My eyes flutter open and it takes a couple of seconds of staring at the wood ceiling to remember where I am. I’ve heard about people waking up and being confused about where they are. Not just because they spent the night before drinking or going home with some one-night stand, but because they travel so much. Jet-setters and adventurers who aren’t sure what country they’re waking up in, let alone what bed.

That’s never been my life. I’ve always started each predictable day in my predictable bed and lived my routine life until the sun predictably sets again. I’ve never woken up confused about where I was. Definitely not from traveling too much. Not even from drinking too much.

This is a first.

I pat the empty bed beside me. He’s gone. I sit up and tilt my head to the side as I try to listen for him. Did he leave? I’m surprised by how disappointed I am by the thought.

My mind flickers to last night. The tender way he looked after me. Then, how like a man of his word, he didn’t try anything when I finally decided to lie down next to him rather than shivering on the floor. At one point, I did wake up to find him curled up to me with his arm draped over me, but it was innocent. If I’m being honest, I liked how it felt to lie in his strong arms. I felt safe. Ironic since he’s on the run for killing a man.

I twist on the bed and let my legs dangle over the side. Carefully I put my feet on the ground and a shot of pain radiates through my ankle, reminding me to keep off of it. I place my weight on my good foot and hobble to the entrance of his little cabin, expecting to see him just outside.

When I look out the window, I don’t see him, but I’m am overcome by an absolutely breathtaking view. Last night I could see the mountains and river below the scraggly cliff his cabin is perched beside. I’m greeted by the chirping of enthusiastic birds in the distance. But, besides them and the occasional rustling of wind in the trees, the silence is so peaceful.

“Hello?” I call out, instantly cringing and hoping that Cecil isn’t within earshot of this camp. When I last saw him, he was knocked out on the forest floor looking like the perfect entree for a hungry bear. After the shit he pulled last night, I hope a bear did find him. Hopefully it just mauled his dick off. That’s what he would get for trying to use it like a weapon.

A shiver runs over me as I rub my hands over my arms. Cole was right about the temperature here. Back in Texas, the start of June is already sweltering. Here, however, it’s gorgeous and sunny in the day and then still frigid after the sun sets. I remember reading up on the Yukon about how, by the end of this month, the sun stays up longer and longer until summer solstice when it circles around in the sky for twenty-four hours straight. They call it the land of the midnight sun. Though, I doubt I’ll be here long enough to see it. Then again, with my return plane ticket in the hands of an attempted rapist and any hopes of getting a paycheck dashed, I can’t help but wonder how I’ll leave.

As I sit back down on the edge of the bed Cole has put together, I soak in my surroundings in detail. Last night, I couldn’t make out much in here. It was all shadows and blurs and the pain in my ankle made it hard to think about anything else. In the sunlight, however, I can see the sparse shelter that Cole has called home for months now. I slowly check out the room, impressed that he built all of this alone.

He's definitely well stocked with supplies. My eyes trail over the shelf of stacked canned goods and the hunting gear against the other wall. My gaze drifts across the cabin to the end of the bed. I see a small stack of books. My curiosity is overwhelming. What could he be reading out here?

Shuffling down the edge of the bed, I keep my weight off my foot as I get closer to the pile. As I lean over them, I can see that the top book isn’t a novel, it’s a journal.

I guiltily look up to the door. Should I?

My hand hovers over the moleskin cover and my eyes snap back down to the book. I can’t help but wonder what kind of guy kills a man in cold blood, but then goes out of his way to save a woman he doesn’t know. Cole doesn’t seem like the stereotype of a murderer or psychopath, yet the crime speaks for itself. Is there insight on these written pages? Is there an explanation for the sexy walking contradiction that swooped in last night and carried me away in his arms?

I lean over the end of the bed and my fingers graze the cover. My skin tingles with excitement and nerves. I shouldn’t do this. I pull my hand away, but can’t help it from creeping back to the book, as if moving by its own quest for knowledge. Just for a flicker of a second, I imagine getting back and reporting his whereabouts to Senator Turner myself. A million dollars would change my life forever. And taking it away from a man who thinks it’s okay to force himself on a young woman in order to bring another man who executed a college boy, seems like a good way to earn it.

My fingertips touch the soft book cover and I crack it open, I breathe in deep as I see a picture of a young, gorgeous blonde in a wallet sized photo smiling up at me.

Who is she? Is this his girlfriend? His wife?

I study her delicate features, she looks young, but it’s impossible to guess her age. I lift up the photo and get absorbed in a story I create in my head about this girl I’ve never met. How he loves her and had to break her heart when he left for the Canadian border. I put the photo down with a shaky hand and a twisted gut. I think I’m actually feeling… jealous of her.

This is crazy.

I almost close the cover when I see a handwritten letter folded inside the book. I lift the beautifully embossed stationery and hold it against my chest. I want to read it, but it feels so wrong. Like a line that shouldn’t be crossed in the sand. I close my eyes and try to find the inner strength to put it back down. The self-control eludes me and I unfold the page.

Dear Cole,

“Find anything interesting?” My eyes snap up to Cole standing in the doorway with his hands on his hips looking down his nose at me. Literally.

I jump and drop the letter on top of the book and Cole lunges across the room, snatching it up. He lies it back down in his book and slams the cover shut, tucking it under his arm.

“So, let me get this straight,” he glares at me, “I protect you, bring you to safety, fix you up and you repay me by ransacking my personal belongings the second you think the coast is clear? Does that sum this up?” He clutches the notebook tight in his hand.

I swallow hard, my tongue feels thick and I can’t find my words. Hot tears spring to the corners of my eyes as I look down to the ground. “I’m sorry,” I whisper.

“Everyone is always so sorry! After they get caught,” his voice rumbles making me tremble. “So, let me ask you again,” I can’t face him, but I can feel his eyes burning a trail over my skin, “find anything interesting?”