I blink back the tears that threaten to fall, hating that I don’t stick up for myself better. I’d love to sit around and throw a pity party, but I hate driving at night. And more importantly, there is a little baby who has been abandoned.
Thinking about this baby who needs me manages to snap me out of my misery. Focus, Katie. I grab the gear I need, then head out to my car. Buckling the car seat into the back of my sedan, I feel drops of rain on my back. Looking up at the darkening sky, I make the decision to pass on driving through a burger joint until after the pick-up and drop-off. I hate driving in the rain too.
I enter the address into my GPS and then begin making phone calls via Bluetooth. Usually a baby is an easy enough placement, but tonight I can’t seem to get through to any of my regular foster parents. There is one more emergency home I can call, but before I can reach them, my reception fails me.
I turn up the music on the radio and try to sing away my frustration over the past week. Sometimes I just wish I could run away, to the middle of nowhere, and clear my head. When I get back to the office, I will go through the appropriate steps and request that vacation time. Maybe I can find a cheap rental out here in the woods of Fox Hollow, spend a few days in the wilderness and remember who I am. Who I want to be.
As I drive into the forest, the thick cedar trees on either side of me, the rain starting to fall and the sun now set, I realize I don’t need a few days to figure any of that out. I already know. I want a husband, a child. I want the family I never had growing up. But I’m never going to find that life I long for if I’m working such crazy hours. I need more balance.
My GPS tells me I’m almost there. I turn on my blinker even though I haven’t seen another car for ten miles, and turn right onto a gravel driveway. It’s long and winding and I put on my high beams as I make my way to the cabin in the distance. I have no idea what to expect out here, so deep in the woods, and I momentarily wonder if I should have found a colleague to make this transport with me. Who knows what kind of person lives out here? Some wild mountain man, maybe.
Then I remember that Lorraine said a forest ranger made the call, and I calm myself down. Whoever lives here has had a background check and no criminal record. I don’t need to work myself up for no reason. I just need to park my car, get in this cabin, and do some paperwork. Then I will be on my way. Maybe when I get home, I can go onto one of those online dating apps… meet someone that way?
Groaning, I turn off the ignition and reach behind me for the diaper bag. I have no idea how long this baby was left alone, or what it might need. Thankfully I have a little of everything with me. After I step out of the car, I run to the cabin door. The rain is heavy, pelting down on me, and the wind beats around me in wild gusts.
Drenched, I reach for the door, but before my knuckles even rap against the rustic hardwood, it’s pulled open.
Standing before me is the most ruggedly handsome mountain man I’ve ever seen. He has a thick beard, dark brown eyes that match the trunk of a cedar tree. He’s tall, broad shouldered, in a flannel shirt that is rolled up to the elbows, revealing forearms covered in tattoos.
And though I’m distracted by his core-tightening muscles, it’s the fact that he’s bleeding that has me covering my mouth — scared. There’s a deep gash across his forehead and he’s holding a cloth against it as if trying to stop the blood. It’s not really working.
And then I hear the cry of a baby. A wail, really.
What exactly is going on in here?
Kutter
I’m staring. Which I know is rude. But I can’t exactly help it. This woman at my doorstep is ridiculously sexy. The kind of sexy I’ve been dreaming about for a long ass time.
Her eyes are deep blue like the river that runs through Fox Hollow. Her figure curvy and petite, like a goddamn forest nymph.
“Oh god, what’s happened here?” she asks, pushing me aside. The fear in her voice is a relief, to be honest. It means she cares. And right now, that is what this poor baby needs.