Barrett took Quinn to where Sutton and two helpers worked on building a water tank with a filtration system. The idea was to keep the tank filled with rainwater, but Sutton had dredged some up from the stream to get it started. At an elevation slightly above the cabin under construction, water would flow down through pipes buried in the ground. Barrett had been at the dredge when Quinn radioed him about the bear.

“Well,” Sutton said after checking her over. “If she was in shock, I don’t think she is now. I think she just wanted a keepsake of her first encounter with a grizzly.”

“That was a grizzly?”

Hearing the awe in Quinn’s voice, Barrett chuckled. “Yeah, probably one of the biggest in the state.”

“Ursos arctos horribilis,” Sutton chimed in. “Did you get to hear him roar?”

Quinn nodded, her face going slack for a second. Recovering, she offered a little smirk. “Not as scary as a mountain lion, though.”

A shiver ran across Sutton’s broad shoulders.

“Agreed,” he nodded.

Looking at the tank, Quinn plucked a wrench from Barrett’s previously empty tool belt, most of the pieces lost in his mad dash to the meadow retrieved on the walk back thanks to Quinn’s sharp gaze.

“Do I get to help now?”

“Definitely,” Sutton quickly answered. “I need a set of smaller hands for the filtration system. I keep losing my nuts.”

Quinn looked at Sutton, then Barrett, before busting into laughter.

“Right,” Sutton rolled his eyes. “Hah, hah and all that.”

“Sorry,” she said, a big grin detracting from the apology.

“Come on,” Sutton grumbled before winking at her. “I hope you’re not afraid of heights.”

Barrett watched as Quinn and his brother ascended the ladder. Reaching the tank’s platform, they followed its curve and disappeared from view. Barrett didn’t track their path from below. Sinking to the ground, he pulled his legs close to his chest, wrapped his arms around his knees and dropped his head.

Taking deep breaths, he finally allowed himself to process the fear that had first gripped him with Quinn’s radio call. In his time as a smokejumper, he had made a lot of desperate sprints. But he had never run so hard for so long as when he heard the terror in her voice. Even now, his heart jackhammered in his chest as her words repeated in his head.

Slowly, a new tension crept into his chest. Just like Barrett needed time to process what had happened, Quinn would, too. She seemed fine at the moment, but sometime later today, he knew reality would slam back into her. She would start to wonder what might have happened if Barrett hadn’t shown up or if the bear hadn’t been distressed enough by the paints that it returned to the lake to cleanse itself. She would look at that big blue paw print on the fabric and imagine it swatting at her.

What then?

Willow Gap was small, but it had its share of people moving in then quickly moving on. The winters weren’t for everyone, neither were the dangers to be found in the surrounding wilderness.

“Hey, Lazy Bones.”

Lifting his head, Barrett saw Quinn’s beautiful smile raining down on him.

“Sutton says there’s a gate spigot or something down there.”

Barrett nodded.

“He wants it opened. Does that make sense?”

Grinning, he nodded again and got to his feet.

“Word of advice,” he called up. “When you get back to Sutton, don’t call anything a thingamabob.”

“Doohickey?” she inquired, the crinkle around her eyes visible from where Barrett stood fifteen feet lower.

“Also prohibited.”

“Just go turn the thingamajig,” she ordered before offering a smart salute and disappearing once more around the tank’s curve.

“Damn,” he whispered, following the pipe until he came to the spigot. “I really am in love with that woman.”

* * *

Quinn stared at the two cots set up in front of the wood stove like they were snakes Barrett had tossed into the cabin.

“It was awfully nice of Sutton to fetch these,” she said, her tone changing the pitch on “awfully” to express her real opinion.

“Wasn’t it?” Barrett replied as he fed a log into the stove. “Between the stove keeping us warm and my not smooshing you into the tail of the trailer, you should finally get a good night’s sleep.”

Quinn nodded, her mouth a glum line trying to pass as a smile.

“It is amazing how much got done today,” she said, looking up at the roof covering her head then around at the enclosing walls.

There was still a lot of work to be done. Jester had lived without electricity. Dotty had ordered enough solar panels and batteries that, once everything arrived, Quinn would be able to have most modern conveniences in her new home. Wires and plumbing still had to be installed, insulation and drywall would go up after that, plus a real floor had to be installed over the sub-flooring that the cots and stove rested upon.

But the overall shell was complete and provided better cover than the little trailer. It also provided Barrett the physical distance from Quinn he needed after the day’s scare with the grizzly.

It wasn’t a good night to be snuggled up against the woman he was head over heels in love with—not when he couldn’t touch her the way he wanted.

“I’m going to have to get really good with a hammer and saw to put the slightest dent in paying everyone back for all their help—especially Dotty…and you.”

Her voice dropped at the end, Barrett’s gut clenching at the way she seemed to be yielding to him from where she sat on the cot.

Ignoring the invitation, he walked over to his cot and unrolled the sleeping bag.

“I’ll fetch the blankets from the trailer,” he said as Quinn pulled her boots off. “Shouldn’t need them, but I don’t want you getting cold.”

Her head bobbed, the flick of her gaze communicating she preferred a different type of warmth. Or maybe the gaze communicated nothing and it was his own wishful thinking, his own desires reflected back at him.

Shutting the cabin door behind him, Barrett huffed. He wanted the woman. He was pretty sure she wanted him, too. The math should be simple. So why did he keep holding back?

Bundling up the blankets, he left the trailer and returned to the house no closer to an answer than when he’d left. Quinn was already in the sleeping bag, her boots, jeans and jacket under the cot. Barrett tossed the thinner blanket onto his sleeping bag then folded the other blanket in half and draped it over Quinn’s body. Getting down on one knee, he stroked his thumb from the bridge of her nose up her forehead before placing a short, soft kiss against her lips.

“I’m really glad the bear didn’t eat you,” he teased before adding a second, slightly longer kiss.

“Thank you for coming to rescue me.”

“Always,” Barrett answered, turning off the camping lantern.

He sat down on his cot, stripped off his jacket then his boots and jeans. Once inside the sleeping bag, he turned to face Quinn in the darkness. He could hear her breathing, knew by the cadence that she was still wide-awake.

He said nothing. Neither did she.

Eventually, they both fell asleep, their rest undisturbed until Barrett’s radio went off a few minutes before four in the morning.

A hundred miles to the north, a previously contained fire had jumped the river boxing it in. With a strong wind blowing from the east, the blaze marched inexorably toward a small town, toppling trees on the only road out.

Dressed before Quinn could rub the sleep from her eyes, Barrett wrapped his arms around her and squeezed.

“I’m sorry, baby. I have to go.”