gripped his shaking arm. “I’ll take the wheel.”
“I’ll be all right,” he said through teeth that chattered despite the heater’s effort. “We’ll be at the dock in fifteen minutes.”
She made a move to shoulder him aside, and he caught a glimpse of scraped skin and swelling starting beneath her armpit. That was going to be a humdinger of a bruise.
As she readjusted her blanket, something in him was disappointed at the aborted glimpse of her small yet well-formed breast. For distraction, he studied the rough fabric with distaste.
“I’m allergic to wool,” he carped.
“Allergic to wool?” she whined back at him.
“All right,” he chuckled, “I broke the cardinal rule of the fieldtrip.”
“First one to bitch is a sissy.” She raised a sardonic brow and prodded him with her elbow. “If I’m going to dock dressed in this high style, you’re going to also.”
Wyatt stepped back and let her drive. Aft, the rough ride forced him to sit on a locker to take off his boots. It took longer than he expected, his fingers fumbling wet leather laces. Finally, he got them off and followed with his parka and uniform. Wrapping a folded blanket around his waist, he put another layer of wool around his shoulders and went forward.
He leaned against the dash, warming his hands and feeling the blanket scratchy on his skin. As Kyle drove competently, he saw no need to take back the wheel.
After a while, he pointed out the newly pink patches on his chest. “I really am allergic.” He gestured toward the blanket around his waist. “It’s all I can do to keep this on.”
She didn’t miss a beat. “I’m sure a naked ranger would be a hit at the marina.”
He laughed, both because he found the image preposterous and because they had finally broken the ice between them after last night. Despite his wool irritation, he felt good as he gazed out through the spattered windshield.
The view was of Gull Point, where wave-cut bluffs scarred the dense forest. On the north shore, the majestic structure of the Lake Hotel stood out, its pale yellow a contrast to the backdrop of green woods. Near the entrance to Bridge Bay marina, the highway crossing marked the opening into the sheltered cove. Wyatt could not remember when he’d been happier to end an outing on the lake.
Kyle pulled off throttle for the no-wake zone and the cruiser settled in the water. In a few minutes, they would be on their way to the hotel’s cabins. He planned on showering until the hot water heater drained, lying beneath blankets until it reheated, and doing it again.
Only a few nights ago, lying in his tent feeling tremors, he’d been excited about being on the scene for this latest chapter in Yellowstone’s seismic history. Today, he realized if the quake had kicked up a bit stronger, he and Kyle would have been swamped.
From there, it was a small reach to think of being dragged down by their sodden clothing and drowned.
CHAPTER SIX
SEPTEMBER 14
T wo hours later, Kyle felt warm again, but was still shaky inside. And hungry, a deep insistent longing for red meat or some other fatty delight. As she crossed the lawn from her small wooden cabin toward the three-story Lake Hotel clad in yellow-painted lumber, she noted a pair of buffalo lazing in the long golden grass. In the balmy afternoon, it was difficult to believe the wilderness had turned from menacing back to benign.
She entered the hotel through a side door and spotted a pay phone in the hallway. As her cell had drowned this afternoon, she took a moment to set down her leather portfolio of maps and called Stanton’s hospital room. Leila answered faintly.
“How’s our patient?” Kyle twisted the wire that connected receiver to phone.
“Sleeping.”
“Hope I didn’t wake him.”
“Actually, he’s sedated,” Leila confessed. “This afternoon he tore out his IVs, threw that green rock you gave him off his bed tray, and smashed it. The doctors say he’ll need to stay in
“I’ll be all right,” he said through teeth that chattered despite the heater’s effort. “We’ll be at the dock in fifteen minutes.”
She made a move to shoulder him aside, and he caught a glimpse of scraped skin and swelling starting beneath her armpit. That was going to be a humdinger of a bruise.
As she readjusted her blanket, something in him was disappointed at the aborted glimpse of her small yet well-formed breast. For distraction, he studied the rough fabric with distaste.
“I’m allergic to wool,” he carped.
“Allergic to wool?” she whined back at him.
“All right,” he chuckled, “I broke the cardinal rule of the fieldtrip.”
“First one to bitch is a sissy.” She raised a sardonic brow and prodded him with her elbow. “If I’m going to dock dressed in this high style, you’re going to also.”
Wyatt stepped back and let her drive. Aft, the rough ride forced him to sit on a locker to take off his boots. It took longer than he expected, his fingers fumbling wet leather laces. Finally, he got them off and followed with his parka and uniform. Wrapping a folded blanket around his waist, he put another layer of wool around his shoulders and went forward.
He leaned against the dash, warming his hands and feeling the blanket scratchy on his skin. As Kyle drove competently, he saw no need to take back the wheel.
After a while, he pointed out the newly pink patches on his chest. “I really am allergic.” He gestured toward the blanket around his waist. “It’s all I can do to keep this on.”
She didn’t miss a beat. “I’m sure a naked ranger would be a hit at the marina.”
He laughed, both because he found the image preposterous and because they had finally broken the ice between them after last night. Despite his wool irritation, he felt good as he gazed out through the spattered windshield.
The view was of Gull Point, where wave-cut bluffs scarred the dense forest. On the north shore, the majestic structure of the Lake Hotel stood out, its pale yellow a contrast to the backdrop of green woods. Near the entrance to Bridge Bay marina, the highway crossing marked the opening into the sheltered cove. Wyatt could not remember when he’d been happier to end an outing on the lake.
Kyle pulled off throttle for the no-wake zone and the cruiser settled in the water. In a few minutes, they would be on their way to the hotel’s cabins. He planned on showering until the hot water heater drained, lying beneath blankets until it reheated, and doing it again.
Only a few nights ago, lying in his tent feeling tremors, he’d been excited about being on the scene for this latest chapter in Yellowstone’s seismic history. Today, he realized if the quake had kicked up a bit stronger, he and Kyle would have been swamped.
From there, it was a small reach to think of being dragged down by their sodden clothing and drowned.
CHAPTER SIX
SEPTEMBER 14
T wo hours later, Kyle felt warm again, but was still shaky inside. And hungry, a deep insistent longing for red meat or some other fatty delight. As she crossed the lawn from her small wooden cabin toward the three-story Lake Hotel clad in yellow-painted lumber, she noted a pair of buffalo lazing in the long golden grass. In the balmy afternoon, it was difficult to believe the wilderness had turned from menacing back to benign.
She entered the hotel through a side door and spotted a pay phone in the hallway. As her cell had drowned this afternoon, she took a moment to set down her leather portfolio of maps and called Stanton’s hospital room. Leila answered faintly.
“How’s our patient?” Kyle twisted the wire that connected receiver to phone.
“Sleeping.”
“Hope I didn’t wake him.”
“Actually, he’s sedated,” Leila confessed. “This afternoon he tore out his IVs, threw that green rock you gave him off his bed tray, and smashed it. The doctors say he’ll need to stay in
Similar Books
