Alaskan Sanctuary

Half an hour later, after breaking as few traffic laws as possible, he plunked two cups of Gold Rush blend down on Lou Marshall’s desk and pushed one toward his boss. “Morning. You said we needed to talk?”

Lou took a gulp of coffee and nodded. “Yes. Have you seen the paper yet this morning?”

“No. I just got here.” He frowned at the copy of the Yukon Reporter early edition in Lou’s hands and remembered Sam’s line of questioning at the coffee bar. “Has there been a new development in the wolf story?”

“You could say that.” Lou tossed the newspaper at him.

Ethan caught it with one hand.

He died a thousand deaths in the handful of seconds it took for him to find the “development” that Lou had referred to. A thousand deaths in which he imagined every potential tragedy, every conceivable fatal accident that could have taken place. Escaped wolves. Wounded people.

Not her. God, please. Not her.

The hasty prayer caught him nearly as off guard as Piper’s letter to the editor on page three. Ethan couldn’t remember the last time he’d prayed. Actually, he could. It had been on a cold Denali night five years ago when the world had fallen apart. He’d screamed to the heavens that night as he’d tried in vain to put it back together, mistakenly believing that there was a God somewhere up there who listened. Who cared.

He stared at the letter, and the panic that had caught him in its grip morphed into irritation. Piper hadn’t been hurt. She was perfectly fine. So fine that she’d been busy writing a letter to his boss. And Lou had printed it in the paper.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Ethan muttered, scanning the contents as quickly as his gaze could move over the page, catching glimpses of words such as yellow journalism, unfair reporting and retraction.

Blood boiling, he wadded the paper into a ball and pitched it into the trash. Retraction? She wanted him to take his words back? Out of the question. “If you’ve called me in here to demand that I print a retraction, you’re wasting your breath. I won’t do it.”

“I wouldn’t dream of making such a demand.” A smile creased Lou’s face and he calmly raised his coffee cup to his mouth again.

Then what was Ethan doing here? He was almost afraid to ask.

As it turned out, he had reason to be afraid. “On the contrary, I want you to write whatever you like about Ms. Quinn and her wolves. Repeatedly. The paper is sold out all over the state. This wolf thing is moving papers faster than we can print them. I want you to keep writing about the wolves, provided you do so on location.”

Ethan froze while reaching for his coffee. “On location?”

“Yes. On location. I’ve already arranged everything. You’re to spend the next two weeks volunteering at the Aurora Wolf and Wildlife Center alongside Ms. Quinn. You’ll document the experience in a daily diary that will run on the front page of the Yukon Reporter.” Lou slung back the final dregs of his coffee. “It’s genius, don’t you think?”

Volunteer at the wolf sanctuary? For two weeks? With wolves?

With Piper?

Ethan had plenty of thoughts on the idea. Genius was nowhere on the list.

“No.” His temples throbbed harder. The notion of facing Piper after the things he’d written about her—not to mention the things that she’d written about him—was enough to give him an aneurysm. “Just...no.”

“You heard me say that your daily diary will run on the front page, right?” Lou waggled his eyebrows.

“Why? I’ve been asking you for a spot on the front page for months.” That was an understatement. He was certain it had been a regular topic of conversation for the better part of a year. “Why now? Why this?”

“Because the readers are eating it up.” Lou threw up his hands and laughed. “Since her response to your op-ed came out this morning, the phone hasn’t stopped ringing. People love it. You and Piper Quinn are all that anyone in Alaska can talk about.”

This cannot be happening. Ethan was supposed to write the article. Piper was supposed to close her doors, and that would be the end of it.

He should have known she wouldn’t give up this easily.

He breathed out a sigh. “But I don’t want people talking about Piper and me. Not in the same breath, anyway.”

“Too late. Just do a Google search of yourself. The first two screens are chock-full of results about the war of words between you and the wolf woman.”

A Google search? “No, thank you.”

Lou shrugged. “Suit yourself, but get packing. I’ve already made a reservation for you at the Northern Lights Inn. That way, you can spend as much time as possible on the property.”

At least he’d be in close proximity to great coffee. If he agreed to this nonsensical plan, which he wouldn’t.

He shook his head. “No.”

“The front page, Ethan. It’s all yours. Every day, for fourteen days straight.” Lou tapped a finger on the newspaper that lay on the desk between them.

The front page.

For two solid weeks.

If that didn’t get the attention of The Seattle Tribune, nothing would. It was a reporter’s dream. His dream.

Then why did it feel so much like a nightmare? “Where on the front page?”

“Bottom right-hand corner. Twenty inches of space per day.”

“Above the fold. Twenty-five inches.” If Ethan was going to agree to this nonsense, he would make sure it was worth his while.

“Deal.” Lou slapped his hand on the desk in triumph. The coffee cups jumped in time with the throbbing of Ethan’s headache. “You’d better get packing. The clock is ticking. Your first diary entry is due no later than midnight tonight. Ms. Quinn is expecting you.”

Piper was expecting him.

What have I done?

“Get cracking, son.” Lou shooed Ethan out of his office. “And don’t look so worried. This is going to be the highlight of your career. Think of it as being embedded, like a reporter in a combat zone.”

A reporter in a combat zone.

Why did Ethan get the feeling that the comparison wasn’t too far off the mark?

* * *

Piper was ready and waiting when she heard the tires of Ethan’s SUV roll up the sanctuary’s snow-covered drive. She closed the field notebook where she recorded daily observations about each wolf’s behavior patterns, climbed down from the large flat boulder overlooking the property and was standing, arms crossed, toe tapping, by the time her nemesis-turned-volunteer climbed out of his car.

“You’re late,” she said by way of greeting. She wasn’t wasting her time with marshmallows and small talk this time. A fat lot of good that had done.

“Piper.” He nodded. “We meet again.”

He looked as stone-faced as ever, which pretty much confirmed that he hadn’t lost one minute of sleep over the hurtful things he’d written about her. Not just her, but the wolves, the sanctuary, her goals and dreams. Basically, everything she held near and dear.

Unbelievable.