Firefly Mountain
ALASKA HEART
“If you’re in the mood for a cozy fire, a cup of cocoa and a hot romance, you don’t need to go any further than Alaska Heart.”
~Long and Short Reviews (5 Books)
~*~
“This is a great book. Christine DePetrillo really takes the readers on a trip to Alaska, and on a ride on a whirlwind romance. I recommend that you go and buy this book. You won’t be disappointed.”
~Happily Ever After Reviews
(5 Tea Cups, A Recommended Read)
~*~
“There are only a handful of characters in the novel and, by making sure that each is well developed and integral to the plot, DePetrillo gives the story a cozy feel.”
~RT Book Reviews (4.5 Stars)
~*~
LAZULI MOON
“A magical gem, a yummy doctor, a spunky archeologist and a very bad man all combine to make this a real page-turner.”
~The Romance Reviews
~*~
“The characters are likable, the romance was smoldering, and the pacing was excellent. Anyone looking for a great adventure story with a happy ending will not be disappointed.”
~Long and Short Reviews
by
Christine DePetrillo
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Text copyright © 2012 by Christine DePetrillo
Originally published by Wild Rose Press
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Published by AmazonEncore, Seattle
Amazon, the Amazon logo, and AmazonEncore are trademarks of
Amazon.com
, Inc., or its affiliates.
eISBN: 9781503985759
Cover Designer: Angela Anderson
This title was previously published by Wild Rose Press; this version has been reproduced from Wild Rose Press archive files.
To everyday heroes
who save lives in countless ways.
Chapter One
Surely Hell couldn’t be hotter than this. A wall of orange flames surrounded him, dared him to approach. The roar of the fire pounded between his ears as thick, black smoke strangled any attempts at taking a deep breath.
This is what death is
, Patrick thought.
It’s going to take us. Raina, Julianne. Mom, Dad. Me.
Still, he pushed through the angry blaze. Let it jab at his exposed skin as his sisters’ screams rose above the fire’s thunder. Getting to them was all he could think of, all that mattered. Twice, he had to pat out flames that jumped to his sweatpants and caught them on fire. He shielded his face with his bare arm and slammed his shoulder into the door of his sisters’ bedroom. Inside, they were cowered in the corner. Julianne held the quilt from her bed over Raina and was about to get under it herself when her gaze connected with her brother’s over the line of fire dividing the room.
“Get us out of here!” she screamed.
He didn’t see any way to get to them, but knew he couldn’t leave them. He grabbed Raina’s sweatshirt from the chair at her desk and wrapped it around his face. Before he could think about what he was doing, he ran into the inferno. Pain, instant and knife-sharp, tore through his skin, but he made it to Raina and Julianne. Broke the window above their hiding bodies. Boosted Raina out. Moved on to Julianne.
The explosion behind them knocked his body and Julianne’s into the wall beside the window. The last thing he heard was Julianne’s gurgled scream and the crumbling roof as the monster of heat swallowed them whole.
****
Patrick Barre woke with a choking gasp. “Shit.”
He wiped the sweat from his forehead and stretched out his long limbs. He stopped when the flesh on the left side of his chest and down to his thigh tightened. Its elasticity was gone, taken twenty years ago. He ran a finger over the jagged folds of skin as he exhaled a slow, even breath.
Man, he hated that dream. Made it seem as if it all happened just yesterday. The heat was right there. The pain. His sisters’ terror. His parents’ charred bodies. How was a guy supposed to forget when it could be relived whenever he closed his eyes?
Maybe he’d give up sleeping. Stay up around the clock. That’d do wonders for his attitude.
The phone beside the mattresses he was using as a bed rang into the silence as Midas, Patrick’s all black German Shepherd, jumped up next to him. Patrick pushed to sitting, gave Midas a vigorous scratching between the ears, and let the sheets cover the scars on his left thigh. The ones on his chest stared back at him in the mirror on the wall opposite the makeshift bed. He’d told his sister, Raina, it was a stupid spot for a mirror. He’d have to move it. Couldn’t wake up every morning looking at the mess he had become.
The phone rang two more times before Midas barked. Patrick reached over and picked it up.
“What took you so long?” Raina didn’t wait for him to speak. “First night in a new old house go all right?”
