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"What's going on?"
"Brooke and I are at Doc Seagram's. The baby's got a bad cough and the doctor wants us to take him to the hospital in Ponderosa Pass."
"Oh my God. What can I do to help? Do you need me to drive? Or a room at The Hamilton?"
"No, we're heading out the door now. I didn't have your cell number so I called directory assistance for the number to the house. I really hate to ask you for a favor, but the woman at the cabin just called. It was hard for me to understand what she was saying but she sounded upset and I just can't take the time to go and check on her. But I think she might be in trouble at the cabin."
"I'm on my way," I say walking out of the kitchen with the phone up to my ear and then it gets jerked out of my hand when I realize I'm on a landline and not my cell. I pick it up off the floor. "Sorry about that. I'll go check and then let you know." I give him my cell number, hang up the phone and run down to the shop and hop in Dad's old truck. Because it needs a test drive. And not because I don't want Alex to see my fancy new truck.
I pull out of the driveway and send up a little prayer for Caleb and his family.
* * *
ALEX
I hear someone pull into the gravel driveway. I'm torn between relief that help has arrived and abject humiliation at my predicament. Thank God I was able to reach around with my right hand and get my tiny flip phone out of my pocket. I only have two numbers in there, Nicco and Caleb. Calling either of them, or anyone on earth for that matter, to ask for help in this situation is like a fate worse than death, but since Caleb is actually in a position to help me, I swallowed my pride and called him. He sounded a little flustered when he answered and I immediately regretted my decision but I didn’t have any other options. At least he didn't recognize me as Xander and if I dial 911, someone might figure out who I am. Or they'll ask for ID.
I tried to explain to Caleb what was wrong but I'm not sure he understood. I think we got cut off. I should be grateful I got a signal at all, especially from under the damned porch.
I hear him knock on the front door and call out for me. Is it horrible that my tummy flutters when I hear him say my name?
"I'm back here," I shout but all that does is stir up the dirt and scare the kitten. During my time under the porch we've bonded but my shout sends her scurrying back to the corner where I first saw her.
Steps on the back porch echo beneath and the wood vibrates over my shoulder painfully. "Ouch!" I say, hardly sounding grateful.
"Holy shit, Alex. What happened?" He steps off the porch and I can see his boots as he moves around the side of the porch to where I am stuck with my legs poking out.
I twist around and see that he's crouched down, peering under the porch at me.
Damn him for being so good looking. It's distracting. And unfair. How can one man be so fucking hot?
He rests his hand at the small of my back, inches from my ass and heat spreads all through me.
"I'm stuck."
"Yeah, I figured that. What happened?" He lays down on his stomach so he can see my face. Great. I'm sure I'm a fright.
"There's a kitten. I thought it was stuck, but it's not. However, I am." I wiggle around until he pats my back.
"Hold still. You might make it worse." His hand on me is calming and alarming at the same time.
"Are you hurt?" he asks and the tone in his voice tugs at my heart. Real concern.
"I don't think it's anything serious. I just can't get out."
He stands up and for an instant panic rushes through me. What if he just leaves me like this? Then I see his strong hands wrap around the edge of the porch and he lifts. It's not like he's Paul Bunyon and rips the whole porch in half, but it moves up enough that I can get out. The kitten does too and takes off for the woods. Ingrate. I thought we were friends.
Caleb helps me to my feet and we face each other. "Thanks—" I start to say but the shocked expression on his face stops me.
"What is it?" I ask. Oh my God. Did I get into something extra disgusting under the porch?
"Your hair," he says, staring. "Did you get that much dirt in it? Or tear some off under there?"
I reach up and touch my shorn tresses and realization sets in. "Oh," I say. "No, I did that myself. After you left the other day. I finished cutting it and went back to something closer to my natural color."
"Whew," he lets out a breath. "I thought something really bad happened to you."
That hurts a little and it must show on my face because he begins apologizing. "I mean, it's not that it looks bad. In fact, it looks nice. I like it. It's pretty. But the lavender was pretty too, just a bit different from this. And I'm glad you cut off those long parts. Don't want to get those caught in my buttons again."
