Page 43 of Some Like It Hot

“Calm down, Larke. I’m just causing trouble.”

She eased around the pothole. “You promised to keep me out of trouble.”

His smile fell. Oh, not the right thing to say. “You’re right.”

“Hey.” She touched his arm. “I’m kidding, too.”

“No, you’re right. My gut told me something wasn’t right about the place. I should have listened.”

“He took us by surprise. You couldn’t have known.”

His mouth tightened.

Silence, as the forest began to thin around them, and ahead Larke could make out the Starr family homestead.

Once upon a time it had started as a handcrafted, two-room cabin in the woods.

Not unlike her own home. In fact, her grandmother had helped birth many of the Starr children, including Orion.

Now, after years of upgrades, generations of Starrs had turned the house into a two-story, timber-framed house with a wraparound front porch, a loft, a beautiful great room, and a view of Denali.

“I might not have known, but seeing his hands on you, seeing him hit you—” Riley drew in a shaky breath. “Yes, I know you can handle yourself, Larke. But I can’t handle watching someone hurt you. I won’t. And if that means throwing my body over yours, well, get used to it.”

A muscle flickered in his jaw, his beautiful eyes on hers.

Oh.

And at that moment, she hadn’t a hope of not falling for him.

No.No…

Orion pulled his Ranger up to a massive barn. She parked beside him and glanced at Riley. “Let’s get you bandaged up, then—”

Orion opened her door. “Come inside. And bring your medical kit.”

She glanced at Riley, who was already reaching for the door.

She circled around the truck to the back to get her medic bag. Riley made to reach for it, but she gave him such a look he simply raised his hand in surrender.

Orion had already headed toward the house.

She hiked up the steps, following him, Riley behind her.

Orion pushed open the door, and she stepped inside.

His medical emergency lay on his leather sofa on a blanket, a wad of towels pressed to his bloodied shoulder. The blood saturated his orange shirt, even the green pants, and he looked bruised and beaten up, his face sooty, his short brown hair matted, and even from here, the odor of fire and blood radiated off him. He looked at her with pale blue eyes, cut a glance at Orion, and then his gaze fixed on Riley.

And instantly Larke knew something was wrong. Not just because of the tightening around the man’s eyes. Riley simply freaked out. He’d clearly meant every single word he’d uttered in the truck, injury or not, because he grabbed her, jerking her hard behind him and pulled out a gun—where did he get that?—and pointed it at the man on the sofa.

“Stay back, dude!”

He flashed the gun at Orion, who raised his hands. “Easy there, pal.”

Then he turned the gun back at the man on the sofa. “I don’t know what game you’re playing, but it’s over.”

“Riley!” Larke said, trying to push past him.

But for a wounded man, he had a steel grip on her, his injured arm just barely shaking as he held her firm. “Stay there, Larke.” He glanced at her. “This man is named Logan Thorne. And he’s a fugitive from the law.”