Page 7 of Rescued by the Captain

“Roads… slick on the mountains. Women… damn fast. … Had to pull Aria out of the ditch last week. Probably whoever… tracks and called… in. We’ll have someone out there… to…. pull… out after the storm… send… off to Denver for forensics.”

“No, hold the car there! I can use my skills in forensics to help.”

Even through the static, I perceive Colt’s stony tone. “You’re not on… force.”

“Dammit Colt! Give me a chance.”

After a long pause, he sighs, “Fine. One chance. Might be… get more money for the force… if you do. I’ll check back…. have the vehicle… hear back from the rental company.”

I take that as my cue to sign off. Colt’s as stubborn as every person in the small town of Storm Canyon told me he is.

I retreat to the living room, finding that the brunette is holding something other than hot chocolate.

“What’re you doing?” I ask with a cocked eyebrow. I stroll up to the couch, where she has now sat herself upright. I’m glad to see she has a little more energy.

“Sudoku,” she says.

“Smart. I never could do those.”

A smirk pulls at the corner of her lips. “Come here. I’ll show you.”

I sit down next to her. Her thick thighs brush mine as I peer at the paper. “Do you like numbers?”

She shrugs. “They feel familiar. Maybe I did something with them?”

“Maybe.”

I spot a radio on the coffee table. I turn the dial, and country music starts playing.

“Ugh, I hate country music. Everyone’s dog’s dying and no one understands that you shouldn’t buy the boat until you pay off your house.”

I chuckle. “Smart advice. I have a boat… but no house. I rent.”

“You really should buy a house. It’s a great investment. Even I own a house. Wait… I do, but where?”

I silently mull over her statement. Maybe she did work a job that involves a lot of calculation.

Bria

Hunched over the Sudoku spread on my lap, Donte looks like a big bear. A pensive, big bear. Watching him brings amusement to my lips. Just as I finish explaining the rules, he slumps on the couch, as if he’s even more confused than before.

“Nope. Never gonna get it,” he exhales, shaking his head from side to side.

My smile grows wider. There’s something weirdly intriguing about tough-looking guys getting stumped over easy games.

I drum my fingers on the puzzle. “So have you always been in search and rescue.”

“No, military. Marines for twenty years. I was in forensics. Got my service outta the way before I turned thirty-eight.” He hesitates, appearing conflicted about his answer.

Is he not proud about his job history? Personally, I’d be happy to name even one reference on my resume, let alonebeing a part of the Marines. But I guess the whole amnesia baggage skews my perspective.

“Married?” I prod. I sweep my hair over one shoulder and catch his eyes flicking to my exposed neck.

“I was. She passed away five years ago.” He drops his gaze to the floor, and the friction grows between us. I can see why he’s cagey about his past.

“I’m sorry.”

His jaw clenches. “So am I. Keep asking me questions.”

---