Evidence of Trust (2 page)

Her hesitation seemed to clue him in. His eyebrows drew together as his gaze flicked downward. For a brief moment, his grip tightened on her wrists, then he released her arms and pushed to his feet.

Ignoring his outstretched arm, she stood on her own before brushing off her hands on the seat of her jeans while turning to see Paelo still waiting for her. She called him with a soft command and the stallion moved over to her. Rubbing her palms up along his velvety muzzle, she snuck a glance at the ranger to find him watching her horse with open amazement.

He’d secured his gun in a side holster on his belt, but rested his hand on the butt of the weapon, as if ready to draw at a seconds notice. His gaze shifted back to her, his expression grim once more. “Why are you up here?”

“I thought we covered that already.”

“Let’s assume I choose to believe you’re telling the truth. This is still a restricted area. Permits are required for camping.”

“So you’ve said.” Paelo returned to grazing, so she turned to face the ranger and explain exactly why she didn’t have an individual permit.

He stepped closer, his finger jabbing toward her through the air. “You may think you’re above everyone else, but spoiled little rich girls need to register just like the rest of the common folk.”

She barely kept her mouth from hanging open.
Spoiled little rich girls?
Screw him. He knew nothing about her. Wasn’t going to either, she decided. Sure, she could tell him the ranch had unrestricted access to the park, but he didn’t believe she was camping, so why would he believe anything else she said?

“Thank you, sir. Now I know for the future.”

“No.” He gave a shake of his head, swept his gaze over her campsite, then turned his glare back on her. “Not good enough. You can’t stay here. You’re going to have to pack up and go.”

Seriously? Casting a pointed glance toward the setting sun, she saw it was partially obscured by a low bank of thick, white clouds that stretched. The weatherman had said
possibility of light snow
, but she didn’t like the look of them any more than she liked Ranger Morgan’s hostile tone.

“It’s too late to leave tonight.”

When she moved to brush past him, his hand clamped on her arm.

“At first light then,” he ground out, clearly annoyed that she was right. “I’ll drag you from your tent if I have to.”

She jerked free, resisting an urge to massage the tingling feeling that remained from his touch. Batting her eyelashes, she gave him a sugary smile just to piss him off. “Surely you wouldn’t disturb my beauty rest?”

“First light,” he repeated through a jaw clenched so tight it was a wonder he got the words out. As he turned away, he muttered what sounded like, “Now I’m a damn baby-sitter.”

Hands fisted on her hips, Britt glared after his retreating back. Oh, this guy was a piece of work. She’d make sure to be gone before dawn’s early light, and if she was lucky, she wouldn’t run into the jerk again for the rest of the summer.

Chapter 2

By the time Joel Morgan hiked back to where he’d tied his gelding, he concluded Ms. Brittany Lucas was either one hell of an actress, or she really was just camping. Unfortunately, he didn’t think she could’ve fabricated the surprise in those wide green eyes. Not to mention, the genuine relief that had softened her resistance when she’d spotted his badge spoke volumes.

A thief could’ve faked the words, but not the involuntary physical reaction.

Still, he needed to keep an eye on her and make sure she left the area. Not only because she was in a restricted area, but for the precise reason she’d given for running from him. A camper alone in the backcountry wasn’t a good idea to begin with. A woman as pretty as her by herself with a poacher stalking the area put the situation from bad to worse.

He’d felt the stirring of physical reaction as she lay beneath him, all soft curves and a thick mass of blond curls fanned out on the grass. The sick bastard who was responsible for murdering and decapitating the bighorn sheep likely wouldn’t have any issues assaulting her as she’d feared
he
might.

Yeah, she was right to be afraid—he just wished she’d have considered
that
before hitting the trail. He may be new to the Rocky Mountain National Park, but the responsibility of keeping visitors safe weighed on his shoulders, no matter how much the woman’s blatant disregard for the rules irked him.

The ghosts of his past tried to sneak up from behind. Joel shrugged them away. People in his past may not have needed him, but these mountains did, and so did the animals. That’s all that mattered.

He radioed into headquarters to report his location for the night as he swung into the saddle. One of the rangers who’d been assisting with his investigation answered the call.

“Find anything interesting up there?” Randy Gifford asked.

“Just a camper in a restricted area.”

“You think it could be the guy you’re looking for?”

“It’s a woman. Camping where she shouldn’t be. I’m going to make sure she leaves in the morning, then return to my original route.”

“You may want to reconsider. That storm front I mentioned earlier is moving a lot faster than expected. It’s over the Never Summer Mountain Range and will reach your area tonight. Temperature’s dropping, too, so be prepared.”

Joel surveyed the heavy, gray clouds he’d noticed earlier. “What are they forecasting?”

“If it keeps moving, a couple inches. If it stalls, up to a foot.”

He muttered a curse. That would be a problem. “If that happens, we could be up here for a few days, so yeah, scrap the original route. The closest trailhead is Longs Peak, can you get someone to drop off my truck and trailer over there in the morning?”

“Will do.”

Five minutes later, he rode back into Brittany Lucas’s camp as she threw a couple pieces of wood on the campfire that’d been nothing but banked coals when he left. She brushed off her hands before bracing them on her hips.

“Now what?”

He dismounted to unpack his gear. “I’ll be camping here with you tonight.”

“Ranger Morgan, let me assure you, I have every intention of leaving in the morning.”

“And until then, I’ll make sure you stay safe.”

“I don’t need you to babysit me,” she insisted, irritation flooding her voice as she sat by the fire.

Ignoring the fact she’d heard him earlier, he met her stare over the top of Nobel’s saddle. “You got a gun?”

Her gaze faltered. “No.”

