Reaching For Normal Read online

  Maybe time to think about staying in one place long enough to have one.

  SAWYER Banks told himself not to, even as he pulled off his gloves and tossed them to the crazy woman sitting in his passenger seat.

  "You ever hear of winter?" Ridiculous orange sneakers, jeans that showed off every inch of her legs, and a jacket that only worked for winter in a place where flowers bloomed all year long.

  No hat or scarf. Not even any gloves.

  She'd been halfway to frozen solid when he'd spotted her grinning like a fool as she made another snowball to add to the pile she'd already created on the hood of her car. If you could call it a car. Instead of towing it, he'd been tempted to just lift the thing out and toss it in the back of his truck.

  Definitely not made for Vermont in the winter. Like its driver.

  Florida plates explained a lot.

  Nose and cheeks pink from the cold, she looked at him from bottomless hazel eyes. Distrustful, unsettled. She should be. February was no time for tourists.

  She needed to take her dark mass of whacked-out curls and hit the road. In the other direction. From the looks of it, she’d been stuck in the ditch for a while. Because she was too weak to get out? There was something wrong with her left leg but she hadn’t blubbered about it.

  Sawyer pushed away the questions forming. He wasn't interested. He’d had more than his fill of people who needed rescuing. Thankfully, Bloo Moose was less than five minutes away.

  Once she put on the gloves, he shoved the truck into gear and yanked up the baby car. The neon green paint hurt his eyes. Who chose a color like that? Same person who wore orange sneakers with pink spots all over them in the middle of winter.

  As soon as he put the truck into park, the woman slipped out and ran to the back, leaving his gloves on the seat. By the time he got out, she’d climbed into her car. He leaned one arm against the truck bed and waited for the vehicle to laugh at her attempt to thaw it.

  Instead, the silly green car flashed its lights at him and purred like a kitten. She opened the door and leaned out. "Thank you so much for hauling Freddy out of there."

  "Freddy?" She'd named her car Freddy. He needed to get back to his woods.

  Her grin lit up her eyes. "He's the exact shade of one of those tree frogs that live in the Amazon." She nodded to show that her explanation made sense. Right.

  Instead of asking more questions, Sawyer squatted down to undo the chain from the ridiculous Freddy and then his own truck. After dumping the chain in the back, he turned to her. "Take the car into Mel's Garage in town. Make sure there's no damage. She'll give you a fair price and good service."

  “Thanks for everything. Don’t know what I would have done without you. How can I pay you back?”

  Sawyer waved her offer away and got into his vehicle. A look in the mirror showed her smiling and running her hands along the steering wheel. Nuts. He rolled down the window and waved her forward. He'd ensure the wacky woman arrived at Mel's and then his duty would be done.

  The car surprised him again when it pulled out onto the road without so much as a cough. He followed her as she drove like a grandma toward town, slowing down at every curve and accelerating like a nervous snail.

  He shouldn’t have been surprised when she slammed on her brakes at her first sighting of the town’s end-to-end boardwalk and the life-size moose statues along the waterfront. The string of colorful shops along the other side of the street captured her interest as much as the lake.

  The dangerous, sexy woman shouldn't be allowed a license. When they approached the side street, Sawyer honked his horn, flipped on his blinker, and motioned for her to turn. She gave him a thumbs-up and turned, proving she possessed some sense.

  Once she spotted Mel's garage, she did some tooting and pointing of her own. After driving onto the lot, she gave him a big smile and wave as he drove on past. Damn if he didn't find himself almost smiling back.

  As he drove through the rest of the town, Sawyer used his Bluetooth and placed a call. The sooner it was over, the sooner he could ignore civilization.

  “Sawyer?”

  “Hey, Darby.”

  “Is everything okay? Did he want you to go back?” His sister’s voice trembled, making him realize he should have called her from New York.

  “No, Darb.” His sister might not know the details of Afghanistan but she knew the experience had shattered him. Sawyer had joined the Army a year after their parents had been killed. It had been a good way to ensure he could help Darby financially. Then Anderson had spotted him, taunted him into surviving BUD/S training, and signed him up for the teams. He’d found a place he belonged.

