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  “You’re serious.”

  Jake nodded. “And smart enough to ask my boss for his blessing to date Miss MacBain.”

  “Then why wasn’t your boss smart enough to say no?”

  Jake brushed at his pants again. “Because Niall likes me.” He looked up, still stone-cold sober. “And because he knows I can protect Katy just as well as any of them.”

  “Protect her from what?”

  “Men like you.” Jake snorted. “And me.”

  Gunnar chugged the last of his energy drink, wishing he’d dumped it down the sink and refilled it with the rest of that single malt scotch before he’d come outside. From the onset of this crazy odyssey, he’d assumed Jane had embellished her tales about Katy outmaneuvering the men in her extensive family in order to pique his interest. And he believed the MacKeages and MacBains still held to many of the old clan ways, but surely not to the point that a guy needed to ask permission just to date one of their women. Talk about handing over one’s personal power. Why would an obviously intelligent, fully grown woman put up with that bullshit, anyway?

  But then, who was to say how archaic he might act if he had a beautiful cousin running around tossing out smiles like Mardi Gras favors.

  “Christ, Sheppard,” Gunnar snarled to cover the fact he hadn’t anticipated this particular problem. “Katy’s at least two inches taller than you.”

  “So I noticed,” Jake drawled, amusement lighting his sharp brown eyes. “But then, it’s been my experience height doesn’t matter to women nearly as much as . . . length.”

  Forget the goddamn newspaper ads; Gunnar would call this bastard’s enemies personally.

  “What’s the matter, Wolfe?” Jake drawled on, openly grinning. “You rethinking your choice of sabbatical hidey-holes now that you’ve sized up your competition?”

  And he was starting with his list of cuckolded husbands.

  “I might put in a good word for you to Niall,” Jake added, the sudden seriousness in his eyes contradicting his casual tone, “for the name of that snitch in Brussels last year who—”

  “Fworry,” Katy said as she walked into the light of the fire, chewing while also licking her fingers. “I cwoudn’t find the cwandy, but—” She stopped talking and finished chewing while wiping her hand on her pants, then stopped in front of Jake and held the bottom half of a plastic box in front of him. “I found the homemade cookies my mother made that I kept smelling all the way up the interstate last night. Go on, take two,” she said, tilting the box enough for him to reach inside. “They’re chocolate chip and have been the grand champion cookie three years running at the Pine Creek Artisan Festival.”

  Gunnar frowned, even more confused. According to the evidence on her chin and lips, Katy apparently liked chocolate.

  “Thank you,” Jake said as he took two of the cookies. He bit into one and grinned up at her as he chewed. “I can see why,” he said. “Did your mother by any chance give you the recipe? Because the house I just bought, which happens to be right on Bottomless, has a fully equipped gourmet kitchen if you ever feel like baking up a batch.”

  She turned away with a laugh. “I hope it’s also equipped with smoke detectors, because I usually set them off just boiling water.”

  Gunnar couldn’t believe the bastard was continuing to dig his own grave.

  Katy walked over and held the box down to him. The firelight accentuated the curves of her body. “Take three,” she whispered. “Heroes who jump into cold rushing streams to save children deserve extra.”

  What the—did she just wink at him?

  Well, hell. Gunnar decided there must be Scots blood someplace in his family tree, because he was thinking any male over the age of ten should have to ask permission just to talk to Katy—him being the one exception, of course.

  * * *

  * * *

  Having gotten pretty good in the last three weeks at distracting her mind from trying to fill in what her memory obscured, Katy scowled up at the ceiling of her cubicle and decided that, for tonight’s entertainment, she would give herself a good scolding. Because really, what could have made her bring up Gunnar’s former occupation in front of a non-Atlantean? And if that hadn’t been enough of a blunder, she’d almost mentioned Atlantis by name.

  She may have gotten blindsided this morning, but forty-eight hours away from the gorgeous hunk of a man should be enough time to get used to her sudden and powerful attraction to him. Somewhere deep within, a tiny warning light flashed, but Katy scowled and turned her attention elsewhere. Officer Sheppard, for starters. What in the world should she do about him?

