Page 6 of Beauty and the Bounty Hunter

As I made my way up the snow-covered steps of the porch, Harbor got out of the car and stood beside the driver side door. Damn it, I wanted him to stay. He had taken care of me when I had no other option, and I hadn’t realized how badly I craved that.

I had nothing inside this cabin. No family, likely no food. Who knew if there was even a bed?

Then again, I didn’t have anything outside this cabin, either. I couldn’t open a bank account. I couldn’t stay with my parents. Pete Dobbs had taken everything from me.

No, not everything. I had breath in my lungs. I had the cold air of home blowing ice crystals across my face. I had this key in my hand. I was going to figure it out.

I placed the key in the lock and turned. Or, tried to turn. It stuck on the rusted hinges, grinding and churning when I tried to rotate it. If I kept going, it would break off in the lock and then I would definitely be stranded.

Tears welled up in my eyes, but I swallowed them. Pete didn’t deserve it.

“Fuuuuuuuuck!” I screamed, kicking the base of the door hard enough to bruise my toes, even through my heavy winter boots. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!”

My breath heaving in my chest, I rested my face in my hands and sank into the snow. This was all so stupid. So fucking stupid. I had a litany of “if onlys” running through my brain and none of them were helpful.

Not for the first time and not for the last, I wished I had never met Pete Dobbs.

Footsteps crunched in the snow beside me. I glanced up through my tears and saw Harbor with a can of de-icer in his hand. He sprayed the lock a few times before re-inserting the key I’d dropped.

With a thunk, the door unlocked and swung open.

Harbor glanced down at me and extended a hand. “You’re all wet. Let me at least make you a fire. Then I’ll go.”

CHAPTER 5

Harbor

This was a bad idea. She was my bounty. I was meant to deliver her to the authorities, get my money, and go on my way. She was a criminal, after all.

Yet here I was, deceiving her like a giant fucking asshole simply because…I liked her. And it had been a long, long time since I’d liked anyone.

Still sitting in the snow, she closed her eyes, like she was either gathering her strength or preparing to tell me to fuck right off. Katrina had gorgeous eyes. They were dark brown with little flecks of light bronze in them. I wondered if they danced when she laughed. She looked like she hadn’t laughed in eons.

She took my hand and used it to pull herself upright. My skin ignited, and it took every ounce of willpower inside of me not to pull her against me.

I dropped her hand quickly, unwilling to let the temptation linger, and stepped into the cabin.

It was clear that there was no way she had already been staying here. The furniture was covered in drop cloths, and a fine layer of dust covered everything. I’d have to check the fireplace and make sure there wasn’t anything nesting in there before I even contemplated building a fire.

We were going to need one. It was freezing in that cabin. There was a thermostat on one wall, but it looked like it had been stuck at fifty degrees for the past twelve years.

“You can’t stay here,” I said automatically.

“You don’t get a say in what I do.” She crossed her arms over her chest, which only served to shove her breasts closer to the collar of her U-neck shirt. I tore my gaze away from her sweet, golden-skinned body and focused on more immediate problems, like the almost certain lack of running water.

To prove my point—and also not stare at her tits—I went to the sink at the corner of the studio-sized cabin and turned the faucet. Nothing came out of it. “Pipes are likely frozen. There’s no heat. You don’t have food.” I gestured to the single bed and the couch that looked like mice had chewed it. “You can’t stay here. Let me take you to a hotel.” On the road to Milwaukee, my professional brain whispered.

Then, holy hell, she removed her winter coat and all rational thought fled my brain. Katrina’s hourglass curves were model-worthy, her round breasts mountains beneath her thin tee shirt, her hips straining the fabric of her jeans.

This was bad. No, it was awful. Apocalyptic. My cock woke up from its chronically dormant state, and I focused all of my frustration and interest on this shitty excuse for a cabin, simply to avoid showing her my arousal.

“Let’s go.” I turned off the defunct faucet, not willing to look at her.

Katrina removed a dust cloth from the kitchen table and shook it in the air, sending dust mites flying. “It isn’t so bad.” She went to the wall beside the refrigerator and flipped the switch. A pale yellow light sparked over her head. She didn’t deserve that kind of shitty lighting. She deserved a lifetime of soft filters and crystal chandeliers. “The electricity works.” She opened the fridge, which was empty, then shut it again and turned to me. Her expression was one of fire and determination, and despite my best efforts, it only made my cock throb harder. “I have nowhere else to go. I don’t owe you anything. We’re strangers, but you can choose to trust me. So when I tell you that I will be fine here, you need to accept that. I don’t have a choice here.”

She would think it was strange if I didn’t ask, because what average person wouldn’t want more information? It didn’t mean I had to tell her about myself. “Can you tell me why?” I said, hoping my expression didn’t betray me. “I have to be honest, it won’t affect whether or not I want to help you, because I do regardless.”

She sighed and bit her lip, which was the complete wrong thing to do because now all I could picture was that lush mouth tangled with mine. I needed to focus on something else, so I went to the fireplace and opened the flue. Not that I had a ton of experiences inspecting fireplaces, but a nest didn’t fall on me, so I considered that a win.

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