Without waiting for her answer, he strolled over to the kitchen area. He found the “Welcome-to-Rescue” bottle of wine Dante had gifted her with when she moved in and glasses in the cupboard.

After pouring them each a glass, he set the bottle on the end table and settled on the couch.

She blinked, not having expected him to sit beside her. Then again, no intelligent person would prefer the lumpy armchair where a spring was trying to push through the seat cushion.

But the police chief was close enough that his body heated her side.

She picked up her glass and took a hearty gulp. “What’s that word you keep calling me—chee-chah-ko?”

Glass in hand, he leaned back, stretching his legs out. Even sock-clad, his feet were masculine and strong. And sexy. That was just wrong. “Cheechako is what we call a newcomer to Alaska.”

“Oh.” That wasn’t so bad. At least it didn’t mean clumsy blonde or chronic liar.

“Is that a New York accent you have?”

“No, Chic—” She stopped, bit her tongue, and sighed. Way to get tricked into volunteering her city. “Chicago.”

“A real city girl, then.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Alaska must be terrifying at times.”

Most of the time, thank you very much. “I manage.” She stared at him. He’d known she was scared and stayed, and now he was actually…conversing. The chief of police had a protective nature, didn’t he?

“Good to know. Be aware, the lake draws a fair amount of wildlife.”

“Like bears?” Her voice tried to squeak.

“Yeah. Hibernation’s ended, so they’re hungry and cranky. Be watchful and give them space.”

“I intend to give them lots of space.” Bears. Beside her cabin. As uneasiness crept down her spine, she edged closer to him. “You can’t possibly know how alien this place seems.”

“Actually, I do know.” When she shivered, he put his arm around her shoulders.

She stiffened. Her entire side was pressed against his very hard, very large male body. Oh God, he had muscles all over. She swallowed and pretended she was comfortable. “How can you know? Dante said your father settled out here over thirty years ago. Mako…was that his name?”

“My father, hmm?” His arm was heavy, and his fingers traced circles on her upper arm.

Even though the coals in the woodstove barely glowed, the room seemed excessively toasty.

“I guess there’s no need to protect him from the law any longer.” His eyes filled with sorrow, and the lines beside his mouth deepened.

Dante had mentioned Mako died last fall. “I’m sorry, Gabe.”

“Yeah, me, too.” He shook his head as if to cast off the grief. “Mako rescued me and three other boys from a Los Angeles foster home and brought us here. Stole us, essentially. I was ten.”