Page 117 of Billionaire Lumberjack's Bargain

Where did he go?

I glance up the stairs and pause to listen for him running around in his room or even using the bathroom, but the only sounds in the house are Dalton and Pops debating something and water filling the sink for the dishes.

With worry starting to take root in my chest, I return to the kitchen. “Davey didn’t come back in here, did he?”

It wouldn’t have been impossible for him to have snuck around the couch, going one way, while I came into the room from the other, and hidden from me.

My gaze drifts to the back door that leads to the porch where Pops likes to sit with his coffee, and I move toward it and peek outside. Snow already blankets everything, including Pops’ favorite Adirondack chair, and the wind kicks up a cloud of it as I turn back toward the sink.

“No…” Dalton comes to my side. “What’s wrong?”

“He’s not in the living room, and I didn’t hear him upstairs.”

Dalton immediately rushes from the room, bolting for the stairs. “I’ll check the bedrooms and bathroom.”

Pops dries his hands on a kitchen towel, and I follow him back into the living room, where most of Davey’s gifts still sit strewn in front of the hearth.

Most but not all.

“His new truck is gone, too.”

Pops’ gaze drops to follow mine, and Dalton’s heavy footsteps coming down the stairs only increase the panic starting to fill me.

Dalton reaches me and grasps my elbow, the concern furrowing his brow. “He isn’t up there…”

“Oh, God…”

Pops makes it to the front door before I can even pull out of Dalton’s hold, and we quickly follow him.

An icy blast sends snow across the floor, and Dalton tugs on his boots and places mine on the floor for me to do the same.

The obvious question finally makes its way up my throat as Dalton rises to his full height. “Do you think he went outthere?”

In this storm?

Not only is it freezing, but we’re expecting to get several inches before midnight, maybe more than that before daybreak tomorrow.

There isn’t any reason for him to step foot outside this cabin—especially in weather like this. It may only be the first week of October, but it already feels like the dead of winter.

But the frigid chill isn’t what catches my attention.

It’s the smell permeating the air.

Smoke.

And it isn’t from the hearty fire roaring only a few feet away from us.

Pops scans out the front door as he pulls on his own boots, and his eyes widen. “Shit.”

Dalton shoves past him in nothing more than jeans and a Henley, his vigilant gaze cutting over the porch and then to where Pops looks. I follow him out, not caring that I’m only wearing thin leggings and a sweater.

Smoke billows from the barn, thick flames licking across the roofline. “Oh, God…”

I tear my eyes from the inferno and search the accumulating snow for any sign that Davey was out here, but it’s coming down so fast that it’s nearly impossible to see anything through the near whiteout.

“Davey!”

The howling wind quickly swallows my cry, and Pops and Dalton rush down off the porch, calling out for him the same way.

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