Page 18 of Shielded Hearts

He threw her a look. “When was the last time anybody checked out this place? There could be a family of raccoons living inside.”

She let out a small squeak and jumped behind him.

His chest rumbled in a silent chuckle as he located the key she told him was hidden under the moldy mat and opened the door. Feeling along the wall, he located a switch and flipped it on.

“At least there’s electricity.”

Her soft sigh of relief sounded behind him. “It feels warmer in here. The heat’s running.”

Colt explored the front room, head swinging right and left.

“You’re not looking for raccoons, are you?”

He paused, throwing out his hearing. “Do you hear something beeping?”

Their gazes met as they both listened hard.

He took off into the bedroom. A quick sweep of the space showed a bed that was in better condition than the one in the last cabin as well, but the old carpet wasn’t something Aspen would want to curl her bare toes into.

He almost bumped into her coming out of the room.

“How is it?”

“You’re going to want to wear boots to bed, but I didn’t find the source of the alarm.”

Her eyes darted past him to the bedroom. Then she wrinkled her nose in the most adorable way.

As he passed by a closed door, he automatically slid his hand to his spine where he kept his sidearm. Aspen let out a gasp.

“What are you doing!”

“I don’t trust closed doors.” He grasped the old handle and twisted. Pushing the door inward, he shot a look around. No one was in the room, but he did find the source of the beeping.

“The carbon monoxide detector is going off. Get out, princess—now!”

She whirled in a cloud of curls and shot to the front door. He rushed out behind her and slammed the door.

“Get in the truck. On the way down the mountain, you can call the owner and let him know what’s happening.”

They slammed their doors at the same moment. He started the engine while she dialed the owner.

The call went to voicemail, so Aspen left a message detailing what they found upon entering the cabin.

As the truck bumped down the rutted driveway, she gripped the seat with both hands and silently weathered the latest storm all the way to the main road, where it was smoother.

“What now?” he asked her.

“Don’t worry. I have reservations at a third place.” She recited the address.

He stopped at an intersection and took a moment to punch the address into his phone. One look at the exterior on the photo and he groaned. “I have a bad feeling about this. Do we want to risk it?”

Stare glued to her phone screen, she sank her teeth into her bottom lip and nibbled. “I don’t know. But I have a new problem.”

“Worse than someone stealing firewood or poisonous gas?”

“So much worse.”

“What the hell could be worse?”

---