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Excerpt

The first words out of my mouth when I walk through the doors of the Spanish-motif firehouse late the next morning are, “What did I do in this life to be rewarded so greatly, oh Lord? I’ve died, and this clearly must be heaven.”

Much like the time I went to Greece, and the tour guide announced they chose the presidential palace guards for their appearance as much as for their security prowess, I feel overwhelmed by the devastating looks of the men in uniform. Christ, for the sake of the people who live in this community, I hope Dean hired them for more than their looks.

As soon as I have the thought, one of them hollers, “Welcome to Station 18. How can I help you?”

Just as I’m about to call back, a hand clamps down on my shoulder, and Dean murmurs, “Stop drooling. Most of them are married.”

Without remorse, I reply, “Busted,” before I yell back, “All good, boss.”

The young kid grins. “You’ve got the boss right there, sir.”

“Get back to work rolling that hose, Silver!” Dean bellows around me.

A beleaguered sigh accompanies his directive. I give the kid a once-over. “Awfully young.”

“They’re all young these days,” he grumbles.

Dean steps back, and I get my first full look at him in his station wear. The fire-resistant material hugs his broad chest and shoulders. I can’t help myself. My eyes drag down the front of his shirt to his slim cut pants before my eyes land on the heavy boots he’s wearing.

Without my asking, he lifts his foot before explaining, “We have to be ready to head out for anything—and I do mean anything—at a moment’s notice.”

“Like?” I ask truly curious.

His lips curve in the most delicious way before he shocks the shit out of me. “Gators.”

“I assume you don’t mean the kind you go rah-rah for in a big stadium in the fall?” I drawl, referencing the Florida Gator football team.

He scoffs, “If only people would stop feeding them their leftover Oscar Meyer bologna.”

I stop dead in my tracks. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

“Oh, I wish I was. Want a look around?” he offers.

“I’d love one.”

Dean gestures me forward. We pass a few more of his gorgeous colleagues, who he introduces as Breaker, Axe, and Knob, before we head toward the back of the station. My breath catches over the beauty of the location. Surrounded by fir trees intermixed with magnolias, the scent is something I’d never be able to replicate in Alaska. Inhaling sharply, I moan, “I wish I could bottle this smell.”

I didn’t realize how close Dean was until a whiff of his cologne weaves seductively through my senses. I know I’ll forever be searching for this exact combination wherever I go. My eyes pop open in surprise at the wayward thought. I meet his golden ones, which are crinkled in the corners.

“Damn. Here I am dreaming up L’Essence du Florida and being rude. I apologize.”

He reaches his arm up—Christ, is he making a move? Casually, as if my heart isn’t pounding at the idea, Dean croons, “I was hoping you’d keep your eyes closed.”

Almost of their own accord, my lids begin to lower. There’s a spark of awareness that crosses Dean’s face before his jaw firms. I shift microscopically closer.

His arm slides around my waist.

My heart thumps against the side of my ribs so hard, I’m afraid they’ll bruise.

He rasps, “Jed? There’s something I need to know.”

I’m melting and it has nothing to do with the fucking humidity. “What’s that?”

“How afraid are you of snakes?”

“Snakes? Why are you asking me about—” Everything, including time, stills as the heart that was pounding stops dead in my chest.

Just as I’m about to let out a scream Maris might hear back in Juneau, Dean’s face relaxes marginally. “Well, it’s not poisonous. That’s a good thing.”

“Good?” I’m a powder keg ready to explode at the mere mention.

Dean’s head cocks to the side. “Actually . . .” He lets me go and steps around me. Lifting a hand to the radio at his chest, he calls in to ask for a cage. “I think I just found the elementary school’s class pet. I’m going to try to catch it.”

Hearing that, I react instinctively—though I can’t say I’m proud of it.

I faint.

And it sure as fuck isn’t from pleasure.

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Other Titles Within this Series

RETURN BY AIR

Glacier Adventure Series #2

RETURN BY LAND

Glacier Adventure Series #3

RETURN BY SEA

Glacier Adventure Series #4

About the Author

Tracey Jerald knew she was meant to be a writer when she would re-write the ending of books in her head on her bike when she was a young girl growing up in southern Connecticut. It wasn’t long before she was typing alternate endings and extended epilogues “just for fun”.

After college in Florida, where she obtained a degree in Criminal Justice swearing she saw things she’ll never quite believe and never quite forget, Tracey traded the world of law and order for IT.

Her work for a world-wide internet startup transferred her to Northern Virginia where she met her husband in what many call their own happily ever after. They have one son.

When she’s not busy with her family or writing, Tracey can be found in her home in north Florida drinking coffee, reading, training for a runDisney event, or feeding her addiction to HGTV.

Connect with Tracey

Website: https://www.traceyjerald.com

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