  She smiled, remembering how she’d almost burst out laughing when Jake and Gunnar had started in on each other like two roosters who’d just discovered a new hen in the coop. She couldn’t help being flattered by Jake’s obvious interest, but she’d shot straight into giddy schoolgirl mode at the realization that Gunnar had been acting rather . . . territorial.

  But then her scowl returned. She knew only too well what could happen when two males found themselves attracted to the same woman. Heck, when her brother Brody and Greg Lane had both gone after Betty Miller their senior year of high school, the posturing idiots had been so busy one-upping each other to impress the girl, it had been mid-July before either of them realized Betty had moved to Texas a week after graduation.

  But unlike Betty, Katy didn’t need boys—or in this case, men—fighting over her in order to feel feminine and desirable.

  It certainly helped soothe a badly bruised ego, though.

  So how in heck was she supposed to discourage Jake? Because she’d never really been in the position of having to deflect a man’s interest, since her brothers and cousins usually scared them off—usually before she even knew the obvious cowards were interested.

  Now, though, she was officially all grown-up and lived a hundred crooked miles away from her watchdogs. Well, except for Duncan and Niall and Alec. But she figured they were too preoccupied with their own lives to be interfering in hers. When Duncan wasn’t chasing after his youngest twin boys, who’d just started walking, he was busy keeping his and Peg’s other five children in line while also running a construction business. And when Alec wasn’t putting the finishing touches on the monster of a house he and Carolina were building at the far end of the fjord, he was racing after Lachlan whenever the magical little toddler decided it would be fun to jump in the Bottomless Sea and go for a swim with his orca buddies.

  And Niall? Katy smiled again. Even though he’d been born in the twelfth century, Niall was actually the most modern-minded of the three. But then, his understanding of how important it was for a woman to be independent probably had a lot to do with the love of his life, Birch, who happened to run the local women’s crisis center. Still, Katy was worried Niall’s ancient Highlander genes were about to make an appearance, seeing how last week Birch had finally admitted she was three months pregnant. Openly living with a woman was definitely a modern thing to do, but having a baby without their being married would likely prove more than Niall’s big old Highlander heart could handle.

  Come to think of it, maybe she should ask Birch how to discourage Jake, since both Birch and her mom, Hazel, had had plenty of practice discouraging men when they’d lived in Canada—even if the con artists had been more interested in their trust funds than in them.

  Too lazy to lift a hand to cover her yawn, Katy finally felt it was safe to close her eyes now that she’d replaced the looming nightmares with dreams of getting up close and personal with her handsome new boss. Which better happen soon, she decided, because she didn’t know if she’d survive three whole months waiting for a permanent chief to be hired. In fact, if she couldn’t find a way to get Gunnar to kiss her within the next week, there was a good chance she truly would embarrass herself by kissing him first.

  So, it was settled then. Exactly forty-eight hours from 7:
00 a.m. tomorrow morning, she was officially starting her completely in control but subtle pursuit of Mr. Wolfe. And on that note, and with images of the sexy mythical warrior kissing her in the moonlight reflecting off the magical Bottomless Sea, Katy fell into the first truly refreshing sleep she’d had in three weeks.

  Chapter Seven

  Feeling much like the proverbial moth being drawn to a flame, Gunnar followed his nose toward the open bay doors of the station, willing to bet the only restaurant in town serving breakfast had fan-powered vents running from its ovens directly out to the street. Because every day from 6:00 a.m. to noon, hapless tourists and locals alike inevitably found themselves following the unmistakable aroma of cinnamon-laced buns straight to the Drunken Moose.

  Having learned his lesson yesterday morning, Gunnar stopped short of stepping outside and slowly leaned forward enough to see the bench, only to straighten back up with a silent curse. Was there a reason Miss MacBain was still here? Hell, he’d waited in his private quarters a whole thirty minutes past shift change to avoid running into her.

