The snow had been falling steadily for hours, blanketing the dense forest that surrounded Luke Hall’s off-grid cabin. It was a deliberate choice—solitude, serenity, and a little bit of survivalist therapy between jobs for Benton Security Services. He enjoyed most of the cases Jack Benton assigned him. They paid extremely well and with his simple backwoods life, the funds continued to grow in the bank, earning dividends for a day when he could just walk away from it all. Live in the woods full-time.

When he wasn’t on the job, he beelined it for the cabin. Here, there was no lazing around. He split wood in the mornings, hunted or fished in the afternoons, and worked out daily to keep his mind and body sharp.

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Today, though, something felt…off.

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Luke had just returned from checking his traplines when the sound hit him—an engine, sputtering and dying, somewhere down the forest road. Most folks didn’t travel the path without a reason. And especially not in the dead of winter. And Luke could identify every neighbor along the road by the sound of their engines. This wasn’t a local.

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He dropped his gear and grabbed his rifle. The snow crunched under his boots as he headed in the direction of the noise. The clouds boomed occasionally. A rarity for Luke. Although Shane Ellis’s wife Lila told him it was common to hear snow thunder in the Midwest.

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Fifteen minutes later, he found the source: a late-model Subaru half-buried in a snowbank, steam rising from the hood. A woman stood beside it, arms wrapped around herself, wearing a parka far too thin for this kind of weather. She looked up as he approached, her cheeks pink with cold, her lips thinned and set in the beginnings of a scowl. She was far too pretty to scowl. He could see she was beginning to shiver.

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“Engine’s dead,” she said before he could ask. “And I don’t have cell service here in Podunk nowhere. Figures.” She paused, then said, “Sorry, I shouldn’t have called it that.”

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Luke laughed. “You are in Podunk nowhere. Might as well call it like it is.”

He gave her a once-over—brunette, mid-to-late twenties, shapely, with delicate features but steady eyes. She didn’t look so pretty as to be entitled and a bitch. Also not panicked, or bitchy, thank god.

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“You’re lucky I heard you,” he said. “This road doesn’t see much traffic.”

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“That was kind of the point,” she muttered.

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His brow furrowed. “Running from someone?”

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She hesitated. “Not exactly. Just…I needed to get away. I rented a cabin on a travel site. Turns out it was a scam. The GPS, while it worked, directed me here.”

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Luke sighed. “Well, you can’t stay out here. Come on, my place is about a half mile through the trees. Warm fire, food, and working cell service once the storm passes. I can get Marvin to dig you out tomorrow morning.”

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“Tomorrow? But…”

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“The storm is only going to get worse. Might be mid-morning before you are all sorted, but my place is clean and dry and there’s a pull-out couch.” He didn’t mention the pull-out was lumpy and might still stink just a tad of Sue, his foster bear cub, who had struck out on his own nearly six months ago. He still missed the guy, but Sue was out living his best life, wild and free as a bear should.

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Her shoulders slumped with relief. “Thank you. Seriously. I’m Ember, by the way.”

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“Luke.”

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They didn’t speak much as they hiked to his cabin, her teeth chattering despite the quick pace. Inside, the warmth of the woodstove made her sigh audibly.

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“Hot chocolate?”

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“Yes, please.”

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Luke her mug full from the pot on the stove and asked, “Shot of whiskey in it? It will help you warm up.”

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Ember laughed, “Yes, please!”

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He handed it to her and then set a blanket around her shoulders.

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“That’s better,” she murmured, looking around. “You live here?”

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He nodded. “Off-grid. Between jobs.”

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“What kind of jobs?”

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“Security. Mostly witness protection.” He gave her a wry smile. “Let’s just say I’ve seen enough of the rest of the world to appreciate coming home to this place.”

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Ember looked at him then—really looked at him. There was something grounding about him, and his rugged good looks didn’t hurt. She exhaled slowly, asked, “You ever feel like everything back there,” she gestured vaguely south, “is just noise? That you would just be, I don’t know, better off here in the middle of nowhere?”

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“All the time.”

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They talked as the snow fell hard outside—about life, survival, regrets, and redemption. She told him she had recently quit a soul-sucking corporate job, struggled with what to do about a fiancé who’d cheated, and the day she’d simply walked out and never looked back.

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He pulled out the yak meat Tapeesa had sent home with him after the last yak slaughter. He’d defrosted a hunk of roast two days ago, marinated it in the fridge, then started the roast in the oven on low earlier in the day. After long hours on low in the oven, and the seasonings he had included along with some root vegetables, the meal was ready.

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Ember sniffed the air, rolled her eyes in appreciation, and grinned. “A man who cooks? How are you still single?”

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Luke grinned back at her. “My nearest neighbor is a mile away – with eight kids.” Tapeesa was also wider than she was tall, and dead-set on snaring his co-worker Shane Ellis, even now that Shane had married the lithesome Lila Benoit.

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He dished up the roast and vegetables, poured a finger of whiskey for each of them, and set it all on the table.

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Ember took a bite, closed her eyes and groaned. “This is so good! Is this beef?”

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“No. Yak.”

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Her eyes flew open. “Yak?!”

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“My neighbor with the eight kids has a yak farm. Five hundred head. She’s a yak baron.”

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Ember snorted. “Yak. Huh. Who would have guessed?”

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By the time dinner was over, and another two fingers of whiskey, the tension between them had shifted, become something else. Warmer. Closer.

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“You ever get lonely out here?” she asked.

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“Sometimes,” he said. “But not tonight.”

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She stood and walked over to him, her eyes full of desire. He met her halfway, his hands brushing her waist, testing for permission. When she leaned in, his lips met hers—slow, searching, then deeper.

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The kiss turned hungry, his months of solitude firing the heat they shared. Clothes fell away, lips and tongues moved against skin, and their bodies tangled near the fire. He explored every inch of her like she was something wild and beautiful he didn’t know he’d been waiting for.

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Later, curled beside him on a bed of furs, Ember whispered, “I didn’t plan this.”

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“Neither did I,” Luke murmured, brushing hair from her face. “But I’m not complaining.”

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She smiled against his chest, heart calm for the first time in weeks.

Outside, the snow kept falling.