Page 14 of The Lost Book of First Loves

“Not really, though there is a couple who runs a business taking tourists into Jackson Hole or dropping them off at various trailheads in the area. But I’ve asked a good friend to pick us up.”

“Oh. That’s nice.”

“Doctor Singh said you should not drive for another week so I’m happy to take you anywhere you want to go. Anybodyat the ranch would do the same. After you can drive again, I’m sure we will be able to find a ranch vehicle for you to use. It’s nice to have the freedom to explore or run into town when you want without having to wait for someone to give you a ride.”

“Thank you.”

She couldn’t quite figure out why Alison Wells was being so kind to her. Inviting someone who was a virtual stranger to recover from surgery in your guesthouse in Wyoming seemed an extreme offer, simply for a good letter of recommendation.

More to the point, why had June agreed to the plan? It was completely unlike her to take off with a woman she had known less than a month to travel to some isolated ranch in Wyoming, simply because June’s mother had adored literary icon Carson Wells.

She had never been so impulsive.

Then again, she had never died and been brought back to life before. Maybe something central inside her had changed, more than the implantable cardioverter device underneath her skin.

As the plane began to descend, June looked out the window at the small town surrounded by huge mountains on all sides. Scattered ranch houses dotted the landscape, patches of color in a sea of green.

The plane landed smoothly and Glen came on the intercom. “Everybody okay back there? Hang tight for a minute while I finish things up here in the cockpit and put down the steps for you.”

The door to the jet opened a few moments later and he reached up to take her hand as she walked down the steps to the tarmac.

June’s immediate impression as she looked around the Bridger Peak airport was one of space and grandeur. On all sides, mountains reached up to the sky.

The air seemed fresh and clean, with a hint of sage and pine.She inhaled deeply, already feeling some of the strain seeping away.

She wanted to stand in this spot all day and simply inhale.

“Hey, Beck!” Alison Wells sounded happier than June had ever heard her. “Thanks so much for coming to pick us up at the last minute.”

“Not a problem,” a deep, laconic voice echoed. “You know I’m always happy to help.”

“Right. You might even say you’re at ourbeckand call,” Alison said with a grin, which made the man groan, though he reached out to hug her with clear affection.

When he released her, the man turned toward her with an open, welcoming expression and June froze.

Beck, the neighbor and friend Alison had greeted fondly, was none other than Beckett Hunter.

She knew this man. Well, she amended, she didn’t reallyknowhim so much as she knewofhim. Beckett Hunter was famous in some circles. Infamous, really.

She couldn’t quite reconcile that the hard-nosed prosecutor she had read about in the papers when she worked in Silicon Valley—and heard about from those with firsthand knowledge—was this man in jeans, boots and a T-shirt that hugged a well-muscled chest.

What was he doinghere, at a tiny airstrip outside a small town in Wyoming? Besides picking them up, obviously.

“Good to have you back,” he said to Alison. “How was the big city?”

“About what I expected. Noisy, busy, crowded. A lot like Salt Lake, though I’m not sure the traffic was as bad.”

“Did you find what you were looking for?”

“In a manner of speaking,” she said in a rather oblique tone that June didn’t understand.

For the first time, he seemed to become aware of her. He stepped away from Alison and gave a welcoming smile.

“Hello. I’m Beckett Hunter. Alison’s neighbor.”

“I know who you are.”

Her voice came out more clipped than she intended, and he frowned slightly, looking off balance at her sudden hostility.

---