One earth-shattering, turn-her-world-upside-down, make-her-forget-her-own-name kiss. And then?
Nothing.
Meg locked the clinic door, alarm beeping its confirmation as she pocketed the keys. Five days since they’d walked out of the canyon. Three days of radio silence from Noah—well, except for the occasional grunt when their paths crossed at the lodge. He’d been pulling double shifts to cover for Liam, but this felt bigger than simple scheduling.
Tomorrow Liam would return from the hospital. Back to normal. Back to pretending that kiss never happened.
Right.There was nothing normal about the way her pulse still jumped every time she remembered the taste of his kiss. The way his hands had tangled in her hair. The desperate hunger in his touch that had made her forget everything except?—
I couldn’t save my wife.
The words slammed into her chest all over again. She’d been so wrapped up in her own panic that night, the meaning hadn’t fully registered. But now?
Now she remembered his haunted eyes that first summer. The pale indent on his ring finger where gold had once circled. The way he’d flinched whenever couples walked past holding hands.
She’d assumed divorce. Messy breakup. The usual casualties of modern love.
But a widower?
Her heart cracked clean through.
She made her way to the lodge’s west patio, lured by the moonlight, the dark, expansive yawn of the canyon. She stood at the half wall overlooking the drop. The gibbous moon cast a silver glow over the layers of earth.
At least some things stayed constant when the world tilted sideways.
“This is one of my favorite places to think.”
Meg spun—too fast, too close to the edge—and strong hands captured her arm, yanked her back from the precipice.
“Don’t move like that near the drop.” Noah’s voice came out strangled, his grip almost painful against her elbow.
Heat shot up her arm where his fingers pressed into her skin. Her body had developed some kind of Noah radar—every nerve ending crackling to life whenever he came within ten feet.Ridiculous.
“I wouldn’t have moved so fast if you hadn’t snuck up on me.” She turned back toward the canyon, trying to ignore the way her pulse hammered against her throat.
“Sorry.” His hand dropped away, but he didn’t retreat. Didn’t sit back down wherever he’d been hiding in the shadows.
“It’s peaceful out here.” When she thought she was alone, anyway.
Noah’s hands found his pockets, weight shifting to one foot. “Something about the canyon at night—all shadows and silver instead of those blazing colors. Calms something inside me.” He pointed into the darkness. “Wait long enough and you’ll spot an owl hunting dinner.”
“An owl?” Meg squinted into the void, seeing nothing but rock and moonlight.
“Right there.” He pointed again, arm extending past her shoulder.
She shook her head, still blind to whatever he was tracking.
He stepped closer, chest almost touching her back as his arm stretched toward the distance. “See that outcropping? Just to the left?—”
All rational thought evaporated. His warmth enveloped her, solid and real and intoxicating. The scent of pine soap and something distinctly Noah filled her lungs. Her brain short-circuited, replaying that kiss on endless loop—the desperate way he’d held her, as if she was his lifeline in a storm.
She turned her head slightly, found him watching her instead of the phantom owl. His gaze traced her features, lingered on her mouth. His breath whispered across her lips as he leaned closer, slow as honey.
Stupid.This was so stupid. He’d run last time—literallywalked awaywithout explanation. But he was here now, and heaven help her, she wanted Noah Wilde more than she’d ever wanted anything. Would love him the way no one had since?—
Mary.
The name hung between them like a ghost.