True North (Golden Falls Fire Book 1)

by Scarlett Andrews

  Her mother waved her hands in dismay. “Well, I think it’s a mistake.”

  Her father nodded agreement.

  “I don’t know what you guys want from me.” Cassie stood, resigned to their disappointment. “I’d think my safety would mean something to you.”

  “So you’ve got a fan who sends you flowers.” Her mom shrugged dismissively. “I’ve received flowers from anonymous men before.”

  “It wasn’t just flowers he sent me,” Cassie said. “It was a bridal bouquet of calla lilies saying it symbolized how he was going to purify me into the well-behaved wife I’d be for him. That’s completely creepy.” She shuddered, remembering the yawning mouths of the white lilies, their yellow pistils like tongues. They’d all seemed to be shouting at her.

  “I just think if it really was a serious situation, the police would have done something about it,” her mom said.

  “How does Jason feel about you moving to Alaska?” her dad inquired of her stock broker boyfriend.

  “I’m on my way to tell him right now.”

  “He’s not going to wait around for you,” her mom warned. “A man like him—”

  “I don’t expect him to,” Cassie said curtly. “He was never intended to be a long-term thing.” None of her boyfriends had been thus far, as she was a career woman above all else. At age twenty-six, she wanted to establish herself before she thought about marriage or kids.

  “I don’t know why not. I think you should stick to him like glue,” her mom said. “He’s very handsome, and it’s clear he’s going places. He’s climbing right up that corporate ladder, and he’s going to be somebody someday.”

  “What does that even mean?” Cassie asked, although she knew her mother meant Jason would make a name for himself in the circles that mattered to her parents. “Everybody is somebody, Mom—but Jason’s not my somebody.”

  She left her parents’ residence with a feeling of dejection. If she was honest with herself, she didn’t want to leave New York at all. To her parents, she’d put up a front that this was the direction she was choosing, but she wasn’t, not really.

  She was running away.

  As she walked down the street, keeping an eye out for an available taxi, her phone dinged with an email notification. Don’t look, she told herself, but she looked anyway. It was from an unknown address. She didn’t open it, but couldn’t help seeing the first few words of its contents, and she knew who it was from. Doug Whatever-His-Real-Name, Doug who’d started out as a fan and was now her nightmare.

  You look so good in that dress you make me crazy I want to take—

  She wanted to throw her phone into the street and let it be run over. Instead she set her jaw as if she hadn’t seen the message and kept walking, heart knocking in her throat.

  A few weeks later, Cassie found herself sitting around a conference table with her new KFLS coworkers in the small city of Golden Falls, Alaska. She was Cassie Holt now, not Cassandra Caldwell anymore, at least for TV purposes.

  Holt had been her grandmother’s maiden name. When Cassie realized her stalker would easily find her online if she used her real name and therefore she’d have to change it, at least adopting her cherished grandmother’s name gave her a small measure of comfort.

  She’d ended things with Jason (no tears shed there), said goodbye to Abby, her best friend and roommate from graduate school who’d just gotten hired by a newspaper in Atlanta, closed all her social media accounts, and made her way to the Land of the Midnight Sun.

  So far, so good.

  Golden Falls was a small bustling city two hours’ drive northeast of Denali National Park, and home to Alaska State University. It was a place tourists came to stay and play and spend money. It had a tidy, frontier-chic historic downtown complete with an old-fashioned town square where the orchestra performed on summer evenings and where the town’s Christmas tree lighting took place each December. Adjacent the park was a footbridge leading over the town’s namesake, Golden Falls, a twenty-foot waterfall set in the Nanook River, where hopeful prospectors had once panned for gold. A distinctive heart-shaped rock sat under the falls, and it was a time-honored tradition for young lovers to throw stones toward it. The belief was that if you could get your pebble to stay on the rock, you’d found your one true love—and while Cassie had no expectation of finding love during what she expected would be a short stint in Alaska, she’d half-fallen in love with the town itself.

