Mr. February Read Free Page A

word.”
    “You’ve been kind of busy. Besides, I only met him this morning, when I was out, chasing Pooh,” Jillian explained. “He isn’t my type.”
    “A man with his looks is any woman’s type,” Shannon murmured.
    Chelsea nodded. “For an old guy, he’s cute.”
    “Hey, watch it,” Jillian said. “He’s around the same age as Shannon and me.”
    Busy making baby talk to Georgia, Chelsea didn’t reply. As young as she was, Jillian had a hunch she’d make a good mom.
    The baby began to fuss. “She’s hungry, and I need to feed her,” Shannon said.
    Jillian nodded. “And I should get back to the studio.”
    They all stood. Jillian hugged her friend.
    “Good luck with your search for Mr. Right,” Shannon murmured in her ear. “Keep me posted.”

Chapter Three
    ‡
    E arly Friday morning, Rafe parked off the dirt road a mile or so from where he usually parked when he visited his newest property acquisition.
    He exited the car and then leashed Calvin, his sixty-pound Vizsla. In contrast to the previous day, the sky was clear. Despite the chill air, leaf buds on the trees and trills from several hardy birds signaled the coming spring. A great day for a run.
    Calvin agreed, and when Hank and Gus, fellow crewmates, showed up, the dog woofed in excitement. He knew what lay ahead.
    Rafe was tight with both men, as well as the other nine firefighters and the captain and who worked his shift. Living together every week for forty-eight hours straight meant getting to know each other real well, warts and all. None of them was perfect, but Rafe knew without hesitation that no matter what, they had his back. Just as he had theirs.
    After they greeted each other and stretched, Hank glanced around. “I’ve never been out here before. It’s nice. Which way are we heading?”
    An avid runner who’d attended college on a cross-country scholarship, he usually set the pace at just short of torture.
    Eager to show his buds the site of his future home, Rafe gestured toward the west. “Straight for about a mile then head right. I’ll let you know when.”
    Hank nodded. “You jokers ready?” Without waiting for an answer, he took off at a fast clip.
    Rafe was in good shape, but dodging mud and puddles, tree roots and imbedded rocks, took its toll. Soon, his breathing grew labored and his leg muscles burned, urging him to slow down.
    Not an option. Relying on mindful observation, a tool of self-discipline he’d learned from his father and had honed with years of practice, Rafe concentrated on his breathing and let everything else fall away.
    A few yards shy of the turnoff, he lengthened his stride and caught up to Hank. “Turn here.”
    After veering right, the cross-country fanatic upped his speed to killer level.
    Soon they reached the edge of Rafe’s property. “This is it,” he called out, coming to a stop. Calvin plopped onto the grass, panting. “The site of my new home.”
    Hands on his knees, Gus gulped air. “Great view of the Siskiyou Mountains,” he said when he straightened. “I see Guff’s Lake in the distance, too. Sweet.”
    The town’s namesake was located in the foothills of the Siskiyou Mountain Range. Snowmelt kept its four-mile diameter waters sparkling and drew locals and tourists for fishing, hiking and camping. Or for luxury accommodations at the five-star resort and hotel.
    Hank wiped sweat off his face with the hem of his T-shirt. “I see why you decided to use this part of your ‘vast empire’ for yourself. It’s about time you did.”
    Rafe’s holdings hadn’t exactly reached vast empire status yet, but he approved of the label. “I’m thirty-two,” he said. “It’s time I built myself a home.”
    A permanent place, where he could put down roots.
    “You hired Sonia to design the house, huh?” Hank asked.
    Rafe nodded. “She’s the best architect around.”
    “If she’s like the rest of the women you date, she’ll probably work for free to get you into the sack,