Page 19 of Should I Fall
“He’s a protective man,” Winnie adds. “A good man, too. It’s just too bad he doesn’t seem to see that.”
“What do you mean?”
“Ever since that fire, he’s not been the same.”
“What fire?” I ask a little too eager for the answer. But Winnie, bless her heart, doesn’t even flinch. Maybe she’s baiting me. But honestly, I don’t even care. I’m never going to see Dash Sullivan again. He made that pretty clear when he refused to so much as give me a hug once that chopper showed up. There were no goodbye embraces. No passionate kiss meant to hold us both over until we both finally moved on. Just that cold grumpiness he was sporting so well when I first arrived at the lookout tower.
“Six years ago, a fire got really close to Cinnamon Creek. If you drive that way a few miles,” she says, pointing toward the brochure wall, “You’ll see hundreds of acres of charred trees.”
“That’s terrible. Was anyone hurt?”
“Thankfully, no,” Winnie says. “But we did lose a few homes. One of them was Dash’s childhood home. His mom lost everything—all their photos, mementos, and family heirlooms. Dash hasn’t been the same since.” Winnie leans over the counter, looking around before lowering her voice. “I shouldn’t be telling you this. He’d be annoyed at me for sharing, but he blames himself.”
“Why would he blame himself?”
“Because he wasn’t there to help fight the fire.”
“Where was he?”
“That’s his story to tell, I’m afraid.”
“Guess I’ll never know then,” I say, letting out a sigh. Unless I move to Cinnamon Creek and wait out the fire watch season until Dash is back in town. It’s only a couple of weeks from wrapping up. Though the thought tempts me, I quickly squash it down. Dash might be mortified to see his overnight fling walking down the street weeks from now. Stalker much?
“You could try calling him,” Winnie suggests.
“Maybe. But Brutus stepped on my phone.”
“Oh, dear.”
“Yeah.” I release a heavy exhale, contemplating whether I’m going to get out and explore this little town—maybe hunt down my sister—or if it would be better just to crawl into my own bed until our flight leaves tomorrow.
“There is one other way,” Winnie says.
“I’m not really up for hiking nine point six miles. I’m pretty sure Brutus has it out for me, anyway.”
“I can get you a ride,” Winnie says. “Via helicopter.”
“I thought there weren’t any more flights until next week.” At least that’s what Dash told me when I floated the idea of staying one more night as I was getting dressed this morning. It’s the flash of temptation I saw dance in his eyes that makes me feel just a little less crazy contemplating Winnie’s offer now.
“Fred owes me a favor.”
“Fred, as in the same Fred who picked us up from the airport in a shuttle van?”
“Fred has many talents,” Winnie says, a hint of a blush creeping onto her cheeks. “Why don’t you go freshen up, and I’ll arrange for your flight?”
“What if Dash isn’t happy to see me?”
“Then no harm, no foul. Fred will bring you right back.”
Is this crazy? Probably. But the only time I’ve ever been known to do anything practical in my entire life, I ended up hating every minute of it. I squeeze the amethyst in my pocket for some good vibes and grounding energy.
Thisfeelsright.
“Sign me up, Winnie.”
Chapter Ten
Dash
