“You found our private channel.” Her hotshot’s rough, smoky voice flooded the airwaves and the small lookout cabin. Too big for the 14×14 space, his sinful Cajun accent had Hannah imagining long bayou nights.
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Her fingers slipped from the dial.
“That’s good.” His familiar, low rumble reached her clearly despite the fifty-odd miles between them. “I’d hate to think I was the only one countin’ down the hours.”
Oh, she liked that. Cole Henry, waiting for nightfall and her. Some days, the days when the Big Bear Rogues got called out into the field on fire duty, ten o’clock came and went without hearing his voice. He stood her up those nights, but so far he’d always come back.
He didn’t apologize, though. Her Cajun was too matter-of-fact; he’d told her the fi