  For years, under Anderson’s command, he’d gone places people should never go, helped people who suffered unimaginable hurts, and thrived on the physical work, mental pressure, and teamwork.

  Until he’d returned from a scouting mission to find his team in pieces. Still, Anderson hadn’t given up on him. So, when the Captain asked him to go to New York, he’d gone. No questions. He’d do anything in his power for the man.

  Now the colonel was trying to recruit him again. To some training squad he was developing. How in the hell was Sawyer supposed to train others when he’d let his teammates die?

  Nightmares had plagued him since, except these dreams weren't make-believe, they were memories. He was shit at protecting people and his Spidey senses were gone. No way could he go back to that world. Not even for Anderson.

  “Nothing to worry about. I’m home and I’m not going back.”

  Darby’s exhale was audible through the line, making Sawyer feel even lower. He knew she worried and he had to keep his head out of his ass long enough to remember to call her.

  “Good. You stopping by?”

  He briefly considered turning the truck around but he knew she’d understand. “Too itchy. I’ll see you before I head out tomorrow. Going to do some tracking for a couple of days.”

  “Oh. Um.” Hell. That wasn’t good. “About that.”

  “What’d you do, Darb?”

  “I booked you a client in the morning. Snowshoeing.”

  Her overly cheerful voice had him keeping in a sigh. “Is this payback because I didn’t call earlier?”

  Her laugh sounded more than a little forced. “Nope. Just a snowshoeing lesson. I’ll make you waffles when you’re done.”

  Waffles. That meant it was even worse than he’d thought. “You sign up another rookie? You promised me you were done with that. The last one wanted to add getting laid in a snowbank to her bucket list.”

  Darby snorted out a laugh. “Myla’s not like that. You’ll like her. By the way, can you smell the cookies from there?”

  Sawyer gritted his teeth and focused on not yelling. His sister was determined to keep him busy with this guide business, keep him interacting with the rest of the human race. He hadn’t figured out a way to make her back off without crushing her and he’d done enough of that for a lifetime.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

  The hint of worry in her voice was his downfall. “Fine.”

  “Love you, Sawyer. Glad you’re back.” She hung up before he could answer. Typical.

  The rest of the drive out to his cabin was peaceful. The trees wore their blankets of snow, deadening the sound and creating a barrier between him and the rest of the world.

  Sawyer parked the truck behind his log home but instead of heading inside he walked around to the front and grabbed his shovel. Clearing off the decks and a path down to the dock would help settle him.

  Halfway through, the dogs bounded out of the woods and clamored for his attention, Loco bouncing around like the halfwit he was, while Gunner loped straight for Sawyer, demanding a rub down. The huskies probably had more than a drop or two of wolf in their blood, making them loyal, smart, and the perfect companions. No talking. No questions.

  They'd spent the time he was in New York fending for themselves in the bush and had returned to greet him with almost spo
oky timing. Just as they had since they’d adopted him a few years back. Deciding they all needed some playtime, he gave the command to get the ball. It was the only command where Gunner wasn't the first to comply.

  Loco jumped off into the snowbanks Sawyer had created around the deck, then burrowed into the corner where he kept the balls. The dog set off a triumphant bark when he found one and the trio turned to the lake. For the next hour, he played with the dogs and let the stress of Anderson’s request melt away, leaving his mind blissfully empty.

  Until the face of the woman he'd met on the road filled it. A striking face. Definitely not a traditional beauty. More interesting than anything else. Dusky skin, deep brown curls that had been partially pinned up with the rest tumbling everywhere. Deep hazel eyes with a touch of gold. Unique. Intriguing. Great ass didn't hurt. And while the legs were short, they used every damn inch well.

  Nothing wrong with noticing the facts. Nothing wrong with a little pursuit of those facts either if both of them were interested. Hell, Darby would be cheering him to do more than a little pursuing. It had been far too long.

