“Are you okay?” she asks as I grunt, my foot slipping on the slick grass.

“Yup, just slippery.” My voice is clipped, my mind focusing on one thing and one thing alone: not making myself look like a complete fool.

Falling down and tumbling head over heels on top of a partially clothed woman is not on my list of things to do today.

Just a few more feet.

“Do you need help, Griff?” Dave asks, popping his head out from the truck.

Ever the consummate hero, I shake my head and take the last few steps, nearly throwing my back out when I slip one more time, but I catch my balance in time to avoid the terrible tumble down.

Sweet Jesus, that was close.

I carry her over to the ambulance and set her down in the back on the ledge, where the EMTs, Jessica and Carly, start tending to the cut on her head, asking her a bunch of questions.

I walk over to the truck, where Dave approaches me from the side. “You know, there were plenty of us who could have helped.”

“I know,” I answer, digging around the back until my hand connects with something soft. Just what I was looking for.

“You should have at least waited for one of us to help you.”

I open up the T-shirt and shake it out, making sure it’s the clean one I keep stashed away for reasons just like this. “She was scared, Dave, and bleeding. She was able to fully hold a conversation with me and wanted out of the car. I took action.”

“She could have a hurt neck or—”

“She doesn’t, okay? Just a bump on the head.”

I’ve turned to walk away when Dave calls out, “When did you become a medic?”

Walking backward, I grin. “Earned my certification this morning.” Dave reads my sarcasm well and mutters something under his breath as he heads down toward the car to help out the rest of the guys while I check on the girl. I let out a deep sigh. Yeah, I should have waited, should have maybe assessed the situation better, but there was something about her that struck me deep in my core, a look that reminded me of Claire, and hell if I didn’t step into action right away.

“You should have seen it, came out of nowhere,” the girl says, waving her arms about, making Jessica and Carly’s ability to assess her for injuries harder than anticipated.

Stepping up, I hold out the T-shirt. “Something to cover up with.”

The girl looks at the shirt and then back up at me, her eyes watering, her lip trembling. Oh Christ.

“That is the . . .” She sucks in a deep breath and calms herself. “That is the nicest thing anyone has ever done. Thank you.”

A shirt is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for her? Where is this girl from?

“We’re going to take you in for some scans just in case.” Carly hops down from the back of the ambulance and heads toward the front while Jessica straps the woman into the gurney.

“Is that really necessary?”

“You drove off the road and got stuck between two trees, and you have a nasty cut on your head. We want to make sure everything is good and you don’t have any swelling in your brain.”

The girl bites her bottom lip and then looks up at me. “I’m really okay.”

“It might be good just to double-check,” I say, helping out Jessica and Carly. “Don’t worry; I’ll make sure your clothes get to you.”

“You would do that?”

“Sure.” It’s not like I have a busy gift shop to get back to or a shift to finish with the fire department. I actually like the distraction. It gives me something other than the mundane schedule of my life to follow. “What’s your name, ma’am?”

I step into the ambulance, gripping the top of the doorframe with my hand as Jessica starts strapping up the woman.

“Ren. Ren Winters. I’m new to town. I’ll be teaching algebra in the fall, and I would really like to know what happened to the suicidal moose that stepped in front of my car. Is he dead?”

I chuckle and take her hand in mine. “I’m Griffin, and I can promise you, the moose is fine. You’re the one we need to worry about. Now listen to these two women; they know what they’re doing.” I give Jessica a high five before hopping out the back. “Get better.”

I help shut the ambulance doors and give them a pat on the back to let Carly know she’s good to go. Hands on my hips, I stare down the red taillights of the vehicle. Ren Winters, algebra teacher. I wonder if she’s the same woman moving in a few houses down from me, the one who rented the Alabaster Haven, a.k.a. the white cottage on Seagull Lane.

I’ll have to ask my brother.

“Rogan, what’s up?”

