Thank God today he was feeling much better. He tested himself by raising his head, which didn\u2019t fall off. Progress. He\u2019d been off work for four straight days, and the sleep medication had helped. His fever was gone. Better yet, when he sat up then staggered to his feet, he didn\u2019t want to die from the movement.

He took a shower, dressed, and drove himself to the nearest drive-thru for his
first real meal in days. He parked at the beach to eat his breakfast of
champions while watching the rough winds and gathering storm churn up
perfect five foot California surf that he wished he was out in. Halfway through
his bag of cholesterol, he got a text from Search and Rescue where he put in
extra hours every month\u2014they had a female hiker reported lost up in Big Falls
Canyon.

Big Falls was the mountain range just outside of Santa Rey, and though the
trailhead was only several miles from civilization, once someone stepped on
the trail and started hiking and surrounding themselves in the centuries old,
several hundred feet high thick conifers and pines, it was incredibly easy to get
lost in the wilderness. It happened all the time\u2014which was why Search And
Rescue kept so busy. But during a storm, getting lost could mean getting dead.

He set aside the rest of the food, slurped in half of the orange juice for the
sugar rush, and headed to S&R headquarters\u2014the ranger station at the base of
Big Falls.

But the station was locked\u2014as it often was early on a weekday morning during the off-season. Huh. He eyed the envelope sticking out the corner of the door. It had his name on it, as did the note inside. The small, neat, female writing was oddly familiar, and once he started reading, the words snagged him by throat and squeezed.

Besides, it\u2019s not really entirely false pretenses. I\u2019m up the trail waiting for you,
heading toward the spot where we used to go. I\u2019m probably already lost
looking for it.

I\u2019ll need you.
Yours,
Sara

Just her name brought it all back. Being young and wild and stupid in love with her in high school. Being young and wild and stupid in love with her while he\u2019d gone through the fire academy, and she to design school. Being young and wild and stupid in love with her until the day she\u2019d left him for Paris and the fashion world.

Without a word.
But that had been five years ago and he\u2019d gotten over her. So over her.
So why was his gut twisted up like a pretzel?
Lifting his head, he took in the increasingly darkening sky, then the trailhead\u2014

if he remembered their spot.
He remembered.
And if she was heading toward it, she\u2019d have an unwelcome surprise. There

He considered turning around. But he\u2019d never turned his back on a stranger, so he couldn\u2019t very well do it to someone who wasn\u2019t a stranger at all, much as he wanted to. Instead, he swore to himself and began heading up the damn trail.

Was she doing the right thing? Sara wished she knew, but the truth was, she\u2019d lost her trust in her instincts long ago. Or maybe she\u2019d just lost her trust in her own decisions, specifically the one she\u2019d made to leave California for Paris.

When she thought about what she\u2019d given up in order to go off and find herself,
her heart physically hurt. It had hurt the whole five years she\u2019d been gone.
She\u2019d played at design, flitted around, all under the guise of growing up, but
the truth had been far less flattering.

And when she\u2019d realized that painful truth, she had to face the rest. That the running had to stop. That she had to learn to deal with and face her emotions, no matter how scary.

After at least a half a mile of walking straight up the narrow trail, she came to a fork where she could go straight, or veer off on another trail to the left, neither of which looked familiar. \u201cDamn.\u201d

cargos\u2014while perfectly designed and sewn by hers truly\u2014were no protection from the wind. It whipped up around her, tossing her hair, stinging her cheeks, making her wonder if she was doing the right thing by forcing a reunion with the man who in all likelihood hated her.

There he was\u2014Sam Reed, just over six feet of tall, lean, rugged, sexy man. He
had short dark hair and dark eyes to match, the gorgeous coloring he\u2019d gotten
from his Latin mother. He wore baggy Levi\u2019s low on his hips and a dark blue T-
shirt with the words Search And Rescue\u2014Santa Rey Division on a pec. He
wasn\u2019t smiling, but she happened to know that when he did smile, it came off a
little sweet, some charming, and had a whole lot of wicked naughtiness to go
with it.

But he clearly wasn\u2019t feeling any such need, and she tampered the urge,
reminding herself that she\u2019d put that look of anger on his face. \u201cHey,\u201d she said
softly. \u201cSo we go right, then, to get to the spot?\u201d

She looked different, Sam thought, his heart going off like a jackhammer. She
was still hauntingly beautiful, but no longer coltish and unsure. No, the petite
blonde in front of him had a new confidence. It was in her clothes that spoke of
an easy elegance, in the way she wore flawless makeup, and in her blond hair
\u2014once long and wavy, now short to her chin and artfully tousled\u2014adding to the
overall air of sophistication.

In his pockets, Sam\u2019s hands fisted. She was afraid of thunder and lightning,
always had been. There\u2019d been a time when he\u2019d wished for a violent storm so
that she\u2019d leap right into his arms and he could comfort her.