“Well, the poacher does, so I’m staying.” That shut her up, until he tossed his sleeping bag inside her tent.

“I don’t think so.” She shot to her feet.

“Don’t worry, I promise I’ll stay on my own side.”

“No.” She stalked over and half-crawled into the tent to drag his bag out. When she straightened, she shoved the roll into his chest. “We can share a fire, but you are
not
sleeping in
my
tent.”

He fisted his hand in the material, leaned around her, and tossed it back inside. When she would’ve spun around, he grasped her arm to keep her facing him. “Did you happen to notice those clouds rolling in?”

She lifted her head toward the darkening sky, and he read the concern in her eyes.

“We’ve got a storm headed our way,” he confirmed. “We’re better off sharing body heat to keep one tent warm instead of two.”

A mutinous glint lit her eyes as she jerked free. “I’ll take my chances alone.”

Of course she would. “You take too many chances alone,” he said, returning to Nobel’s side. After unbuckling the cinch, he gave a jerk to loosen the saddle and decided to try to reason with her. “I realize the situation is not ideal, but the temperature is predicted to drop, and we could get upwards of a foot of snow.”

“So?”

He met her gaze over the horse’s back. “So, it’s my job as a ranger to keep you safe, and that includes making sure you don’t freeze to death.” When she reached inside the tent once more, he lost his patience. “You’re on
my
turf, which means
my
rules. Unless you’re worried about keeping your hands to yourself?”

She straightened to face him, hands empty, gaze narrowed. “Oh, please. Spare me the ego.”

When she stomped away without further protest, a smile tugged the corners of his mouth. Talk about an easy bait, and definitely something to keep in mind. She didn’t like being challenged whether it was in her favor or not.

While he unpacked the rest of his gear, she returned to camp with an armload of wood. He watched her walk away again, then turned a speculative eye toward her tent. Top of the line, the best money could buy. Same with her backpack and other gear. He hadn’t missed the mutiny in her expression when he’d called her a spoiled little rich girl, and now he wondered how much truth the statement held.

His initial, knee-jerk assessment of the beautiful woman and the evidence of money was impairing his judgment, but he couldn’t let those damned ghosts distract him. An objective evaluation of the contrary evidence was in order.

Her gear, her horse, and her attitude suggested he was right on the money with his initial assumption. Her roughing it alone in the mountains—expensive equipment or not—suggested otherwise. Evidence that didn’t add up bugged him. Made him want to dig deeper because usually the evidence was the only thing he trusted.

He led Nobel a short distance away and tied him up, making sure he had enough room to graze before the snow started piling up. He didn’t like the idea of him being out in the elements all night, but couldn’t do much about it other than give the gelding a double helping of grain.

In the gloom of dusk, he saw Brittany also settling her horses for the night.

“That’s some stallion you have there,” he commented. “How old is he?”

“Four.”

“Impressive training.”

“Thanks.”

“Who’d you take him to?”

“No one you’d know.”

Whoever it was must’ve cost a fortune—like the horse itself. The Arabian’s pure bloodlines were evident in his exceptional conformation; small ears, delicate dip in the nose, beautiful arch to his neck, and fine-boned legs.

“I’ve done a bit of training myself,” Joel told her as they made their way back to the campfire. “But I’ve never seen a horse respond to a command in a situation like he did earlier.”

“Yeah, well, I guess I could’ve done better there. I’ll have to work on adding an attack command.”

Joel gave her a quick glance. “
You
trained him?”

She scooped up one of her bags and thumped it down closer to the fire. “What’s so hard to believe about that? You don’t even know me. What I do, where I come from—nothing. There’s that saying about making assumptions, except you’re the only one making an ass of yourself.”

Joel saw fire in her eyes, and it definitely wasn’t a reflection of the one crackling in front of her. She was right, he didn’t know a damn thing about her. It was time he found out.

He sat down on the single large log she’d positioned as a seat. “Then, tell me, Ms. Lucas, what do you do? Where do you come from?”

“None of your business.”

He couldn’t stop a chuckle. “It’s going to be a long night if you can’t answer a few questions.”

“Not for me, I brought a book. I hadn’t planned on company.”

“You sure about that?” he baited, casting a pointed glance at her camping gear. “Animals bring a good price on the black market, and you’re certainly not hurting for cash.”

Her gaze swept over her stuff as if seeing it through his eyes and comprehension dawned in her expression. “Oh, wow. If you’re suggesting
my
expensive gear incriminates me as a poacher, then I can tell you why you haven’t caught them yet.”

“Please, enlighten me.”

She reached into her backpack, then tossed him a square, palm-sized item that he caught with one hand. “You haven’t been looking in the right place.”

Chapter 3

Britt watched Ranger Morgan open her compact and take a look in the mirror. She’d noticed his saddle, the brand on his sleeping bag, and the excellent conformation of his quarter horse gelding. He had absolutely no room to judge with his
ass-
umptions.

His deep chuckle surprised her. “Touché.”

When those gold-flecked eyes rose to hers and his smile flashed, her pulse skipped, then kept tripping along at a pace that annoyed the hell out of her. Cripes, since realizing he wasn’t some dangerous lunatic, every time she let her gaze rest on his face, he was better looking than before. Especially with the dark stubble shadowing his jaw line.

Except he was also a bossy, arrogant jerk. He could’ve asked her to share the tent instead of just declaring
my turf, my rules
. Recalling his comment about keeping her hands to herself, she added
conceited
to her list of descriptive adjectives. His tall, dark and irritatingly good looks shouldn’t have any effect on her—especially after only one smile.

He made a motion with his hand, and she raised hers to catch the mirror as he lobbed it back across the fire. Then he reached over to grab his own pack. “So, are we dining dutch, or do you want to pool our resources?”