Page 4 of Some Like It Hot
To the blood and screams and weeping.
Except maybe she could still resurrect this evening. Riley hadn’t exactly turned down her offer to take a look at his shoulder. He sat behind her, his hands on her hips, her body nestled into the pocket of his legs, leaning with her as she drove her brother’s bike along the dirt road that led back to Sky King ranch.
Dodge would be so furious with her if he knew she’d taken out his Triumph Tiger to lure home a man. But Dodge and her other two bossy younger brothers weren’t here to give her grief, thank you, and truth was, if they were, well maybe she wouldn’t be trapped here, helping her dad keep the bush flight service open.
She was sick of catering to fishermen and hunters, cleaning cabins, fish, and making beer runs for wealthy sportsmen from the Lower 48. She had her own dreams, her own life, her own…
Okay, fears.
Not tonight. She gunned the bike as they neared the ranch nestled in the pocket of the foothills of Denali. A red-hued sun hung just over the white-capped granite mountains, dragging blood-red shadows across the lake that edged their property, over one hundred acres of prime Alaska real estate. And the Kingston family’s hand-built log cabin sat in the middle of it, an expansive lodge with a two-story great room window that faced the national forest and all its glory to the north.
Okay, it might be a view she never tired of. A view that had called her home in a weak moment.
She drove past the house. Her father’s truck sat in the drive, and beyond that, in the grass strip behind the house, was parked the bright yellow DHC-3 Otter, the back seats removed for the jump crew.
A few of the smokejumpers her father had agreed to house sat on the deck of the lodge. The only woman, Skye, sat staring out at the sunset, looking a little shell shocked.
Larke recognized the look.
Tiny cabins nestled near the lake, where the floatplane bobbed, tied to the dock.
She slowed, then followed the rutted road that led down the ridge and around to the far western edge of the lake.
The original homestead was now her private cabin.
It sat below the ridge in a pocket of land rimmed by the lake to the east and a pine forest to the north.
Just far enough away to be on her own, close enough to feel safe.
She pulled up near the tiny barn next to the homestead that housed her truck, then propped up the bike as Riley got off.
After stowing their helmets in the seat, she held out her hand.
He grinned at her and slid his into hers. Big. Warm. Calloused.
She headed down the path toward the house.
“Where are we going?” Riley asked.
She debated a moment and wondered if she had the courage to…
Nope, probably not. “To watch the sunset,” she said. “But I’m going to get you some ice first.”
His hand tightened in hers. “I don’t need ice,” he said, a little husk to his voice.
She laughed, and it sounded nervous.
Perfect.
And shoot, Riley must have noticed because he slowed his steps all the way to a stop. Turned to her. “You okay?”
Aw. She forced a smile but had to look away from those brown eyes.
Oh, she knew how to pick them—always the kind who could peel away her pretense and now…was she crying?
Good freakin’ grief. She took a breath and tore her hand from his. “Let’s get that ice.”
She practically ran down to her cabin, Riley’s steps fast, then slowing behind her.