Page 33 of Some Like It Hot

She’d slept hard, for at least five hours. Again.

In Riley’s amazing, strong, safe arms.

Oh, yes, she was in big trouble. Because for the first time, she wanted to figure out how to make it back inside the fence.

Maybe start over again. As her father would say, turn the page.

Riley looked at his cell phone again.

“Did you get ahold of Tucker?”

He shook his head. “And the guys are on a sat radio, so I can’t check in with them, either.” He leaned his head back on the seat. “See the different colors of the smoke? The gray is long burning, less hot ground cover and debris. The black is what we need to worry about. It’s from hot, fresh fire, moving fast and growing.”

He was referring to the mushroom cover of haze that shadowed the park, blurring the mountains and turning the sunshine blood red. She could barely make out the Denali range for the boil of smoke above the lush green foothills.

“You don’t think it could reach the ranch, do you?”

He shrugged, just the one shoulder—the other still encased in the sling. She’d helped him remove it to put his T-shirt on and gotten a glimpse of the ripped core that he’d developed as a firefighter. That and a few scars. He’d given her a funny, almost childish look as she helped him on with his shirt, tugging it up his arm, then over his head, and onto his other arm. She wanted to remind him that she was a medic, that she’d seen men’s bodies before.

Except, she hadn’t harbored medic-type thoughts as she pulled the T-shirt down over his abs, so she’d kept her mouth shut, her face just a little hot.

“I think anything can happen with fire,” he said quietly, and she appreciated the straight answer. “We do our best to plan the most effective attack, but winds can shift, and fire doesn’t always behave, and suddenly you can find yourself in over your head.”

She nodded.

“The smartest thing you can do is know where your safety zones are and try and stay ahead of trouble.”

Now hesoundedlike Freeman. Be prepared at all times, expect the worst.

But what if trouble found you?

Took you down and left you broken?

“Who is this woman in labor?” Riley asked.

“Just a patient. She lives off the grid with her husband. He’s in jail right now—I don’t know much about it. I checked on her yesterday, and she was tired but not having any contractions. She’s not due for over a week, so it might not be anything, but—”

“Better to check,” he said.

She made a noise of assent.

“What does he look like?”

She glanced at Riley. “Who?”

“Her husband, the prisoner.”

“Uh, I’ve only met him once. He’s a trucker—red hair, sort of pudgy. Nice guy, I think. I’m not sure why he’s in jail.”

Riley was looking at her, something of horror in his eyes.

“What?”

“It’s just—there was a guy who could have been him on the hand crew. He took off with the others.”

“Darryl is one of the fugitives?”

“Could be. Tucker didn’t introduce them to us. They just showed up and started working.”