style="font-size:15px;"> “Is in a ditch up the road.” He experimented with another smile. “Lucky for you.”
She returned the smile, then her face went serious. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Right place at the right time. What are you doing on the mountain, anyway?”
She looked uncertain. “Vacationing.”
Luke nodded, though suspicion hit him like a fist. “Take the gun and level it at the doorway.”
Dana pulled the baby more tightly against her chest. “I can’t.”
Luke looked down at the infant’s face. He’d fallen asleep, oblivious to the danger around him, the bottle nipple now slack against his lips.
“Yes, you can.” Luke nodded toward the baby. “Besides, I left my four-legged partner out in the cold. I need to check on him, at least.”
Dana crooned softly as she eased the bottle from the baby’s mouth. Her expression was hopeful when she looked up. “A police dog?”
“No, an ornery old Lab. But he’s as big as a pony and barks like he means business. Besides, he likes kids and beautiful women.”
Where had that comment come from? He’d intended to lighten the mood, to see her relax, but he’d caught himself off guard instead. The wary expression on Dana’s face told him he wasn’t the only one who wished he’d kept the comment to himself.
Luke retrieved the coiled hose from the supply room floor and molded it into an oval shape. “Here. Use my jacket and lay him inside.”
Dana pulled the supple leather jacket from her knees and folded the baby inside. He barely stirred when she laid him inside the makeshift cradle, only nuzzled contentedly against the lining of Luke’s jacket.
Dana lifted the gun but looked at it as if it were a snake. “I don’t think I can do this.”
“You have to.” He took her by the upper arm and turned her toward the baby. “Unless you want to freeze to death and leave this little guy alone.”
Anger and determination flashed on her face as she pulled her arm free. “Okay.”
Just the reaction he’d been hoping for. “I’ll leave the flashlight with you. I have a lighter.” Luke stood when she nodded. “Keep the gun focused on the door. I’ll try and alert you when I—”
“Just say my name.” She interrupted. “I’ll know your voice.”
Luke nodded and disappeared through the doorway, leaving Dana alone. What she’d said was true. She could pick that deep, captivating voice out of a crowded room. Maybe it was the tense circumstances, but that voice had the power to soothe her, to irritate her and, if she were honest with herself, make her want to crawl into the shelter of his arms.
Power. The word stuck in her brain as she rested her wrist on her knee and, with a trembling hand, pointed the gun toward the empty door frame. Hadn’t she learned a thing or two in the last year and a half about giving up her power? But this was hardly the same as her marriage to Robert. Luke had just given her the power of his weapon and, with barely a word of instruction, trusted her not to blast him to kingdom come with it.
Time passed. Five minutes. Ten?
“Dana…”
The sound of Luke’s voice made her jump. She hadn’t heard him enter the cabin. “Yes,” she responded, lowering the gun.
“It’s us.”
Us? This time she heard a shuffle, heard the gentle sound of the cabin’s door closing and the unmistakable click-click of canine paws against the wooden floor. Big brown eyes suddenly peered around the doorway, framed by a golden muzzle and inquisitive eyebrows. Dana laid the gun on the floor and fought the overwhelming urge to cry. There was something so entirely welcoming about the presence of the dog. Something so normal that she wanted to fling her arms around his big neck and squeal with delight like a child.
Luke appeared, resting his hand against the dog’s head in an easy gesture. “Sam, this is Dana. Dana, this is Sam.”
“Hi, Sam,” she whispered, her voice betraying the emotion.
When she looked up, she found Luke watching her again. Assessing her. The expression on his face was neutral, but his eyes said something else. He looked at her as if she were a puzzle with half its pieces missing. She thought of the broken mess her once-orderly life had become, and shivered. Maybe he was right.
“Good news.” He stepped inside the supply room and pulled the chain on an overhead fixture. The single lightbulb came to life, its glow barely brighter than the flashlight.
With the light, Dana could see that snow dusted his shoulders, darkening his black shirt as it melted. He’d sacrificed his jacket for the baby’s sake.
He reached around Dana and retrieved the space heater. “I’ll be right back. Sam—” he looked behind him at the dog, then gestured toward Dana “—stay here.”
Sam walked over to Dana and plopped down next to her feet. She eased her fingers into his thick fur and was rewarded with a friendly lick. This time she didn’t ask where Luke was going but trusted that he wouldn’t go far. Trust. The emotion surprised her.
She heard Luke move to a nearby part of the cabin, could make out the sound of something heavy being moved, the soft shuffle of his feet. In a moment he returned, filling the doorway with his silhouette. Dana noticed that he’d changed shirts. He’d put on a white thermal shirt, the sleeves of which were drawn tightly around his arms. He walked into the supply room and knelt down beside her. For a moment she thought he was going to lift her in his arms, but he reached for the flashlight instead.
“Come with me. Bring the baby.” He stood, gently slapping the side of his leg. “Sam.”
She lifted the baby and drew him into her arms. His warm, trusting little body fitted perfectly against her shoulder. How many times had she dreamed of holding a child of her own like this? Dana closed her eyes against the threat of tears.
“Ready?”
The expression on Luke’s face told her that he hadn’t missed the moment of weakness. Dana stood, her legs shakier than she’d expected. It was then she noticed Luke held out his hand. She stared at it. His hand was so large that hers would disappear inside it. Her gaze slid to Luke’s. Why was she afraid to make the simple contact?
A frown marred his forehead. “Dana?”
She stepped forward and slid her hand into his. The contact should have been simple, but it wasn’t. Luke took her hand inside his, his thumb caressing her knuckles for a moment before he abruptly stopped. It was too late. The gesture had already caused her breath to catch in her chest.
“Ready.” She forced the word out, trying to deny the awkwardness that had filled the room.
He turned away, still clutching her hand in his, and slowly drew her from the supply room. Dana followed, steadying the baby against her shoulder with her free hand. Luke kept the beam of light trained on the floor and led her down the short hallway to an adjoining
