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as the afternoon had lengthened into a long summer twilight. The house was surrounded by spruce and a few firs, and he’d spent a good bit of time observing a couple of squirrels arguing in the branches, their loud complaining broken only by the rush of the river nearby.

Still, he’d hoped she’d have come back earlier from wherever it was she’d been because he had a feeling she wasn’t going to like what he was here to say and generally people handled unpleasant things better in the middle of the day rather than at the tail end of it.

Couldn’t be helped, though, and he wasn’t going to go away and come back later to have this discussion.

Already he’d waited too long.

Morgan frowned, apparently unbothered by the unexpected appearance of a man she’d only met once and in very trying circumstances.

“What do you mean you could ask me the same thing?” she said. “I’ve been at work. What do you think I’ve been doing?”

Not a woman who was easily ruffled, obviously.

But then Cal had mentioned to him on more than one occasion that she was competent, professional, and tough. Not to mention that she was also a Village Safety Protection Officer, the rural equivalent of an Alaskan State Trooper, so she wasn’t likely to be a pushover.

All of which could prove problematic considering the reason he was here.

Zeke eyed her. “You remembered my name,” he said.

“Kind of hard to forget when some big, bearded mountain man approaches you out of the blue at your brother’s funeral and tells you to call him if you need anything.” Morgan’s bright blue gaze did not even so much as flicker. “And then forgets to leave you his number.”

She’d leaned the bike she’d ridden down the driveway against the porch, and the late-afternoon sunlight crept across the green lawn that surrounded the Wests’ sturdy, two-story house. It was mostly in good repair, but he hadn’t only been watching squirrels. He’d also used part of the waiting time to have a look around the place, and there were a number of things that needed doing.

Take care of Morgan, the letter he’d received after the reading of Cal’s will had said. Once I’m gone, she’ll have no one.

It wasn’t exactly what Zeke had wanted to hear, but since he felt partly responsible for Cal’s death, he owed the guy big-time.

Stupid of him to forget giving her his number at the funeral, but he hadn’t been thinking straight. He wasn’t the best at dealing with people on a good day, let alone a bad one.

“So I did,” he said. “Well, you don’t need it now. I’m right here.”

“Uh-huh.” Morgan’s stare narrowed. “So, are you going to tell me why you’re on my front porch? When your two friends, who’ve been looking for you for weeks, are back in the Happy Moose?”

Zeke had arrived in Deep River, the tiny, quirky, little Alaskan town he and his two best friends had inherited after Caleb’s death, a couple of nights earlier. He’d made a camp for himself in a clearing in the bush just out of town—he’d preferred a bedroll to staying in a hotel since he always slept better on the ground. And yeah, he should have announced himself to Silas and Damon, the ex-army buddies that Morgan was talking about, but he wasn’t a man who charged into a situation without doing a bit of reconnaissance first.

Which was what he’d been doing. Reconnaissance. Of Deep River itself. Again, he was a man who took his time and didn’t like to rush into things. Especially given that oil reserves had been discovered underneath the town and he knew for a fact that those oil reserves were of interest to…certain people.

People connected with him.

Luckily, though, he’d handled that issue, so now the only things he had left to do were finish up his mission for Cal and then go see his friends.

He’d figured that finishing up his mission for Cal and taking care of Cal’s little sister was more pressing than seeing his friends, so here he was.

Zeke dismissed the question of said friends for the moment. “I’ll see them later. In the meantime, I’m here to make sure you’re looked after.”

Surprise rippled over Morgan’s pretty face. “Make sure I’m looked after?” she echoed. “Why would I need looking after?”

He shrugged. “Your brother asked me to.”

Morgan’s arms dropped. “Oh. How wonderful.” She didn’t sound as if she thought it was wonderful. She sounded extremely irritated.

“I appreciate it,” Morgan was saying, “but as you can see, I’m pretty good right now and I’ve been pretty good for a number of years, both with and without Caleb.”

Her response did not surprise Zeke. Cal had mentioned in his letter that his relationship with Morgan was a fraught one and that she wouldn’t appreciate someone muscling in on her territory, especially if she knew that Cal had ordered Zeke to.

Of course, Zeke could have just not told her that part of it, but he wasn’t a liar and he didn’t play games. He was straight up, and that’s the way he preferred everyone else to be too.

He eyed her. She did look pretty good, he had to admit, and in more ways than one. And it was also clear that she was annoyed about her brother. Then again, it had been his experience that people said one thing while meaning something else, so he could never take anything at face value.

“You are, huh?” he said.

“Yes.” She eyed him right back. “So you can consider your job done.”

At Cal’s funeral and afterward, at the crappy bar they’d gone to, she hadn’t seemed that great. She’d seemed small and vulnerable and folded in on herself with grief, which was why he’d offered to help her out.

To be fair, though, that had been a couple of months ago. Now it seemed as if the worst of that grief was over, and he couldn’t imagine a woman more competent and able to handle herself.

She was a West, like Cal,

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