  He peeked again, this time straightening with a frown. Aside from the matter of why the woman was still here, why was she wearing skintight britches and riding boots?

  Gunnar knew Katy was an accomplished equestrian, having found several old articles online accompanied by photos of her and a delicate-featured, long-legged horse—Quantum Leap, he thought the mare’s name was. Her older half-brother, Robert MacBain—who for some insane reason went by Robbie, even though the man towered over just about everyone on the planet—had been in several of the photos, most of which had been taken at various equestrian events throughout New England. But the articles, each fueling speculation the teenage girl from Maine was Olympic-bound, had suddenly stopped around eleven years ago. And if he recalled correctly, the last article had included a photo of Michael MacBain—who no one called Mike, apparently—proudly posing with his youngest daughter and her horse after they’d just placed first in the dressage segment of a three-day meet in upstate New York.

  Gunnar had scoured the Internet looking for why Katy had suddenly stopped competing, expecting to find where she’d taken a bad fall during the grueling cross-country segment. But the Olympic contender had simply vanished from the equestrian world.

  She obviously hadn’t stopped riding, though. But thanks to the fire pit out front, he knew Katy hadn’t ridden a horse to work yesterday. So why was she dressed in britches and boots and still freaking here, sitting between him and two fat, gooey, icing-covered cinnamon rolls with his name on them? After having to wait twenty minutes for another batch to finish baking last Thursday, he’d been smart enough to call in his order this morning while hiding in his room like a prepubescent schoolboy.

  Suddenly, Katy gave a whoop, shot to her feet, and bolted down the driveway. Stepping through the door to see what had her so excited, Gunnar saw a tractor-trailer rig set up for hauling horses stop in front of the church diagonally across from the station driveway.

  A towering man with shoulder-length dark hair climbed out of the driver’s door, and even from where he stood, Gunnar could see Robert MacBain’s grin as Katy ran across the road without slowing down or bothering to look for traffic. Hell, he was even able to hear the man’s grunt when she slammed into his chest, as well as Katy’s squeal of delight when the giant caught her up in a fierce hug that lifted her off the ground.

  Gunnar slid his gaze to the trailer, guessing that solved that mystery.

  Only to create a new one—where was Miss MacBain planning on keeping her horse? Because he was fairly certain Katy’s campsite, which happened to be within rock-throwing distance of the cabin—more like a wooden tent, if you asked him—he’d been calling home for the last two weeks, wasn’t large enough to fit a full-size pickup, a horse trailer, and a horse. And wouldn’t her more immediate neighbors have a problem with sitting around their campfires in the evening swatting flies and smelling manure instead of the sweet aroma of burning pine?

  Another wave of cinnamon-laced air wafted past his nose on the breeze blowing in off Bottomless, prompting a resigned sigh as Gunnar headed down the driveway toward the happy reunion. Sheppard might think he had the upper hand by having his boss’ permission to date Katy, but Gunnar had a feeling Robert MacBain’s blessing was the one that really mattered. He reached into his pocket with a snort, pulled out his fire chief’s badge, and clipped it on his belt, figuring he might as well put the ill-gotten asset to work.

  “Come on, Robbie,” Gunnar heard Katy say when he was halfway down the four-vehicle-wide driveway, her plea more demanding than cajoling as she tried to drag her half brother toward the trailer. “I haven’t seen her in over two months.”

  “Then two more minutes won’t matter,” the giant said as he held his ground and watched Gunnar walk toward them. “While ye introduce me to your new boss.”

  “My what?” Katy said, stopping in mid-tug to look toward the station, only to frown when she spotted him. “But how do you know he’s—”

  Gunnar saw her gaze drop to his belt and sighed again when he saw the amusement in her eyes as she lifted them back to his. Nope, definitely not an airhead. In fact, he was starting to worry Katy might understand the male mind a little too well. Oh wait, of course she did; the woman had spent twenty-eight years perfecting the art of outmaneuvering the men in her family, on the chance she might want to . . . say, maybe vanish off the face of the Earth for three entire weeks without any of them being the wiser.

