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in this cabin, far from civilization.
    â€œDoes the cabin belong to your friend?” Penelope wiped her fingers on a napkin and fought the urge to reach for another muffin.
    â€œIt belongs to his uncle. Years ago they used it for hunting. They would bring out groups and rough it for a week. The uncle got sick and the cabin sat here empty, other than an occasional relative coming out for a few days to get away from it all.”
    â€œIt is definitely ‘away from it all.’” Penelope would have liked to share with Wilma Johnson that this wasn’t her first trip that landed her far from civilization. It wasn’t even close to being the most difficult place she’d ever stayed in.
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    Tucker headed down the trail, searching for more signs like the ones he’d seen earlier that morning. Penelope had been with them all of forty-eight hours and already she was bringing trouble their way. He wasn’t going to say anything to her, but he definitely wasn’t going to let her out of the house alone. Not that he’d have a lot of luck keeping her inside. Wilma had found an old wooden crutch in the attic.
    They’d had company during the night. And it hadn’t been the kind of company that knocked on the door. It had been the kind that sneaked around in the gloom, leaving boot prints in the snow and breaking branches off bushes as they pushed around in the dark. They were too far from civilization for that kind of company.
    For now, he’d keep his discovery between himself and Clark Johnson. But it proved his point that Penelope Lear was trouble.
    â€œHey, where you going?” A singsong voice called from behind him.
    Great, just what he needed. He considered going on, pretending he hadn’t heard. From what he knew of her, she’d just pick up speed and track him down. But she’d also probably find some way to get into trouble in the process. He stopped walking and turned around.
    There she was, his punishment for all the wrong things he’d ever done. She hobbled after him, smiling brightly. A stocking cap was pushed down on her head, framing her face. Every now and then the crutch under her arm tangled with roots or got caught on rocks. She’d hobble, nearly fall, and then right herself.
    It didn’t help matters that she was carrying a fishingpole in the other hand. Great. He didn’t have to guess what she was up to today. Yesterday she’d nearly smoked them out of the house in her attempt at fire-building in the fireplace. Today she was going to fish.
    Peace and quiet. That’s what he’d found out here until he’d dragged her out of the ravine two days ago. One moment, one second of weakness, and all of that peace and quiet was gone. Sucked out of the world. By this one female.
    If he could walk her out of here today, he would. It would save them all a lot of trouble. But if he took her out, it meant he’d be returning to the real world.
    He wasn’t ready to give up his time here.
    But how long could a guy stay lost in the wilderness, locked away from reality? He knew that this couldn’t last forever. Even the Johnsons knew that eventually they’d have to return to civilization. They’d all have to make some decisions about their futures.
    They discussed it last night, after Penelope had fallen to sleep. The Johnsons had talked about their son. He’d spoken about his dad. He still wasn’t talking about the devastating news he’d gotten from Seattle before he left Treasure Creek.
    He was still processing that. He was still trying to figure out how he had become this person, a man who no longer knew where he came from or where he was going.
    â€œWhat are you doing out here?” He waited until she was nearly next to him. “In those boots, and with a fishing pole?”
    The boots were ridiculous things, mostly fur and noreal sole. He shook his head and then looked up, meeting blue eyes that flashed