Page 16 of Beauty and the Bounty Hunter

We heated water with a cast-iron kettle over the fire and made packets of oatmeal. Harbor made coffee and hot chocolate from a powdered mix, then fixed me another bootleg mocha. As I sipped it, I thought about talking to Laura Marshall at Sweet and Salty. She should put this drink on the menu and call it a Harbor Special.

That existed in the dream land of possibility known as “If Katrina Doesn’t Go to Jail.”

I didn’t want to think about that.

For hours, we played gin rummy with an old deck of cards we found in one of the kitchen drawers. We went outside and made snow angels that then devolved into a snowball fight. Which, because it made both of us soaking wet and laughing, sent us running back into the house in front of the fireplace.

Body heat really did work well.

As much as I realized that this was not my real life, not my real responsibilities, I never wanted to leave. Harbor brought out this playful, wicked, sexy side of me that I hadn’t even known I missed, and I never wanted to forget her. And him? Behind the gruff exterior, he was passionate and generous and caring and—

Oh fuck, I was falling in love with him.

Later that afternoon, when he and I were napping lazily in bed, me curled up on his chest, Harbor said, “I talked to a friend of mine who’s a lawyer. I sent her the video images and your file. She’s going to take a look at it.”

I nestled into his neck, kissing the scar from the pipe bomb. One day I hoped he would tell me all his stories. “Thank you so much. I don’t think I’ll ever repay you.”

“You don’t need to repay me.” He kissed the top of my head, and it sent ribbons of pleasure all through me. “I’m glad I met you.”

“Ditto.” I readjusted my position so I could kiss his wonderful mouth. He tasted like sweet coffee and the sugary pastries we’d snacked on. He leaned into it, like he could never get enough of me.

Until he sat straight up, pressing me up into a sitting position. “Do you hear that?”

All I heard was his heart beat racing in his chest. “No. What’s wrong?”

He was out of bed in a flash, pulling on the pants he’d dropped on the floor. “Stay down.”

Then I heard it, too. A growling outside the door, a sound very familiar to me growing up in Wisconsin. A snowmobile.

That could mean only one thing. Someone had found us, had found me.

In a flash, I was out of bed, too, pulling on the flannel pajamas Harbor had bought me. “What do we do?” I asked.

“Stay down,” he repeated. He reached into his bag and pulled out a handgun. My heartbeat sped up.

It should have occurred to me that he had a gun. He was a private investigator, a bounty hunter. Still, seeing that cold steel in the hands of the man who had just run those hands all over me was jarring.

What if he got hurt one day? What had he done in the Army to earn those scars, that self doubt? What exactly did I think I was doing, letting him take care of me? Letting him into my body?

He stood by the window, standing to the side of the sill. “Keep back and keep your head down.” He glanced around the room. “On second thought, go to the bathroom and lock the door. You’ll be safe in there.”

“I don’t want to leave you.” This was true in so many senses of the phrase.

He turned toward me, his expression pleading. “Please. I want you to be safe. Please.”

It broke my heart, but I would do whatever he asked.

CHAPTER 15

Harbor

I waited until she was safely enclosed in the bathroom, then I knelt beside the front door. I was prepared to wait all day to protect her, to keep her safe, to bring her asshole ex to justice.

Did I want her to see what I needed to do? No. Absolutely not. For a heartbeat in time, I lived out a fantasy where the woman I loved didn’t know the violence coiled inside of me.

I wanted one more heartbeat where she could love me.

Apart from the crackling of the fire, the rest of the cabin was silent, which was excellent for being able to hear the intruder’s footsteps crunching in the snow.

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