  Checking for traffic, Gunnar seized the opportunity of having to wait for a motorcycle and stretch limo to pass to size up Katy’s sizable half brother. He stifled a grin as he pictured Sheppard craning his neck to ask Robert MacBain’s permission to date Katy—assuming the lengthy bastard even found the nerve. Although Gunnar was tempted to ask, because he was pretty sure he never wanted to find himself on the wrong side of this particular Scot.

  What in hell was in the water in Pine Creek?

  “Robbie,” Katy said when he finally reached their side of the road, “this is our fire chief, Gunnar Wolfe. Gunnar, this is my brother, Robbie. He’s brought my horse, Quantum Leap.”

  “Chief Wolfe,” MacBain said, extending his hand.

  “Oh, no, Robbie,” Katy drawled while looking directly at Gunnar. “We don’t use titles at SFF&R, because we want to be a relaxed and cohesive team.”

  “My predecessor’s idea,” Gunnar said as he broke the handshake and looked at Katy again. “May I ask where you intend to keep your horse?”

  “At the Inglenook resort. Olivia Oceanus was kind enough to—”

  “P-papa? Papa, I need help.”

  “Angus?” MacBain growled over Katy’s gasp. They rushed to the high open window on the trailer. “What are ye doing in there, son?”

  “I-I was bringing a surprise for Aunt Katy,” the young voice said on a sob. “But I . . . he’s dead, Papa. We need to hurry and go back to Gram’s so she can heal him.”

  “Who’s dead, Angus?” Gunnar heard Katy ask as he chased MacBain down the length of the trailer and around the back.

  “I swear that boy’s going to be the death of me,” the man muttered as he stopped at a door halfway up the other side. “Christ, he rode in there all the way from Pine Creek.”

  Gunnar undid one of the latches as MacBain undid the other.

  “He must have snuck in during one of my trips to the barn to get another horse,” MacBain continued as he lowered the ramp and vaulted up it before it even touched the ground.

  Gunnar followed, only to have to duck a large equine nose reaching for him and then bump into a second nose when he straightened, making him step back in surprise. Good God, they were drafts. Percheron, possibly mixed with Clydesdale or . . . hell, he wasn’t sure what they were other than huge.

  He knew Robert MacBain was a logger by trade, but he couldn’t imagine harvesting timber with horses wou
ld be lucrative enough to support the man’s household along with his horse-breeding hobby. And he’d swear he’d seen skidders and tree harvesters on the MacBain Logging website he’d found while researching Katy’s family. But then Gunnar remembered clicking a link that had taken him to MacBain Mounts, even as he also remembered wondering at the time if there was much call for draft horses bred exclusively for riding.

  The beasts were definitely drinking the same water as the humans.

  “It’s m-my fault, Papa,” a quivering voice said as MacBain dropped to one knee in the narrow aisle between the two front horses, letting Gunnar see a young boy clutching a black and white—and definitely dead—cat to his chest. “I . . . I killed Timmy.”

  “Angus,” Katy called out as she ran up the ramp and bolted past Gunnar, then slid to a halt behind her brother. “Oh, honey, what happened?”

  Deep gray, tear-soaked eyes lifted to hers. “W-we need to take him to Gram. She can make Timmy all better. But we gotta go now.”

  “Son,” Robert said gently, reaching out and palming the boy’s head. “Ye know Gram can only help people and animals that are alive. Here, let me take him.”

  “No!” Angus cried, stepping back. “That’s not true! She can help Timmy. I don’t want . . . I didn’t mean to kill him,” he ended on a whisper.

  “Angus, you know I’m a paramedic,” Katy said, softly. “Not a doctor like Gram, but I can help people and animals, too. It’s a good three-hour drive back to Pine Creek, and I’m right here. Why don’t you let me see if Timmy has a heartbeat? There’s an ambulance right up the driveway, and I have a stethoscope in it that’ll let me hear if he’s breathing.”