The 48 Hour Hookup (Chase Brothers) by Sarah Ballance Page A

firewood should be, but it wasn’t snow-soaked either. With any luck, it would burn…if they managed to light a fire, that was. He crammed it into his backpack and headed down the trail.
    By the time he made it back to the shed, her gear was back inside, and she was nowhere in sight. She couldn’t have been more than ten or fifteen minutes ahead of him by then, but now that he’d seen she’d gotten back to the lodge, he figured he shouldn’t look for her at all.
    A breeze blew, chilling him. The sun was bright, and the air temperature on the rise, if the dripping ice was any indication. He glanced at the power lines heading into the lodge. Everything there appeared intact, not that that meant anything. There were probably a few miles of wires between there and the substation. He withdrew his phone. Upon discovering he had a signal, he called the local power company and reported the outage. No estimate on restoration, as they were still assessing damage.
    He suspected Claire needed space, and he didn’t mind giving it to her. He felt bad, but throwing an empty apology her way wouldn’t help things, so he figured it was as good a time as any to get to work. At which point he remembered he was missing the equipment he’d left in his truck and hadn’t been able to retrieve due to the storm.
    He shook his head. Without the bulk of his gear, he wouldn’t get much done in the basement with the furnace, but with the power out, it made more sense to start in the attic, where all he needed to do was check over the ductwork. Since there appeared to be attic windows, he’d have more natural light to work with up there anyway, which was convenient without electricity.
    On his way in, he checked the window on the service porch. It was open. He swore under his breath, then backtracked and walked to the front door. If the stupid raccoon was in the kitchen again, he didn’t want to run it to the front of the lodge.
    He stomped his boots on the wide porch, giving the soul- and truck-crushing tree a side-eye, just because he could.
    When he walked inside, Claire was stoking the ashes, no hint of a fire brewing. She spared a backward glance, but barely.
    He dropped the wood on the hearth. “The window is open again,” he said.
    That earned him good long look. “You’re kidding me.”
    “You didn’t go to the kitchen yet?”
    “I haven’t been here long,” she told him. “Thanks for the wood.”
    He nodded an acknowledgement. “I called the electric company. No clue when the power will be on. If it’s okay with you, I’m going to get started in the attic checking out the ductwork.”
    “Do you need any help?” she asked, her voice noticeably softer.
    “Just tell me where the access is.”
    “There’s actually a real flight of stairs. Follow the upstairs hall all the way to the back. There’s a narrow door on the left that leads up there.”
    He gave a brief nod. “Okay. That’s where I’ll be.”
    “Liam?”
    “Yeah.” That little knot he had in his chest loosened when she said his name.
    She wiped her hands on her pants and stood. “Do you mind going with me to the kitchen? I have stuff in the freezer, assuming it’s still cold, for a stew I can make over the fire, provided I ever get it lit, but I’m not sure what’s waiting for me in there.”
    “That’s a lot of ifs and maybes, but if you’re going to make a stew over the fire, I’ll go with you anywhere.” His stomach rumbled at the mere suggestion. He was missing his mom’s Sunday dinner.
    “I never said it would be great stew. I’m not much of a cook.”
    Nevertheless, he gave her a grateful smile. “Camp rules. Anything cooked over an open fire is delicious.”
    “I’m going to hold you to that,” she warned as she followed him down the hall.
    He paused long enough to grin at her before he flicked the switch on the pocket door. Before he opened it, he slid it open just enough to grip the free side with his hand and kicked the bottom a