Page 7 of Roaring Heat
"This is my town, remember? You’re the one who keeps showing up where I am."
He isn't wrong. "That's pure coincidence, but it feels more like you’re the one following me."
His grin widens. "Wouldn’t blame me if I were."
I roll my eyes and push past him into the station, determined not to let him rattle me. Inside, I meet the ranger on duty—a wiry man named Carson, whose weathered face creases deeper when I introduce myself. "Wildlife biologist, huh?" he says, not unkindly. "Hope you’ve got steel nerves. Things have been a bit weird lately."
"Weird how?" I ask.
He hesitates. "Nothing you can really pin down or follow up on. Just predators out of place. Deer moving strangely. A couple of nights ago, someone swore they saw a strange shadow cross the road, but it was a Friday night and the tavern here is usually pretty busy on Fridays."
The way he says it—too calm, too precise—tells me he doesn’t believe it was just alcohol. There's a flicker in his expression, not quite fear, but something close. Like he knows exactly what they saw and just doesn’t want to put it into words.
Before I can ask any follow-up questions, Beau strolls in, leaning on the counter like he owns it. Carson shuts his mouth with a snap, like someone turned off a faucet.
I glance between them. "Really? You were about to tell me something, and now you’re clamming up?"
Carson scratches his jaw, then glances toward the window, his voice dropping a notch. "You’ll see soon enough. Just… keep your eyes open and stay safe."
Beau gives an almost imperceptible nod before heading back to Elsie's truck. Carson has turned away from the counter, and I'm left feeling nothing I can say will induce him to part with more information.
Outside, Beau waits, arms folded, as if he knew Carson wouldn’t say a word with him there. The grin he gives me is infuriatingly sexy. It isn’t much, and I should be angry, but it’s enough to make my pulse quicken.
"You scare people into silence everywhere you go, or just when I’m asking questions?" I demand.
He meets my gaze, calm and steady. "Some truths you don’t get from other people. You need to learn them for yourself... or from me."
"And you’ve decided I’m not ready."
His expression flickers as he gives me a dismissive shrug. There's something dangerous and protective simmering just under the surface of Beau's cool demeanor.
"I’ve decided I don’t want you hurt. That’s all," he says before turning back to Elsie's truck.
The words should feel reassuring, but they land somewhere between a promise and a warning. Part of me wants to believe him, to let that certainty wrap around the sharp edges of my doubt. But another part—older, more cautious—bristles at being protected without consent.
I take a step closer before I can stop myself. "You don’t even know me."
He straightens and faces me directly, his eyes darkening. "Don’t I?"
The ground between us hums with tension, and for one reckless heartbeat, I swear the air itself leans in. Beau’s jaw tightens, his fingers twitch at his sides like he’s holding back from reaching for something—or someone. He doesn’t move closer, but the intensity in his eyes sharpens, steady and unflinching. Before I can ask what he means, a shout rings out from down the street. Someone is yelling about an animal near the schoolyard.
Beau’s attention snaps toward the sound, sharp and immediate. He doesn’t hesitate—just bolts, boots hitting the ground, every line of his body taut with purpose.
And I, against all logic, run after him.
CHAPTER 3
BEAU
The second the shout hits the air, instinct takes over. My boots dig into the dirt as I sprint toward the sound, with no time to look back and see if Anabeth is keeping pace. I already know she is. That woman charges headfirst into everything, including danger she doesn’t understand. And right now, the last place she should be is near whatever caused the alarm.
The schoolyard comes into view as I round the corner, lungs steady, eyes scanning. A small group of locals stands near the edge of the swing set, some pointing, others herding kids away from the play yard and toward the building.
Burt, the wiry guy from the hardware store, waves me over. "It was right there," he says, gesturing toward the edge of the treeline. "Something big. Just watching. Then it turned and disappeared."
I slow to a walk, keeping my movements calm, measured. No need to escalate panic. The trees on the far side of the lot stand still, but I can feel it—the way the forest holds a breath that doesn’t belong to it. Something was here. Not just a bobcat or coyote. Something that doesn’t give a damn about boundaries.
"Define 'something big'?" I need to know what he saw.