The Har-Bahr, Port Snow’s local bar, is buzzing more than normal. I sit down next to my brother and raise two fingers to the bartender, Calvin, signaling my usual. Water and ice. I don’t drink much, especially when I told the fire station I could be on call anytime; it’s not like I have anything else to do with my nights.

“Heard about your Hulklike powers stomping up the side of a hill today. Showing off?” Rogan winks at me and takes a sip of what I know is water as well. We’re probably the only two who come to the bar not for the drinks but just to get out of our heads and our houses.

“Word spread already? That was fast.”

Growing up in Port Snow, population eight thousand, had its pluses and minuses. The community is like a close-knit family, and whenever someone is in need, we’re there for them. When they say it takes a community . . . Port Snow is that place. But on the negative side, as kids, my raucous brothers and I never got away with anything.

Accidentally breaking Old Man Wickham’s window while playing baseball.

Toilet papering every house on Whisper Way.

Floating a candy bar in the community pool, pretending it was something else . . . yeah, that was a gross one.

We were caught and turned in to our parents every single time.

It made dating and breaking curfew extremely hard, but we had our ways.

And even though getting in trouble with my parents isn’t a concern anymore, gossip still spreads like wildfire; it’s impossible to do anything without the entire town talking about it, including my brothers.

“Franklin over at the deli said you were huffing and puffing up the hill so much that your shirt ripped open, and you had to grab a new one from the truck. Called you a living legend with pecs for days.”

Franklin has an appetite for gossip and burly fishermen, not to mention a rather impressive imagination. He’s probably the worst gossip in town besides the old hens who hang out with Mrs. Davenport.

Calvin sets a water in front of me and moves on to the next customer. We leave a tip every time, so he doesn’t mind us taking up real estate at his bar.

I take a gulp of water. “I can agree with Franklin on the ‘pecs for days’ comment, but there was no shirt ripping. The woman I helped out of her car actually needed a shirt. She used hers to stop the bleeding on her head, so I gave her a spare.”

Rogan shakes his head. “News spreads around this town like the worst game of telephone ever played.”

Couldn’t agree more, but I won’t voice my opinion on the matter. Rogan is a little more jaded when it comes to Port Snow. He’s always had plans for bigger and better things, so I try to tamp down the negative aspects of the town whenever he’s around. I don’t want to push him further away from the family than he already is. He’s one job offer away from moving the hell out of here, and seeing as he’s the brother I’m closest to, I don’t want to see him leave.

Selfish move, maybe, but he needs this town; he just doesn’t see it yet.

“Speaking of the rescue today, her name was Ren Winters. Is she the woman who’s renting Alabaster Haven?”

“Hell if I can remember.” Rogan drags his hand through his hair and pulls his phone from his pocket, unlocking it and opening his email. “Uh, Ren Winters, Alabaster Haven . . . yup, that’s her. Is she not staying now?”

“I have no idea. I just have her luggage in my truck and figured I would ask so I could drop it off.”

“Ah yeah, it’s her first day in town, right?” Rogan shakes his head and pockets his phone again, eyes cast forward. “Rough first day in Port Snow. Think I should send her an email and tell her to run the fuck away as quickly as she can?”

“No.” I take another gulp of water. “Is the key to the house in the lock by the garage?”

“Yup.”

“So you’re not going to greet her? Welcome her to Port Snow?”

“Not even a little.”

“You’re a shitty landlord, you know that?”

He takes another sip of his water and nods. “Well aware, bro. But to ease your mind, I’m meeting with her tomorrow to sign her lease. I’ll be sure to ask about your ‘pecs for days.’”

I chuckle. “Fuck off, man.”

CHAPTER FOUR

REN

When it comes to parents, a child has the right to filter their life. Meaning we have the right to tell or not tell them everything that’s happening in our lives. This is out of pure preservation. You’re saving them from worry—and saving yourself from the headache of dealing with them.

To put it simply, there is no way in hell my parents will hear about my little moose encounter.