games.
It had been a long time since he’d seen her—not since the time they’d celebrated Mack’s graduation from the Naval Academy, and Brody’s graduation from college and acceptance into medical school. By that time, Ethan had already had four years in Uncle Sam’s army. He’d completed flight school and had spent some time in the skies above Iraq.
He’d been about twenty-two at the time, which would have made her fourteen. She’d still been a skinny kid with braces and wild hair, but he remembered thinking that Mack’s sister was going to be a pretty girl when she grew up. Brody must have thought the same thing because Ethan remembered hearing him tease Mack about having to beat the boyfriends off with a stick. Mack, who even at twenty-two was more James Bond than any of the actors who’d played the iconic hero on-screen, had calmly responded that he’d vaporize them.
While Ethan hadn’t seen Chandler since then, he had heard about her. Knew that she’d been the valedictorian of her high school class, knew that she had gone to college in Chicago on a full scholarship and knew that she’d gotten her heart broken by some jerk a couple years ago. She lived in Denver. Worked for some company that was a military contractor.
“I’m Ethan Moore.” He heard her swift intake of breath and wished there was enough light that he could see her eyes. His mother had cleaned the McCann house, the Donovan house and at least twenty others. That’s how he’d met Mack. That’s how he’d come to spend his summers in Crow Hollow.
“Good old Walnut Street,” she said. “I guess that’s where we both learned to climb trees.”
It was nice of her not to mention that his mom had been hired help. “I think we need to get out of this tree.”
* * *
SHE FELT HIM SHIFT, just enough to look past her. She didn’t know how he could see much, unless his night vision was considerably better than hers.
She wished she could have seen more of his face. Ethan Moore. He’d been one of her brother’s best friends. And Mack still talked about him, spoke as though they kept in contact even though Mack’s work took him everywhere.
She knew he’d be having a birthday soon. He’d turn thirty-eight next week, just two days after she turned thirty. She could still remember the year that her dad had invited Ethan over and they’d gathered around the kitchen table to share a cake. She’d been nine, he’d been seventeen.
And she’d been secretly in love with him.
And he’d pretty much ignored her every time she was in the room with him.
God, that was so long ago. Now she was here in a tree scared for her life, and her teenage crush had come to save her.
Not exactly the way she’d fantasized she’d end up in his arms.
“Here’s what we’re going to do,” he said. “I’m going to go first. I’ll guide you on where to place your feet. Branch by branch, we’ll work our way down. Okay?”
She nodded. It sounded easy enough. Until she had to grab the first branch. Damn, her shoulder felt as if a ball of fire had landed there. While Ethan’s body had shielded her from the brunt of the fall, her shoulder had connected with something. She gritted her teeth, determined not to complain.
He wrapped his strong hand around her right calf and she could feel his heat through her jeans. He gently tugged, guiding her to the next branch. It was slow going and by the time they reached the ground, she was clammy and terribly afraid that she might vomit after all.
There was a midsize dog with dark fur at the bottom, and it circled her.
“Don’t worry about Molly,” Ethan said. “She found you.”
“Thank you,” she said to the mutt, reaching out her good arm. The dog’s fur was thick and warm and it made her realize how cold she was in her shirt, jeans and lightweight denim jacket.
Molly evidently got excited with the attention and jumped up. Both paws hit Chandler squarely on her bad shoulder with enough force to send pain skyrocketing through her arm. “No,” she cried weakly.
“Molly.” Ethan’s voice cut through the quiet night.
Chandler managed to turn the other direction before she bent at the waist and vomited.
When she was done, she realized that Ethan was standing right next to her, his hand on her back. She straightened and wiped the back of her hand across her mouth. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I hurt my shoulder and Molly caught it just right.”
He didn’t say anything for a minute. When he did, his voice was calm. “Okay. We need to get you inside as quickly as we can.”
She could hear the sound of a zipper. Then felt something warm around her shoulders.
“I can’t take your coat,” she said. “I have one.”
“You have a jacket,” he said. “It doesn’t even look as if it’s lined. Now put your good arm through,” he instructed. “Keep your other arm tucked at your side.”
She did as he told her and in the dark, with just a little moonlight to guide their actions, he gently bundled her up. She felt warm and safe, and the coat had a comforting smell of musk and man.
“I feel bad about taking your coat,” she said. It was cold and all Ethan had on was a long-sleeved shirt.
“It’s fine,” he said, dismissing her concerns. “Does Mack know you’re here?”
“No. I didn’t want to bother him. I got a text from him a couple weeks ago that he was going out of the country for the next few months. Working.” Saving the world. That’s what Mack did.
“So your dad knows that you’re here?”
She hesitated before deciding to tell the truth. “No, not exactly.”
“You’re not in any trouble, are you?” he asked, perhaps reading into the hesitation.
Chandler knew she was definitely in trouble. Someone had run her off the road. But it was possible that she’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time. She certainly couldn’t go around making crazy accusations against her stepmother. Not until she had more proof.
“You mean other than my car being in a tree?” she asked, forcing a light note into her voice.
“Yeah,” he said.
“Not that I know of.”
“Okay, good. I guess what I really want to know,” he said, “is how the hell your car ended up in the tree.”
She wanted to spew out the whole terrible story. But there was no way. If she told him that she’d been purposefully run off the road and that someone had circled back to verify that she was dead, any reasonable person would expect that she’d be clamoring to get the police involved. She wasn’t ready to do that. Certainly wasn’t ready to say “someone tried to kill me.”
She wasn’t ready to face that herself. Much less tell Ethan.
“I must have been going
