“Well, yes. They were all careful to watch where they—”

“Those sneaky, dirty rotten sons of—” He stopped the string of words and stomped around his desk toward the two doors at the back of the office. As he reached for the knob, the door flew open. Two men who’d come through a half hour earlier to take a lunch break were walking out. They both stared wide-eyed at their boss.

“Since when do you guys walk through the office to get back to the mill?” Hal asked sharply.

“Sorry about that. Must have forgotten,” one of the men stuttered as they both turned and made a quick retreat. I leaned over and stared into the break room. It had three round tables and sets of mismatched chairs, a refrigerator, a microwave and most notably, a back door.

Hal slammed shut the door and scrubbed his fingers through his thinning hair. His gray eyes seemed to be lost in thought for a minute, then he turned to me. “No one else will come through here unless it’s to speak to me.” He stopped and looked at the dirt on the floor. “No, wait, we need to take care of this right now.” He seemed to be thinking aloud. He walked to the microphone on his desk and picked it up. Three sharp beeps rang out over the yard. They were followed by a rough, scratchy sound. Hal spoke and his deep voice was projected out across the mill and to the forest and trees beyond. “Attention all workers. Let me have your attention please.” I paused and leaned down to look through the dusty front window of his office. Outside, some of the loud equipment slowed from a roar to a hiss and the tractors stopped moving. Hal cleared his throat. “Next man to walk through my office will be handed his ass and shown the door . . . or in this instance, the front gate. Back doors only for the locker and lunchroom. Yes, we have a new person in the office, and while she doesn’t look or smell like the rest of you knuckleheads, she’s here to work. So leave her the hell alone, or, like I said earlier, you’ll be walking out the gate with ass in hand. Now get back to work.” Hal nodded in approval at his speech as he put down the microphone. “Now, the papers are safe, so go take your lunch.”

“Thanks. I am hungry.” I walked to the door and reached for the knob.

“Uh, that’s the locker room. I guess I should put a sign on them since they’re both the same.”

“No, I’ll remember.” I glanced around at the files still left on the floor. “With no more interruptions from dirty shoes stomping through the office, I should have this done today.”

Hal growled. “I should knock each and every one of them upside the head.”

I walked into the break room and was relieved to see it was empty. Everly had been kind enough to fix me a ham and cheese sandwich to take along for lunch. She’d even stuck in some red grapes and a bottle of iced tea. I had no idea how I was ever going to repay her for all her kindness. For now, I had only my friendship to offer, which she seemed happy to have. I was definitely happy to have hers too.

I carried my lunch to the table next to a large window. Crumbs of food stuck to the grease on the table. I pulled out the napkin Everly had stuck in the bag and wiped away the crumbs. The room was dingy and cold, but the view from the window made up for the lack of comfort.

A long river cut through the mountains, eventually disappearing behind jutting rocks. The deep greens of the trees and pearly pinks of the granite cliffs looked as if they were fresh off a painter’s palette. I stretched my neck to see down below. A truck was sitting patiently as a man on a yellow tractor-style vehicle with a giant claw plucked fresh cut trees from the bed. Beneath the ramp where the truck unloaded was a section of river that ballooned into a glassy, navy blue pond. Logs covered most of the surface.

Even from the distance I sat, it was easy to recognize Jem Wolfe standing on top of one of the logs. He had the sleeves of his blue flannel shirt rolled up, and he was holding a long pole. Tattoos covered almost his entire left arm. He had a gray beanie pulled down over his hair, and beard stubble covered his perfectly chiseled, yet scarred chin. Dark and dangerous. It was as if the phrase had been developed solely with Jem Wolfe in mind.

A boat that resembled a miniature tugboat was docked near a long, smooth curb of cement and precariously close to where the logs were being dropped into the water. A large man dressed in a red flannel shirt and matching beanie pulled low over his head worked the levers in the boat. His size made the boat look like a toy as he maneuvered it between the floating logs and debris.

I took a bite of sandwich and slowly chewed as I watched Jem balance on one log and push others around with the pole. He stood as easily as if he was standing on solid ground. Now his ease at hiking the slippery, steep terrain at Phantom Curve made sense.

The man was most definitely cocky, confident and annoyingly hard to ignore. Without any effort at all, he managed to evoke an entire array of emotions in me. One minute I was blushing with shyness, the next, I was tightening my fists in anger. And in between, I was thinking about what it would be like to kiss him, and not just any kiss, but as he’d so richly described, a long, hard and getting down to business kiss.

I finally dragged my gaze away from the scene on the river and plucked a grape off its stem. Tomorrow was Saturday, and Everly had promised to introduce me to Alice, the bookshop lady with the old newspaper collection. I’d decided, as hard as it would be, I would find the original article about my dad’s death. I hoped it would give me some kind of clue. There had to be something to explain how I’d ended up at the forest ranger station. As blank as that piece of memory was, I was certain it had something to do with the accident. I’d been so dazed and tired and in shock when the ranger found me walking along the road, I couldn’t even remember my name. By some incredible coincidence, a woman who’d worked in a grocery store near my childhood home had been visiting a cousin in Blackthorn Ridge. She saw my face on the local news channel and called the police to let them know who I was and where I lived. The police matched my name, Younglove, with the name of the trucker whose charred body had been found in the ravine several days earlier. While I’d had plenty of bumps and bruises when they found me, there had been no evidence that I’d been in the truck when it went off the road. Nothing about that slice of time made sense. Even the police had been stumped. They’d eventually gotten hold of my only living relative, my mom’s sister, Aunt Carly.

I sucked on a grape and turned my attention back to the water. Jem hopped from one log to the next moving closer to the splash area where the logs were being dropped into the pond. With the help of his pole, he rode the final log like a paddleboard, never losing his balance even when giant ripples of water rolled beneath him.

As I watched him, someone from shore yelled, “Watch out!” An out of control log fell from the giant yellow claws, but instead of dropping into the water, it spun wildly around once and landed perpendicular to the shore. On its errant path, it knocked the man from the tiny boat. His body flew several feet, landing, mercifully, in an area of water that wasn’t covered by solid logs.

I jumped up from the chair and pressed my face to the window. The man disappeared beneath the surface. My gaze shot back to Jem, who had been balancing on a log a good twenty feet away. Without hesitation, he dove through the wood debris. Just like the boat operator, he vanished.

I raced into the office. A bell had sounded outside in the yard, and Hal was just leaving his desk chair to see what the commotion was about.

I raced past him to the front door. “They’re both in the water. The man on the boat was knocked overboard, and Jem dove in after him.”