“I guess.” Patrick yawned and finger-combed his short, brown hair, scratched at the scant beard framing his jaw and lips.
“Were you sleeping?”
“That is what people do at this hour on a Sunday, Raina.”
“People who want to waste the day maybe, but not me and not you.”
“Why not me?” Patrick stretched out his legs again and considered staying in bed for the rest of his life. Only thoughts of the dream had him peeling back the sheets and rising from the mattresses. Midas hopped down and waited at the bedroom door, his long black tail swishing along the floor.
“Because you have a few boxes to unpack and a willing volunteer to help you,” Raina said. “I’m heading over with coffee and muffins so get your ass up.”
“My ass is up.”
“It wouldn’t have been if I didn’t call you.”
“Don’t be annoying.”
“I think what you mean to say is, ‘Thank you, all loving and perfect sister.’ Right?”
“Sure.”
Patrick pressed his feet to the cool wood floor and stood. He walked to the window in the bedroom he was using until he finished remodeling the master bedroom. Yawning, he peered out to the sprawling woods around the house. Lush and green from basking in the August sun, the trees offered a barrier between Patrick and the small Vermont town of Burnam. This fifty-acre plot of land was his sanctuary, and he had tons of ideas on how to make it his own version of Eden.
“What time are you coming?” he asked.
“Now. Put on some pants.”
Raina hung up, and Patrick cursed at her impulsiveness. It was the one thing he both loved and hated about his baby sister. She had convinced him to move to Vermont from Rhode Island and take a job at the local fire department with one fanciful suggestion. A good thing. She had urged him out of bed this morning with one pushy order. Not a good thing.
And now he had to dig out some pants.
****
Gini Claremont held her camera steady as a hummingbird hovered over a honeysuckle bloom. These little guys were tricky to capture on film, but she’d been stalking the bird for nearly thirty minutes now. No sense in giving up.
She waited until the bird was absorbed in collecting nectar. After brushing her honey blond hair out of her face, Gini focused the camera lens so the bird was sharp and clear. She snapped photos from every angle, then the bird darted off in search of something more interesting. Some of the pictures ought to be good enough to send to
Leaf
, a nature magazine she did freelance work for from time to time.
Something furry rubbed against Gini’s bare feet. She found Saber, her Maine Coon cat, weaving between her ankles. As Gini kneeled, Saber’s puffy, striped tail tickled her skin when he jumped into her lap, and his large paws kneaded the denim covering her thigh.
“I’ve got tons of pictures of you, Saber. Don’t be such a ham.” Gini scratched under the cat’s chin until his eyes became slits and a deep purr rumbled in his throat. He hopped down to the grass and stretched out all his limbs at once.
“That must have felt nice.” Gini stood and raised her hands above her head. She reached skyward with her palms while pressing her feet deeper into the grass. “Not as graceful as you, Saber, but I think it had the same effect.”
Gini turned toward the barn and put her camera on the shelf in the tack room. Moon, her all white Andalusian, poked her head out of the stall. It only took a minute for Nyx, Gini’s solid black Azteca, to do the same.
“Good morning, gals.” Gini opened both stalls, and the horses meandered out to sniff and nudge her. They hung around long enough to eat the carrots she offered, then both horses trotted to the lower field for some lazy Sunday grazing.
“Breakfast. A good idea. What do you say, Saber?”
Gini grabbed her camera and headed back to the rustic farmhouse that once belonged to her grandmother. It was home—safe haven—to her now. With fresh coats of paint, electrical improvements, and appliance upgrades, Gini had managed to keep the country charm of her grandmother’s decorating but add modern conveniences. In the kitchen now, she pulled open the stainless steel refrigerator and extracted a grapefruit. She sliced it in half, wrapped one half in plastic wrap, and returned that half to the refrigerator.
“When are they going to make grapefruits for one, Saber?”
As she cut the fruit into segments, Saber jumped up to the counter and tilted his head at her.
“Yes, I suppose I could have gotten a cat that ate grapefruit. Be better to have a man—a tall, sexy one—who ate grapefruit.”
Saber let out a loud meow and hopped off the counter. He sauntered away with his tail flicking back and forth in annoyance.
“Sorry,” Gini called, but the cat did not reappear. “So touchy. Maybe you
are
a human man, Saber.” She laughed at her own joke and finished her grapefruit half.