Page 76 of High Intensity

“Sure, I’ll finish it off if you don’t want it.”

I pile the rest of the food on his plate and turn to the sink to run hot water in the pan. Always better to clean right away before food residue hardens on the cast iron surface.

“Hey, you cooked; I’ll do dishes,” Wolff announces.

“I’m just doing this pan.”

This is the way it’s been since we got here; easy, relaxed, and uncomplicated. I fully expected to spend some time cleaning up, given that blood was spilled, and an army of FBI agents went through the place. However, someone beat me to it and the house was spotless. The company that cleaned it left their calling card on the kitchen island.

Wolff denied it was him, and he seemed genuinely surprised, so I’m inclined to believe him. Which leaves Sloane, who hasn’t yet returned my message on the subject. In all fairness, she may be a bit preoccupied with the latest addition to her growing family, but I’ll get the truth out of her at some point.

With cleanup taken care of, that left me to put away the dog stuff and my clothes, run a load of laundry, and hit up the grocery store to restock my fridge. The rest of the weekend was spent relaxing, taking the dogs for long walks and putting them through their paces, and most importantly, getting to know each other better, in every sense of the word.

He isn’t a natural talker, but he opened up a bit, and the more I learn about Lucas Wolff, the more I like him. In a lot of ways, he’s what you would expect of a federal agent, with a clear focus on justice, strong discipline, and an inherent desire to abide by the rules. The big difference with Wolff is his moral compass proved to be stronger than his willingness to toe the Bureau line at all cost.

The man is back to work today, heading to the ranch shortly, which is why I got up at five thirty to get breakfast going. A large part of me would really like him to come back tonight, but it may not be a bad thing to create a little breathing room. Things have been moving fast enough, and perhaps slowing it down a bit will give us a chance to get a handle on where this seems to be heading.

I end up tidying up a bit, putting stuff back in the fridge, rinsing out the coffeepot, and cleaning off the counter. I’m aboutto tackle the stove when Wolff comes up behind me and reaches around to snatch the sponge from my hand.

“That’s my job,” he mumbles, his lips brushing the shell of my ear and sending the tiniest of shivers down my spine.

“Fine. I’ll get cleaned up.”

When I return to the kitchen after brushing my teeth and throwing on some clothes so I can take the dogs out for a run, I catch Wolff on his phone. His eyes meet mine.

“If you wouldn’t mind loading up Judge for me. I’ll be there in ten.”

He ends his call and slips his phone in his pocket.

“You have to go.”

“Yeah. Jonas got a call from the ranger station in Libby. We’ve got a few hikers missing up on Sheldon Mountain. They were winter camping at the trailhead, going for day hikes, and were supposed to report in to the ranger yesterday, but never did.”

“That doesn’t sound good. It was cold out last night too.”

He steps up and slides his hands over my hips to the small of my back.

“Which is why we’re hustling this morning.” He bends his head for a kiss. “I’ll be in touch, and if you need anything, call the ranch.”

I grin at him. “How ever did I manage without you for thirty-nine years?”

“Smart-ass.”

Another hard kiss later, and I’m watching him walk out the door.

Then I turn to the living room where the dogs are sprawled all over the floor and the furniture.

“All right, guys…who wants to come with me?”

I take them for a nice, long walk. The gang is happy to be off leash, with full freedom to explore. At the ranch their freemovement had been limited to the corral, mostly for their own safety. They’re not really used to being around horses and could easily get trampled.

Of course, I end up carrying Nugget most of the way, but he enjoys these walks as much as the others; whether it be under his own steam, or mine. It does mean by the time we reach my backyard and I put him down, my arms feel like lead. Not just a good workout for the dogs, but me as well.

As soon as I unlock and start opening the back door, the dogs force their way inside and head straight to the front door, barking.

“Guys! Quiet!”

I wrestle my way through the dogs to get to the door and check the peephole. Coming up the steps are Special Agent Bellinger and a man I don’t recognize. I’m not a fan of Bellinger and curse myself I yelled at the dogs earlier, now I can’t pretend no one’s home.

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