  That's all it was. Anderson had stirred him up, made him think of things he hadn't thought of in a long time. Scared the hell out of him. No way could he go back to that life. No way was he anywhere near capable of training anyone else to watch their buddies’ lives seep away into the ground. Nope.

  Totally explained why his mind had latched onto the first woman he’d seen. Sure, she was attractive but his reaction to her was totally unwarranted. She was nothing like the women he'd dated before. Nothing like anyone he'd met before. A weird combination of energy and nerves.

  Shaking his head at himself, Sawyer threw a long last bomb for the dogs to chase. As usual, Gunner's straight trajectory beat out Loco's distracted run. Some serious canine ADHD in that one.

  While the dogs chased each other through the snow and over the ice, Sawyer let the whole scene soak into him. No one to rescue. No one to watch die. No one expecting him to be the hero.

  No one.

  Exactly the way he wanted it.

  #whatbigteethyouhave

  Myla wondered if she’d taken a wrong turn and ended up in a snow globe. From inside the bubble of Freddy’s warmth, the tunnel of trees and snow closed out the rest of the world. Darby’s instructions had been clear so she was pretty sure she wasn’t lost but she was also pretty sure she’d left civilization—and maybe reality—behind. The plowed road gave her some confidence but she’d only seen trees, bushes, and snow for ages. No houses. No power lines.

  On the plus side, no Yeti or polar bears either.

  As Freddy crept around yet another curve, a building appeared on the right. Two garage doors as well as a people door along the front. The mossy siding would have it blending in during the summer and even in the winter, it somehow didn’t look out of place.

  No signs announced its purpose but Myla figured she’d found Sawyer’s so-called shed because there couldn’t possibly be two buildings this far out. She pulled Freddy up and parked along the edge of the snowbank. No other vehicles. A peek at her phone showed she was a couple of minutes early and, as predicted, there was still no cell service. No way to check she was in the right place.

  As Myla stepped out of the car, the crisp air tickled her nose and tried to penetrate her new outfit. Her puffy black ski pants and bright red jacket laughed at the cold even as they made her feel like a marshmallow. Earlier that morning, Darby had pointed her in the direction of CharterGear, owned by Quinn Charter, another member of the Hot and Sexy Bloo Moose Men’s Club. The town should start a marketing campaign.

  Weirdly, Quinn’s smile and charm hadn’t provided a single tingle. Not like her interaction with her grumpy rescuer. She’d never been drawn to his type before. Joel, the spawn of pond scum, hadn’t had a solitary alpha tendency. To be fair, he’d been more of an experiment than a real relationship. She’d known her heart wouldn’t be involved when he dumped her. Which he had. Like the weasel he was.

  Myla grabbed her hat and mitts, slammed Freddy’s door, then patted his hood in apology. No more thinking about the spineless worm. Sure, she’d expected him to have some kind of reaction to her leg but the man had almost vomited in his hurry to get away from her.

  Shaking off the thoughts, Myla yanked up the collar of her jacket, tugged down her hat, and wound the scarf around her neck. Darby had told her it was a beautiful winter day but the woman was obviously crazy. Every time Myla exhaled her breath materialized as a little cloud. Air skated down to her lungs, chilling her from the inside out.

  Knowing movement would keep her warm and distract her from her depressing thoughts, Myla turned her attention to the woods.

  Her editor wanted a dozen or more articles out of her two weeks in Bloo Moose and her total knowledge of winter was zero. Unless she counted her moose encounter and subsequent visit to the ditch.

  While her blog audience would love those stories, her editor was looking for actual winter adventures. Purposeful adventures. Sure, her anonymous blog was gaining more sponsors all the time but, most of her income came from travel writing.

  As usual, Myla wasn’t planning on advertising the fact that she was a writer to the people of Bloo Moose. She still wasn’t sure how she’d ended up confiding the information to Darby but the woman agreed with the secrecy plan.

