Page 74 of Mountain Defender

I never thought I wanted that life before. First, back before I lost my foot, I thought commitment only led to bitterness and disappointment. I was happier staying single.

And then after, I eliminated it as a possibility. I was certain that even if I changed my mind, if I decided what my friends were findingwassomething I wanted, no woman would ever want to be with me.

Then I met Rory, and everything changed.Ichanged.

Am I going to ask Rory to marry me? Not yet. Logic tells me there’s no rush. That it’s better to wait, to get to know each other better, to see where our relationship leads once things get back to normal.

But my heart tells me she’s the one. And that’s why my mind keeps wandering to a future with Rory. Moving in together. Helping her with the shelter. Meeting each other’s friends and family. Proposing. Taking her as my wife. Spending years, decades, a lifetime by her side, protecting her and making sure she always knows just how beautiful she is.

I can see her years from now, sitting beside me in the gazebo I built for her on our own property, her face lit by moonlight as she looks up at the stars. Streaks of silver run through her hair, and her features are lined with fine wrinkles, but she’s just as stunning as the first day I met her. She turns to me with that soft smile, the one that always makes my heart roll over, and I tell her how much I love her. How much?—

A wet nose nudges my hand, jarring me back to the present.

Back to the three expectant doggie faces staring up at me.

Dewey pushes his nose into my hand again. Elmore sits back on his haunches and raises his paw. Toby chooses a different tactic, flopping onto the floor with a doleful sigh and splaying his legs up to the ceiling.

I chuckle as I tell them, “Sorry, guys. Rory’s not home yet. You’ll have to wait a little longer.”

Now that I’m thinking about it, how much longerwillshe be?

I glance at my phone, sitting face up on the kitchen counter, and do a quick mental calculation. She left the house at eight-twenty-five, just before my conference call at eight-thirty, and it’s nine-thirty now. That should be plenty of time to get into town, stop at Breakfast Bliss, and make the ten-minute trip back home again.

So why isn’t she home?

I can feel my thoughts sneaking into places I’d rather they didn’t. Rory in trouble. Rory hurt. Scared. Upset after someone in town was cruel to her. What if making the trip on her own was too much and she had a panic attack? What if she’s somewhere between Bliss and here, crying in her car, wishing I was there to comfort her?

That damn band around my chest tightens. Squeezes the air from my lungs. The back of my neck prickles with cold sweat. My hands go clammy.

No. She’s fine. Rory is more than capable of driving into Bliss and back. She probably stopped to talk to someone. Or she made a quick detour to the pet shop. Breakfast Bliss could have been extra busy. There are a dozen reasons why she’s not home yet, all of them perfectly reasonable.

Still. I’m not going to feel okay until she gets home.

I pick up my phone, debating whether to call her. It would make me feel better hearing her voice, but I don’t want to bethatguy. Yes, I know I tend to be overprotective—okay, Iam—but I’mreally trying not to let it get out of control. I don’t want Rory to feel smothered.

Maybe I could just text her? Ask her to pick up something else in town?

My finger hovers over the screen as I try to make up my mind. Text or wait?

Then the screen flashes red.

An alarm blares, loud and insistent.

It’s so sudden, so unexpected, I nearly drop the phone.

As I scrabble to hang onto the slick plastic case, my heart rockets to triple speed.

Frantic questions ricochet in my head.What’s wrong? What happened? Who’s in trouble?

I’m already running towards the front door as I jab at the screen, missing the button for the tracking app several times before I finally hit it. As I wait for the tracking app to load, I distractedly notice my finger is trembling.

It might not be Rory, the rational part of my brain says. It could be anything. Alec could be testing the tracking system and forgot to tell us about it. Someone could have accidentally triggered their alert, and I’ll get a call any second with an apologetic explanation.

But my gut disagrees. My gut is shouting,Rory’s in trouble! She’s alone, in trouble, and she needs me.

The damn app finally opens just as I leap off the front porch. I hit the ground unevenly and my leg wants to buckle, but I force myself to stay steady. If it’s Rory, if my worst fears are realized, I need to get to her. I need to?—

A tiny map blinks onto the screen, a red dot flashing madly in the center of it.

---