Page 18 of The Lost Book of First Loves

Carson had firmly believed every writer needed another creative hobby he could turn to when his brain needed a rest.

After he pulled up to the cabin, Ali and June Connelly climbed out of the truck. June, he noted, looked at the structure with an expression of reverent awe.

“Oh,” she breathed. “It’s lovely.”

He had to agree. Carson had chosen one of the prettiest spots on the ranch for the place he called alternately his writing cave or his writing palace, depending on his mood and how his current book was going.

Surrounded by tall trees and with spectacular views of the mountains, the cabin had been designed to fit its surroundings. The creek ran behind it, covered with a wooden bridge, and the cabin featured both a stone patio and a wraparound porch, complete with porch swing, where Carson would sometimes sit for hours, deep in thought.

By the time Beck had pulled June’s luggage out of the back of his pickup, Ali had let them both inside.

If one didn’t know this was a writing retreat, it would have been easy to think it was an ordinary guest cabin. Carson wrote by hand in a notebook and he liked to move around while he worked. While one of the three bedrooms contained that desk he had built, Beck had rarely seen him sitting there.

Instead, he would be out on that porch swing or at the scarred pine kitchen table or in the big comfortable easy chair next to the fire during colder months.

“I can’t believe this is really where your dad worked.”

Ali gave a small laugh that sounded more hollow and sad than amused. “It really is. He loved this place.”

“Are you sure it’s okay that I stay here? I feel like I’m intruding.”

“Dad would want you to use it. Don’t you agree, Beck?”

“Sure,” he answered slowly. What else could he say?

“It’s so kind of you to let me use it. I can’t imagine a better place to recuperate.”

“It’s definitely a peaceful place,” Ali said. “You don’t have to do anything but listen to the birds or the water in the creek or the wind in the treetops. Dad’s whole library is here, too. Feel free to read what you like.”

One entire wall in the living room and two in the office were covered with books. Carson had an extensive and eclectic collection. He picked up books wherever he went. Nonfiction, fiction. If any book caught his interest, he would buy it. As a result, his library contained everything from esoteric research tomes to romance novels to old Westerns to the latest thrillers.

“Also,” Ali went on, “we’re only a five-minute walk through the woods to the house. Faster than that if you use the bike that’s parked on the side over there.”

Could the woman ride a bike? She had a cardiac arrest a week earlier. Also, was it really a good idea to leave her down here by herself, with her medical condition? What if she needed help?

It wasn’t his place to lecture, Beck reminded himself. Especially when she clearly didn’t like him.

“I can take those into the bedroom for you,” he offered, gesturing to the luggage.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice terse, as if she had forgotten he was there until he spoke.

He carried her bags to the room where Carson would sometimes sleep when he was deep in a project. It was an undeniably masculine room, with a dark blue log cabin quilt and another big, sturdy armchair beside a gas fireplace.

He set the suitcases beside the craftsman-style dresser before returning to the living area.

“Grandma and Jo stocked the refrigerator with low-sodium meals and made sure you have fresh sheets and towels,” Ali was saying.

“Thank you. That’s very kind of them.” She smiled, though he could see exhaustion filter through. She looked tired and fragile. What was it about Juniper Connelly that brought out all his protective instincts?

His urge to watch out for her annoyed him, especially given her obvious dislike of him.

She didn’t need or want him to take care of her. He needed to stay away and let her heal in peace.

“Looks like it’s starting to rain. I can give you a ride back to the house so you don’t have to get soaked running through the woods,” he offered to Ali.

She looked briefly torn then nodded. “Thanks. That would be good. Give me a minute.”

He nodded and walked down the steps to his truck to wait for her.

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