But instead of crossing the road, he walked to the driver’s window. “I need a ride to TarStone Mountain Ski Resort,” he said when the driver rolled down his window. He gestured toward the sled. “My wife is injured. Could you please give us a lift?”

The man put the truck in park and got out, only nearly to trip over Luke’s snowshoes. “Sure,” he said, going to the sled and pushing Max out of the way to fold back the tarp. He suddenly reared upright. “Hell, that’s Camry MacKeage,” he said, spinning back toward Luke. “You say she’s your wife?”

Luke tossed his snowshoes into the bed of the truck and walked over and pulled the tarp completely off. “You got a problem with that?” he asked, lifting Tigger out of her jacket and shoving the dog into the man’s arms.

The man grinned. “No, sir. But I certainly do wish you luck.” He nodded toward the sled. “Camry wrenched my brother’s knee during a brawl at my bar about six months ago.” After shifting Tigger to one arm, he held out his hand. “Pete Johnson.”

Luke shook his hand. “Luke Renoir. So, Pete, does that mean you’re not going to give us a lift?”

“Oh, jeez, no,” he said with a laugh. “My brother deserved both the wrenched knee and the scathing lecture I gave him once he sobered up. Come on,” he said, opening the back door of the crew cab to set Tigger inside. He motioned for Max to jump in, then walked back to the sled. “Jeez, she must be hurt bad if she’s not waking up,” he said, just as Luke straightened with Camry in his arms. “Hold your damn horses!” he shouted at the car behind them when the driver honked his horn. He rushed around to open the passenger’s-side door. “What’s the matter with her?”

“She has a broken ankle and maybe a couple of cracked ribs,” Luke told him, gently setting Camry on the seat and sliding her to the middle. He crawled in beside her, then tucked her under his arm and laid her bundled right leg over his own. “Could you just pull the sled to the sidewalk? I’ll come back and pick it up later.”

Pete closed the door, ran to the sled, picked it up, and tossed it in the bed of his truck, then climbed in behind the wheel. “If she’s got a broken ankle, I better drive you to the hospital in Greenville,” he said, putting the truck in gear.

“No, I need to get her home before she goes into total shock. She has an aunt there who’s a trauma specialist, who can help her while we call for an ambulance.”

“Libby MacBain,” Pete said. “I know her, and yeah, that’s probably a good idea. Doc Libby’s kept more than one person alive while waiting for an ambulance.” He glanced over at Luke, then back at the road. “What happened? Was it a snowmobile accident or something? You look like you’ve been walking awhile.”

“Avalanche,” Luke said, setting his finger over Camry’s pulse, sighing in relief when he felt it beating steady and strong.

“An avalanche? That’s rare in these parts. Where’d it happen?”

“Just south of Springy Mountain.”

Pete glanced over at him in surprise. “You hauled her all the way here in that makeshift sled? Down the lake?” He looked back at the road, shaking his head. “You either got more balls than brains, or one hell of a guardian angel.” He glanced at Luke again. “The lake ain’t frozen over in places, you know.”

“Apparently the last six miles of it are.”

Pete turned onto the TarStone Mountain Ski Resort road. “What’s up with the funny hat?” he asked.

Luke settled it farther down on Camry’s head. “It’s a birthday gift from a relative.”

“Oh yeah, that’s right. Today’s the MacKeage girls’ birthday.” He snorted. “Hell of a way for a woman to spend her birthday.” He glanced at Luke again. “Talk in town when Camry was here last summer was that she didn’t even have a boyfriend. How long you two been married?”

“A couple of days.”

Pete chuckled humorlessly. “Hell of a way to spend a honeymoon, too. But I suppose honeymooning in the mountains in the middle of the winter, instead of on some warm beach in the Caribbean, ain’t all that far-fetched for Camry.” He turned off the road just as the resort came into sight, and pulled up into the driveway of Gù Brath. He stopped in front of the bridge leading to the front door, then shut off the truck with a sigh as he looked directly at Luke. “The MacKeages are pillars of the community, but they’re . . . um . . . a bit on the strange side. They’re a tight-knit clan, along with the MacBains.” He opened his door, then shot Luke a grin. “I had a thing for Cam’s older sister Heather when we were in high school, but her daddy scared the bejeezus out of me so bad, I never dared to ask her out. You need help getting Cam inside?” he asked, glancing at the well-lit house.

“No, I’ve got her,” Luke said, opening his door. “If you can just bring the dogs.”

“I’ll let them out, and they can follow you in.” He glanced at the house again, and Luke would have sworn the man shivered. “I got to get down to my bar. We open at five, and the staff is waiting for me.”

Luke stilled just as he was getting ready to get out, and lifted his wrist.

Holy hell, his watch said four fifteen!

A vehicle pulled up behind them, doors opened and closed, and a man and woman walked up to Luke’s side of the truck and peered in his open door.

“Oh my God, Camry!” gasped the woman holding the young toddler. “Robbie, take her. She’s hurt.”

“No, I’ve got her,” Luke said, carefully sliding out of the truck with Camry in his arms, then shouldering past the tall man. “Thanks for your help, Pete,” he called out as he strode onto the bridge. “I’ll catch up with you later.”

The man named Robbie rushed ahead and opened the door.

“Could you make sure the dogs come in?” Luke asked, stepping inside the foyer, the sounds of voices and playing children assaulting his senses. He stopped and looked around, blinking against the blast of hot air that made his eyes water, and even stepped back when several people rushed up to him.

“Camry!” someone cried. “Mom! Dad! Camry’s here, and she’s hurt!”

Another man stepped forward and reached out to take her, but Luke took another step back. “No, I’ve got her. Is her aunt Libby here?”

“Libby’s my mother,” Robbie said from behind him, placing a hand on Luke’s back and guiding him toward the living room. “She should be here soon. Why don’t you lay Cam down on the couch?”

Luke walked into the living room, but instead of laying her down, he sat with Camry in his arms, then carefully stretched her right leg out on the couch beside him.

“What’s wrong with her?” asked one of the women.

“She has a broken ankle and maybe some cracked ribs.” Luke unzipped her jacket, but quickly reached out when the woman tried to take off Camry’s hat. “No, that stays on until Libby MacBain gets here.”

The sea of people crowding around them suddenly parted. “Camry!” Grace cried, dropping to her knees in front of Luke. She touched Camry’s cheek, then looked up and smiled at Luke, her eyes shining with tears. “You brought her home,” she whispered, reaching up and touching his beard. “Th-thank you.”

Greylen MacKeage edged past his wife and reached out as if he intended to take Camry into his arms. Luke pulled her against him. “No, I’ve got her.”

“She’s hurt,” Greylen growled.

“Leave her, Grey,” Grace said gently, caressing Camry’s cheek again. “She’s in very good hands, and she’s going to be okay.”

“What happened?” Grey asked, kneeling beside his wife and touching Camry’s cheek himself. He glared at Luke. “Did ye crash the snowcat? Why won’t she wake up? Does she have a concussion?” he asked, reaching to remove her hat.

Luke held it in place. “It stays on until her aunt gets here,” he repeated. “And we got caught in a small avalanche, and her ankle is shattered. Libby MacBain will heal her,” he said, somewhat defiantly.

Greylen snapped his gaze to Luke in surprise. “Ye know,” he whispered.