Page 6 of The Rescuer

She rolled her eyes. “Forget it.” Since they’d been kids, they had decided many an argument with a battle of rock, paper, scissors. Neve had yet to win. “Thank you,” she grumbled in defeat.

“You’re welcome.” He canted his head, his gaze unwavering, his expression revealing nothing. “How are you getting home?”

Not a question he normally posed, but hey, hedidrescue drunk dumbasses as part of his work with search and rescue, so she supposed asking was simply hardwired in him. Not that she was drunk. No, after years of practice, she could hold her liquorwaybeyond one measly shot.

“Don’t worry. I’m walking, like I always do.”

He lifted his chin toward a window and the dark blue backdrop beyond it. “Storm’s on its way. The temperature’s got to be in the teens by now.” A typical November night in the Colorado mountains at ten thousand feet above sea level. “And you haven’t had anything to eat.”

Why was he suddenly concerned? What was his deal? And then it hit her. Reece was an adrenaline junkie, and he was suffering from withdrawals. That had to be it. He was tuned into nights like this one because these were the kinds of nights where he was called into action, and no action was coming his way.

She tugged at the coat beneath her bottom. “Don’t worry. I’ll walk faster and keep my body temperature up so I don’t fall over and freeze to death on the sidewalk.”

His eyes flared wide, and realization slammed her like a hundred-pound Bull Mastiff.

He had discovered an old woman dead on the sidewalk right in front of the Miners Tavern, not fifty feet from where he now stood. Neve had just unwittingly plucked a devastating memory from the vault where he kept his many disturbing images locked away.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean—”

He held up his hand. “It’s all good.” He ducked his head and looked away, but before his eyes left hers and wandered to the woman who wanted more than a drink from him, they went dark. Her heart squeezed. God, what she wouldn’t give to be eight years old and racing him across the ice rink or down the face of a ski slope again. Back then, she hadn’t needed tobe so guarded. Back then, she could have said whatever popped into her brain without worrying that it was the wrong thing. Back then, he hadn’t been so broody, and she hadn’t been so socially klutzy around him.

His forced smile in place, Reece gave his chitchatty customer his undivided attention. Neve took the opportunity to slide her coat back on, send a wave in Hailey’s direction, and march toward the door before Reece could ask any more questions that would throw Neve off her game—assuming shehada game.

She scurried along the icy sidewalk until she reached the edge of the block, where the glow of the streetlights dimmed. Back inside the clinic, she flipped on a light just as Pearl came to greet her, tail wagging and claws click-clacking on the vinyl-covered concrete floor.

“Nice of you to get up.” Neve pulled off her scarf and tiptoed toward the recovery area with Pearl quietly following behind. She breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of the rhythmic rise and fall of Mr. Whiskers’s chest as he slept.

She and Pearl returned to her office, where she pulled out the plastic-encased bridesmaid dress.

“Why did I promise Hailey I’d send her a selfietonight? I’m so not in the mood to trade my warm clothes for this strappy number.”

Pearl sat on her haunches and tilted her head.

Her phone let out a muffled ring, and she fished it out of her coat pocket. The number wasn’t familiar. Maybe it was the injured cat’s owner. Either way, she welcomed being saved by the bell.

“This is Neve Embry.”

“Hey, I was hoping I’d catch you,” came a silky baritone she couldn’t quite place. “It’s Leo Cantrell. From the Silver Summit Resort.” Her brain took in this information, trying to slip it into the right array, but apparently its processing was too sluggish because the silence stretched. He continued. “We met in line at the Peak-to-Peak Marathon this past summer? We chatted about your vet clinic while the search and rescue team dragged their heels getting everything set up.” After a pause, he quickly added, “You don’t remember me, do you?”

An image of coal-black waves brushing broad sculpted shoulders bared by an athletic tank drifted through her mind, followed by twinkling blue eyes and a devastating smile that popped a pair of dimples. Oh, shedefinitely remembered Leo. Who could forget tall, dark, and charming? Not to mention filthy rich.

She let out a nervous giggle that made her voice squeak like a teen’s. “Of course I do!” Wait. Why was he calling her? “Have you lost a male tabby?”

“A male … what?”

“I have an injured tabby cat at my clinic, and I’m trying to locate his owner.” She patted Pearl’s head when the pup nudged her hand.

“Ah. Not me.”

“Is someone sick? Hurt?”

More silence crackled through the line before he broke it once more. “Oh, you mean like a dog or cat. No, I don’t have any pets. I like animals, but I’m gone too much to be a good pet … parent.”

The next logical question was to ask the reason why he was calling, but it seemed rude to simply blurt it out. Fortunately, he answered the question himself.

“I’m calling because I’d like to take you to dinner sometime.”

Her brain short-circuited, and her jaw dropped open before she recovered. “Are you sure you have the right number?”

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