  Few people acted naturally when they knew she was going to write about her experiences—even when she explained that she never identified people and rarely identified places. Her editor liked her to appeal to a wide audience and to make people feel as if they could copy her exploits no matter where they lived.

  Myla clomped toward Sawyer’s shed—how could anyone call this huge building a shed?—and knocked on the door. The mysterious guide might have walked here from wherever he lived. Probably in a secret cave hidden deep in the woods if he was as reclusive as his sister implied.

  No answer.

  Waddling in her thick clothes, Myla shuffled around the building, searching for another entrance. The snow crunched with every step. The top layer was thick and hard but about an inch down, it was light and fluffy. Weird.

  Trudging around the building, she found nothing more than some high up windows and a log pile on one side. Apparently He-man used a wood stove and didn’t care that civilization was a mere thirty-minute drive away. Hard to imagine what he kept inside. The shed was bigger and in far better shape than many of the foster homes she’d stayed in.

  Five minutes later, worry started to gnaw at Myla. The shed’s door was locked and Sawyer might be injured or unconscious inside. She wasn’t tall enough to peek in the windows but the log pile was close to one of them so she headed that way.

  Sure enough, the logs were stacked close to the window. Unsure if they would hold her, Myla kicked at the pile. They weren’t conveniently stacked like stairs, so she moved a few. The mittens helped with the cold and kept the slivers away. Multi-purpose, she thought with a grin.

  Between the exertion of moving the logs—so much heavier than they looked—and the thick clothing, Myla was sweating by the time her staircase was ready. Her weak leg didn’t like the icy surface or the wobbly footing but she eased her way right to the top. The window was a foot or so to the right and dark. Leaning out, she grabbed at the sill with one hand and shifted the pressure on her legs.

  Barking shattered the silence and threw her completely off balance. Myla slipped and thumped to the top of the logs, then hit every single one as she tumbled to the ground below.

  Snow wasn’t nearly as soft as it looked. Before she could even catch her breath, two huskies rounded the building, howling and barking as if they’d discovered the world’s biggest bone.

  Fear rippled through her until she realized they weren’t attacking with anything but their tongues. As they surrounded her, stepped on her, and licked at her face, she gave in to the inevitable and stopped moving, legs on the logs, head in the snow, and tried to pat them into submission. The friendly mon
sters probably weighed as much as she did and they were definitely stronger.

  A sharp curse had both dogs’ heads lifting, even while their paws pressed her farther into the ground. “Dimwits. Get off the woman.” More muttering as a man’s hands reached down through the dogs, shifted some logs, then yanked her up through the fur and wood until she slammed into him.

  Him.

  Him, him.

  Sexy, grumpy, rescuer, him.

  “You’re Sawyer?”

  Frozen chocolate eyes stared back at her. Well, more of a glare than a stare. The dogs continued to sniff and lick but she couldn’t have pulled her eyes away if they were the Yeti she’d imagined earlier.

  Sawyer. The man she’d fantasized about last night. The man she’d booked to work with over the next two weeks.

  Even through the thick layers of clothing, her body reacted to him. It was more than the muscles, more than the face. She’d never had such silly, lustful reactions to any man. Maybe it was the whole strong and silent thing. Her body was definitely in lust.

  Too bad he didn’t appear to have the same reaction. If he did, she could recruit him to help her take the next steps to owning her sexuality. Well, have sex, anyway.

  Even the thought of being skin to skin with Sawyer sent chills through her. She’d never felt that way about any other man and she didn’t want to feel anything with this one. Winter was wreaking havoc with her body.

  “You? You’re the one who wants snowshoeing lessons?” The disbelief in his voice matched his gaze as it flickered over her new winter gear, to Freddy and back. “Why?”

  There was the sixty-four thousand dollar question. Best to go with part of the truth. “I’ve never done it before.”

  Sawyer’s baffled expression faded, his jaw tightened and she thought she heard his teeth grind. He didn’t even blink while he waited for her to elaborate. Not going to happen. Once she started talking, she’d babble. She always babbled when she was nervous and every last thing about the formidable man in front of her had her nerves singing.