anymore. Suddenly she felt intensely isolated here on this mountain, removed from the simple charm of Firefly Glen, exiled from those solid, cozy homes with soft gray plumes of smoke rising from their red-brick chimneys.
Alone. She fought back stupid tears and uncomfortable nausea with equal determination.
Itâs hormones. Just hormones, she reminded herself bracingly. Everyone knew that pregnant women were irrationally emotional. She had to stop giving in to it, stop this maudlin self-pity. She was alone on themountaintop only because she had stopped to appreciate the view.
But the nauseaâ¦
That was very real.
She stumbled out of the car and lurched over toward the trees, her boots crunching on snow. In spite of the freezing air, sweat beaded on her forehead and upper lip. She leaned against the smooth white bark of a birch, closed her eyes and concentrated on taking deep breaths.
To her dismay, she heard another car approaching. She held her breath, hoping it would go on by, but it didnât. It paused, slowed, and then, tires rolling over the snow, eased onto the overlook.
It was a rather large black SUV that dwarfed her small rental car. Firefly Glen Sheriffâs Department, the gold lettering across the side panel announced. Two people were in it, a male driver, and a female passenger next to him.
The driver had rolled down his window and leaned his head out.
âEverything okay here?â
âYes, Iâm fine,â Sarah called, glad to discover that it was almost true. The wave of nausea was passing. It would return, she knew, but for now the relief was blissful. She smiled at the man, noticing the gleaming gold star on his black leather jacket.
The sheriff himself. She tried to remember any stories her uncle might have told about this man, but came up blank. She moved closer to the Jeep, to demonstrate that she was safe and unharmedâ¦and harmless. âIâm really fine. I was just enjoying the view.â
He smiled back. Even from this distance, she could tell it was a dynamite smile, white and wide and charmingly cocked toward one side. For just a flash of an instant, she forgot she was a recently ditched, slightly desperate, pregnant schoolteacher. For one lovely second her stomach did a very different, very pleasant little flip, the kind it used to do when she was a teenager.
âItâs nice, isnât it?â He glanced toward the Glen below them, then returned his smile to her. âWe look even better up close,â he said, apparently completely unaware of any double entendre. âSo. Are you headed our way?â
She nodded, knowing that underneath the friendliness he was appraising her, as any good sheriff would, deciding whether she was a problem that needed controlling. âIn a few minutes.â
âIf youâd like, we can follow you.â He waved a hand toward the winding mountain road. âMake sure youâre okay.â
But she didnât want to do that. Her stomach was settled for now, but what if it started acting up again once she was back in motion? She couldnât imagine herself screeching to a halt, tumbling out of her car and getting sick on the snowbanked side of the roadâall right in front of the horrified eyes of this man.
It had nothing to do with how good-looking he was, she assured herself. In her condition, she was hardly in the market for any man. It was justâwell, it justwasnât the first impression she wanted to make on the residents of this town.
âIâll be fine,â she assured him. âReally. I donât want to hold you up.â
âIâd hate for you to get lost,â he began, but suddenly the woman next to him broke in.
âFor heavenâs sake, Parker, maybe she doesnât want a sheriffâs escort. Itâs one road, less than a mile. A straight shot. No forks, no detours, no nothing. Even a woman can handle that.â
Sarah looked curiously toward the
Nikita Storm, Bessie Hucow, Mystique Vixen