  She listened as the news director, Steve Kopacik, gave his daily staff briefing. Steve was a lifelong resident of Golden Falls who’d worked at the station for twenty years. KFLS Channel Eight had a hard news bent, and Steve prided himself on covering issues as well as or better than the Anchorage stations. Proof of that commitment could be found by looking at the conference room wall, which was covered in award plaques from national news associations. Or, by talking to Steve for three minutes, it would be sure to come up.

  Steve listened to pitches from the news producers, made a few assignments to other reporters, and then turned to Cassie.

  “Holt.” He addressed her by last name. “Is everything good to go with you? Ready for your ride-along with the fire department?”

  Cassie straightened in her chair. “Yes, sir.”

  After scanning her designer pantsuit, Steve peeked under the table at her peep-toe pumps. “Did you forget, short-timer? I told you open-toed shoes aren’t allowed.”

  Next to her Michael Driessner smirked. Her middle-aged co-anchor, he had tried asking her out her second day on the job. When she turned him down, he settled into a smarmy, “you’ll-give-in-one-of-these-days” flirtatiousness with her, punctuated with disdain for her newcomer status. She had a feeling it was a tack Michael took with every new and single female anchor.

  “No, Steve, I didn’t forget our conversation from yesterday.” Cassie tried not to visibly bristle at her boss’s disapproving tone and cutting words. “My closed-toed shoes are in my car, and I’ll change into them once I get to the station. They’re loafers.” Gucci, she thought but didn’t say, knowing he’d roll his eyes if she did.

  “Good.” He studied her. “I want you to capture their day-to-day life at the station. Give a glimpse into what they do for our citizens twenty-four-seven. Give it some real flavor.”

  “Will do.” As we also discussed yesterday, Steve.

  “That’s it, folks,” he announced. “Go make some noise.”

  As the others filed out, Cassie hung back. In some ways she was her parents’ daughter—a natural hard worker—and she wasn’t accustomed to taking crap from anyone. But Steve had been far less enthused to bring Cassie on board than she’d expected—after all, what rinky-dink news director wouldn’t salivate at the idea of hiring a graduate of the best journalism school in the country? Let’s just call it what it is, he’d said. You’re looking to get your experience and then get out. Cassie couldn’t disagree, but she assured him she was there to learn and give the job her all.

  And she would, but she didn’t need to take unjustified insults from him while she did.

  He eyed her while making notes on his tablet.

  “Something on your mind?”

  “I go by Cassie,” she said pointedly, although quivering inside. “Or Cassandra, or Holt’s fine, too—but I’ll ask that you not refer to me as ‘short-timer’ again, especially in front of the others.”

  Please don’t fire me, please don’t fire me, she wished fervently. She didn’t think he would jettison the investment of her relocation bonus, not to mention the trouble of finding a new anchor after just a few weeks. But who knew? If he was itching to get rid of her, he might use her challenging him as his chance.

  “Duly noted.” There was a begrudging appreciation in his eyes. “I hope you’re this direct with everyone in town, from the mayor to the police chief. I expect my reporters to speak with honesty, like you just did, and report the truth.”

  “Will do, sir,” she said, relieved by his response.

  Ret
urning to her desk, she prepared her tools of the trade: a digital voice recorder, notepad, pen, and laptop. She had a few minutes before leaving, so she researched her feature story, noting links and typing up statistics about fire and EMS call volume, funding, and public health and safety. As she did, her mind wandered. What would she be doing at this moment if her stalker didn’t exist and she’d gotten a job in New York City? She’d already be well into her day as a beat reporter, desperate for air time in a market choked with others like her, young and ambitious and hungry. This is for the best, she told herself, hoping that if she said it a thousand times she might actually come to believe it.

  When she arrived at Fire Station Number One, which was easy to find just one block south of Main Street, she parked between two large pickup trucks, a Ram and an F-350.

  The fire station was a new, modern-looking building, two stories of red brick with large windows. One side was entirely taken up by huge four-fold bay doors made of glass. Steel lettering above the doors declared it “Golden Falls Fire Station No. 1.” Three fire trucks were parked inside, along with a standard-size pickup and an ambulance.

