Page 4 of My Ex-Military Mountain Man

"I'll help you with the procedure," I say, ignoring her implied invitation to familiarity. "Then we can discuss the treatment plan."

If she's offended by my tone, she doesn't show it. Instead, she nods and returns to her medical bag, removing instruments and medications.

For the next hour, we work together treating the eagle. Despite my reluctance, I have to admit Dr. Nicole knows her business. Her hands are sure, her decisions confident. She explains eachstep, not in a condescending way, but matter-of-factly, as if assuming I want to learn. Which, despite myself, I do.

When we finish, the eagle rests in a new, more sophisticated splint, her wound clean and dressed. Nicole steps back, stretching her neck from side to side to release tension.

"She'll sleep for another hour or so," she says. "I've given her antibiotics and pain medication that should last until evening. We'll need to repeat the treatment before nightfall."

We. There it is again, that assumption of partnership. Of connection.

"I appreciate your expertise," I say formally. "If you'll write down the instructions for continued care, I can take it from here."

Nicole blinks, surprised. "Jack, this isn't something I can just hand off. The infection could worsen rapidly. The splint needs professional adjustment as the swelling changes. That's why I cleared my schedule for the next two days."

"You said yourself it's a weeks-long recovery," I counter. "You can't stay here indefinitely."

"No, but I can get her stabilized, train you on the more complex aspects of care, and then arrange for either follow-up visits or transfer to a rehabilitation facility." She crosses her arms, mirroring my stance. "This was all explained when arrangements were made."

I clench my jaw, remembering Harrison's vague mention of a "short stay" that I'd interpreted as a few hours, not days. Apparently, I'd been too focused on the eagle's needs to clarify.

"There's no accommodation for visitors here," I say, a last, weak attempt to regain my solitude.

Nicole raises an eyebrow. "Dr. Harrison mentioned you have guest cabins. I brought supplies expecting to stay." She pauses,then adds more gently, "I understand this is your space, Jack. I'll respect that. But that eagle needs more than basic care right now."

I look at the sleeping bird, her fierce beauty temporarily subdued by medication. Then at the woman whose calm competence I can't deny. The sanctuary exists to heal wildlife that no one else will bother to save. To turn away the help this eagle needs would betray everything I've built here.

"The north cabin is prepared for guests," I relent finally. "You and... Max... can stay there."

The smile that spreads across Nicole's face is unexpectedly warm, like sunlight breaking through cloud cover. It does something strange to the perpetual knot in my chest.

"Thank you," she says. "We'll try to be unobtrusive."

Somehow, I doubt that will be possible. There's nothing unobtrusive about her. She takes up space not just physically but energetically. Her presence ripples through the isolation I've built over the years.

"I need to check on the other animals," I say abruptly. "Make yourself at home in the cabin. There's a kitchen with basics. We'll reconvene for the eagle's evening treatment."

I don't wait for her response before striding out of the room, desperate for fresh air and distance. Outside, the familiar sounds and scents of the sanctuary settle around me like a shield. This is my domain, ordered exactly as I need it to be.

For forty-eight hours, I remind myself. Just forty-eight hours of disruption, and then things can return to normal. The woman and her dog will leave, taking their unsettling energy with them.

As I walk toward the deer enclosure, I'm uncomfortably aware of my right arm, the way the scars pull against the fabric of myshirt. The way her eyes had lingered on that glimpse of damaged skin.

Forty-eight hours. I've endured far worse for far longer.

But as I glance back toward the lodge, seeing her silhouette through the window as she tends to the eagle, I'm seized by the irrational certainty that Nicole isn't someone who passes through a life without leaving a mark.

And I already have quite enough marks to last a lifetime.

Chapter 3 - Nicole

I watch through the window as Jack strides across the sanctuary grounds, his back rigid, shoulders squared against some invisible weight. Even in retreat, there's a precision to his movements, something that speaks of training and discipline. Nothing wasted, nothing revealed.

A soft whine from Max draws my attention back to the treatment room. He's still in his designated corner, but his expressive eyes ask permission to move.

"Okay, buddy. All clear," I tell him, and he immediately trots over to investigate the now-quiet enclosure where the sedated eagle rests.

"What do you think, Max?" I crouch beside him, slipping into the one-sided conversations that fill my days. "Our host isn't exactly rolling out the welcome wagon, is he?"

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