Page 19 of Rescue in Misty Mountain

And then?—

We kiss.

Not planned. Not slow. Justthere.

Like a match hitting tinder.

His hand cradles my jaw, rough fingers gentle. My palms find his chest, solid and warm and too real. The kiss is hungry, then hesitant. Like we’re both waiting for the other to pull away.

But neither of us does.

Not right away.

When we break apart, we’re both breathing like we just sprinted through the woods.

His forehead rests lightly against mine.

“That probably shouldn’t have happened,” he says, voice ragged.

“Probably not.”

But neither of us moves.

And it sure as hell doesn’t feel like a mistake.

Then—of course—Whiskey lets out a loudyowlstartling both of us back into the moment.

I step away, cheeks flushed. He backs up slowly, scrubbing a hand through his hair.

“You should… feed your cat,” he says, voice rough.

“Yeah. I should.”

We don’t look at each other as I open the bag and toss a treat into the dish.

But I can still feel the imprint of his mouth on mine.

And somehow, I know this is just the beginning.

SIX

GAGE

The fox kit is eating on its own. At last.

I watch from a few feet away as the tiny red-furred creature licks canned food off a shallow dish, then toddles back to its bed, curling into a sleepy ball under the glow of the heat lamp. I make a few notes in the logbook, and rise with a groan that pulls at every sore muscle in my back.

I’ve been on my feet since before dawn—cleaning enclosures, changing bandages, arguing with the feed supplier about delivery schedules, fielding a call about an injured owl behind the general store. A normal day.

So why the hell do I keep checking my phone?

It’s not like she said she’d call or text while she was at work. Again. It’s not like she owes me anything. The last thing asked for was a photo of Whiskey. So I took one of him, curled in the flannel I’d “accidentally” left on the couch.

Which I definitely didn’t leave there on purpose so the cat would have something that smelled like me.

I scrub a hand down my face and tell myself this has nothing to do with her.

Except it does.

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