  She felt an unexpected thrill about her day’s assignment. There’s something to be said about being a big fish in a small pond, she thought as she changed her shoes and walked from her car on the sunny, warm July day, the elevation and latitude making the sun feel stronger and brighter than she was used to. She would’ve had to kill, probably literally, to do a ride-along with the sexy FDNY firefighters.

  She hoped the Golden Falls firefighters would be just as smoking hot as those in New York.

  3

  Smoking hot indeed, Cassie thought after she rang the doorbell and the door to the fire station opened. A ruggedly handsome man stood before her. His blue eyes ran so deep and locked onto hers so fiercely that it took a moment to notice the frilly pink apron he wore.

  Then she laughed.

  “Well, you’re a surprise!” she said. “The apron, I mean. It’s quite incongruous with …” That body. The firefighter was average height but broad, with huge muscles taut beneath the fabric of his dark blue uniform shirt. His eyes were the piercing, painful blue of glacier ice, and shaggy medium-brown hair framed his face. She gestured in the general direction of his muscular upper half. “… with the rest of you.”

  “I lost a bet.” He stood motionless, and the moment grew awkward as he kept his gaze on her but said nothing more. There was no welcome, no come-on-in.

  Cassie tried again.

  “I’m Cassandra Holt. Call me Cassie.” She stuck her hand forward, and damned if she didn’t feel an electric current run between them when he shook her hand. He had a firm but not-too-tight grip, which Cassie was glad for because his arms were so powerful, like those of a boxer or bodybuilder. Or a firefighter, dummy. Like a man who carries people from burning buildings. “I’m from KFLS Channel Eight. I’m your ride-along.”

  He nodded, but still no words. Well, then, she thought. He’s definitely the strong, silent type. Whatever would he do with a chatterbox like her? Something delicious, she decided, suddenly fixated on his lips. When she forced her gaze up and met his equally compelling eyes, she noticed there seemed to be a bit of floundering in them, and just as she caught on that maybe he was tongue-tied—or even shy?—a foam football whizzed across the room and hit him in the head from behind. He seemed grateful for the opportunity to focus his attention elsewhere and turned to see who had thrown the ball.

  The thrower was a fellow firefighter, tall, dark, and handsome with an easy smile, who strode over and slugged the man in the arm.

  “Invite her in and introduce yourself!”

  “Oh—right!” His cheeks colored to match the pink apron he wore. “Come in!” He stepped aside to let her pass. “I’m Cody.”

  As she moved past him, she noticed his name, printed in white on the left breast of his uniform, just below the Golden Falls Fire logo.

  “Cody Bradford,” Cassie said, liking the sound of it. It was a good, strong, solid name. “Nice to meet you.”

  Cody said nothing in return.

  The other firefighter rolled his eyes and came forward to introduce himself.

  “I’m Sean Kelly. I’m the engineer—driver—on the engine truck.” They shook hands. “Excuse his awkwardness. Cody’s our resident hermit. He doesn’t interact with human beings much.” He gave Cody a good-natured shove, almost brotherly, and a smiling Cody pushed him back.

  Cody’s smile was warm and genuine, and Cassie’s curiosity was piqued even more. Where did sex and love come into play in a hermit’s world? Just looking at him, it was clear he had testosterone to spare—but did he have an outlet for it?

  “He lives out in the boonies,” Sean continued, “and it takes him a while to warm up his tongue once he gets back to civilization.”

  Warm up his tongue—I could help with that, she thought with a blush, shocked at her own gutter thinking. Never before on assignment had she been distracted by a man’s … tongue … and biceps … and bottled-up sexual energy.

  She bit her lip and looked at Cody in a new, considering way. Back in Manhattan, she’d always dated polished men. Men who were quick on their feet. Quick with a pick-up line. Quick to want to possess her sexually in a conquest sort of way. She was very much the same; dating in Manhattan was a competitive sport. Cody, on the other hand, seemed like a man who would take his time. Who’d linger over every inch of her body. And he’d probably want to have sex in nature, a fantasy she’d often had but never fulfilled. The fact that she was thinking about it at a moment like this was both disconcerting and arousing. But, hell—why not just run with it and have a little fun?

