Chapter 1

Um… Have I walked into a cartoon?

He doesn"t look real. Blinking hard, I shake my head and look again.

Nope, he"s real.

I break into a spontaneous smile as the little guy hops to another branch. It"s a fairly common blue-winged warbler, but he has unusually bright coloring. His head and body are a warm sunny yellow, with stunning bright blue wings. There"s a sweet little white patch on his shoulder that"s a perfect triangle.

Taking a few photos, I stay perfectly silent. Then he flits two trees farther away. My feet move slowly down the path, my breathing quiet and calm. Each motion is as smooth as possible. A breeze whispers through the top branches of the trees, yet everything else is still.

Every time I get closer, I snap only a few pics before he jumps somewhere else. I wish I could explain that if he would take just a moment out of his morning to stay still, I could make some money from his portrait. But I doubt that adorable birds with cool markings understand stock photographs or nature blogs.

There are other birds around, yet I keep my camera squarely trained on Hoppy, meandering slightly to the west.

The ground around here is damp and covered in leaves and sticks, but looks perfectly safe. I make a marker of three fallen sticks, lining them up in a tidy row before stepping off the mountain trail. Several hundred feet later, I make another one.

I"ve heard stories of people getting lost in the forest, so leaving myself signposts like these is crucial. I"m really not that far from the trail, but still I take a mental note of how far I"ve come, especially when I walk around a bit of a ridge and past some massive boulders.

Hoppy jumps down to a lower branch, and somehow – Oh! – bounces right into a beam of sunlight dancing through the forest.

Snap.

I take as many shots as I can as fast as I can, but I think that first one was the winner.

Although I don"t want to push my luck, I can"t help but creep closer as he darts to another tree and into a nook on a fluffy pine branch where the white triangle on his shoulder is right in another patch of light. Then the light dims, as a huge incoming cloud bank moves over the mountain.

I line up my shot, zooming in as much as I can without distortion, then slowly walk closer.

I scream as my foot slides out from under me and sideways into a jagged branch. The wood pierces right through my sneaker and into my skin, while I land on my butt, hard.

The warbler looks down at me, blinks, then flies away at top speed.

Ow ow freakin" OW.

At least my camera landed on my stomach instead of on the ground. I take a moment to catch my breath, my foot already throbbing with a sickening, stabbing pain. My butt and hip begin to ache from landing with my full weight on my hip bone.

The sun dips over the mountain, and the forest darkens as if someone had turned down a dimmer switch.

I check my phone. Crap. I thought I had another twenty minutes of daylight before dark.

And I haven"t heard anyone else out here on the trails over the past hour or so.

Tears prick my eyes as I consider my rotten luck. Why couldn"t this have happened this morning, when there were a ton of hikers around? I mean, sure, they scared off a lot of the birds, but at least I wouldn"t be out here completely alone.

I pack away my camera safely, then take a deep breath and try to stand. Owww. Seriouslybad idea. Putting any weight on that foot makes the open wound rub against the torn canvas. Plus, it"s so slippery right here that I might fall on my face next time.

"Hello?" I holler in the direction of the trail.

No answer. There is a huge boulder directly between me and the trail, and I can"t exactly shout straight through it. As well, there are so many trees that they muffle the sound, making it almost impossible to project in a single direction. Still, I"ll have to try.

I scream my head off for five minutes straight until my voice gives out and I start to sound like an old blues singer. Once I"m forced to give up…my throat is starting to ache as much as my foot…I assess the situation.

Mental pep talk time. All you have to do is rest for a minute, then find a way to stand up. Maybe I can use a sturdy tree as a crutch, and hobble to the trail. Yeah. That"ll work.

Then thunder rumbles in the distance, sending a shiver up my spine.

So much for returning to the charming small town of Old Hemlock Valley tonight for some food before finding a safe place to park the car and sleeping in the back seat. Now the goal is to make it back to the parking lot at the trailhead and use my car for shelter.

Was that a voice calling out? It was too faint to be sure. I call back, but my voice is blown out. Gathering up my things, I try to roll to the side, then bring myself to kneeling.

Some twigs snap right beside the boulder. I shrink back in shock.

Oh my… Is that a bear?

No.A gigantic man is lumbering toward me!

He"s definitely a local mountain guy, wearing a green plaid flannel shirt, well worn jeans, and work boots. And his thick arms have definitely chopped down a few trees.

He"s tall, dark and, frankly, grouchy looking, but there"s something about him that radiates strength and confidence. He"s obviously the kind of take-charge guy who will probably think I"m a pitiful mess.

As he comes closer, my mouth falls open in shock at the warmth and depth in his beautiful dark hazel eyes.

It doesn"t matter that he"s scowling as if I"ve just ruined his day.

He"s gorgeous. No, not just gorgeous… He"s panty-drenching sexy.