  “I’m sure Cody’s tongue works just fine,” she said, and when Cody got a deer-in-headlights look, Cassie grinned, amused by the idea that he may or may not be able to figure out if she’d meant anything sexual by it.

  Yes, Cody. Yes, I did.

  “Well, then he must be in awe of your womanly beauty,” Sean said. He had a deep heartwarming laugh, the kind you couldn’t help but laugh along with, and Cassie understood his comment had been more of a joke on Cody than a compliment toward her.

  “I’m sure that’s it. He’s in awe of my beauty,” she joked back, raising her eyebrows at Cody, daring him to refute the assertion—which he didn’t.

  Cassie’s whole body tingled with excitement.

  It was going to be a very fun day.

  Damn right I’m in awe of your beauty, thought Cody. So in awe I can’t get my shit together for the life of me.

  Cassie Holt was like a creature from another world, a woman so beautiful she didn’t seem real. An energy emanated from her the instant he opened the door of the fire station, and that’s what had caused his fumbling introduction. As did her pure perfection—because, really, everything about her was perfect, or at least perfect to Cody.

  She was petite and slender, but had elegant feminine curves which the pantsuit-thingy she wore showed off quite nicely. Her eyes were an unusually bright green, and there was a depth in them, too, that made him unable to look away. Her shoulder-length blond hair was styled into a perfect flip at the ends. He could tell her skin was soft, and he’d had to fight back a ridiculously inappropriate urge to stroke her cheek. He expected full well she would have slapped him if he had—which she’d have every right to do. He didn’t even let himself look down after his first glance, because she had a Barbie-doll waist and breasts to match, and it was much, much safer to look into her lively green eyes.

  Don’t get too worked up, he tried to tell himself. He would bet she knew next to nothing about firefighting, and her expensive clothes and quick, authoritative accent put her origins far outside Alaska. Cody would have guessed East Coast. Definitely a city girl. High maintenance. The opposite of his type. He would probably never see her again after today.

  “Cody’s your escort for the day,” Sean said. “Hopefully you’ll be able to get more than two words out of him.”

 
“I hope so, too,” Cassie said. “Or else it’s going to be a really dull feature story, and I’ll lose my job.” She turned back to Cody. “So you’re not a big talker, eh? I’m pretty good at getting people to open up.”

  “Well, that’s your job, isn’t it?” he said, and immediately wanted to kick himself. He should have said he looked forward to her trying, but the words didn’t come fast enough, and now it would just come off as lame.

  Thankfully, she laughed.

  “Indeed, it is my job.” She gave him a mischievous look. “Cody, we’re going to have fun together, you and I.”

  They headed toward the living room of the station, which was past the small entry vestibule. As they walked, Cody untied the apron string and pulled off the apron.

  “So tell me about this bet you lost,” she said.

  “Push-up contest,” he said. Ugh, Neanderthal. Speak, man, or she’s going to think you don’t know how! “Sean there challenged me and another guy to do a one-armed pushup contest while he threw the football at us to try and knock us off balance.” His heart warmed when Cassie giggled, and he continued, “The bastard only threw it at me, never at Josh.”

  “Excuses,” Sean called to him.

  “It’s true,” said Josh as he walked up to Cassie to introduce himself. “Cody mauls us all in any strength contest we do. Josh Barnes, good to meet you.”

  Cassie’s expression remained warmly neutral, but Cody was conscious that she glanced at his biceps even as she shook Josh’s hand.

  Feeling a bit emboldened, he tossed the pink apron onto one of the ten big black leather recliners that were set up in two half circles facing a wall-mounted big screen TV, and swept his arm the width of the living room.

  “So this is our living room,” he said.

  “This building is so modern,” Cassie said, looking around. “I guess I didn’t expect that.”

  Cody tried to see the fire station through Cassie’s eyes. He knew she wouldn’t feel the same sense of belonging he did every time he stepped inside, but he wondered if she might feel the same appreciation for the purely functional space. He’d set up his own cabin in much the same way, where everything was in order and everything had a purpose. Life could be messy, but the station never was.