She let out a dry laugh. “Oh, I can feel plenty of pain. My feet are so cold it feels like I’m walking on shards of glass.”
He glanced down and grimaced. “For future reference, heels are not the best footwear for trudging through snow.”
Those amazing eyes narrowed. “I wasn’t planning on doing any snow trudging.”
“Right.” He let his gaze roam over her as he speculated. “You just got stuck out here because your car broke down, and tromping through the woods seemed like the way to solve the problem.”
“Something like that,” she grumbled through her teeth.
Ryder shook his head. Usually, he was great with people, women especially. He was a nice, friendly guy. His pleasant demeanor helped him nab the bad guy more than a time or two. He always played good cop. So, why was he baiting this woman? Maybe he was cranky from the cold.
The cold.
Shit, I am an ass.
Here he was trying to get the truth out of whoever this lady was, and she could very well be catching hypothermia as they spoke.
Stellar police work there, Ryder.
“Come on.” He took her arm gently.
She pulled away with a sharp intake of breath.
He paused at the expression on her face, one of pure terror. What the hell happened to her?
Hands up in a nonthreatening manner, he said, “Easy now. I was just going to put you on Wind Chaser and ride you into town.”
Those fearful, hazel eyes darted back and forth between horse and man.
“We only have one hotel. Its doors close at nine, but I can call up Roger and see if he has a room for you.”
A million emotions passed over her expressive face, but Ryder focused on the one most prominent.
Desperation.
He’d bet the farm she was running from something. What, he wasn’t sure.
“If you’d prefer,” he said, speaking before he even thought it through, “you can stay with me for the night.”
That got her attention. Her breath came faster, and she glanced around for escape routes. Damn, he hadn’t meant to scare her. To make it sound like that.
“I have an extra room,” he explained, trying to clear up the miscommunication. “There’s a lock on the door and everything. I know you don’t know me from Adam, but I swear, I’m not some kind of pervert or serial killer. I’m just trying to help.”
She worried her bottom lip, indecision plain on her face, her voice soft as she asked, “Why?”
He felt a sad smile kick up the corner of his mouth. What happened to this poor woman to make her so skeptical?
“Because you look like you need it.”
A sob broke from her lip, but she swallowed it back down and blinked the tears away.
Terrified, wary, but strong. Damn, she was something.
She nodded slowly, then with more vigor. “Okay. I’ll stay with you.”
His smile was genuine this time. “Great. Ever ride a horse before?”
Her eyes went wide, and she shook her head.
He laughed. “Nothing to worry about. It’s just like riding a bike. Except you don’t have to pedal.”
“A bike on steroids maybe,” she muttered.
Not wanting to spook her again, Ryder held out his hand this time instead of grabbing her arm. Reluctantly, she placed hers in his.
“Jesus, you’re freezing.”
“I passed freezing half an hour ago.”
Bringing her to Wind Chaser’s side, he showed her how to place a foot in the stirrup. She gripped the saddle horn and swung her leg over. Her momentum didn’t quite make it. As she started to fall back, he placed his hand on her backside and hoisted her up onto the saddle.
“Thanks,” she mumbled, sitting stock still.
“Yeah. No problem.”
Ryder untied the riding blanket strapped onto the back of his saddle and tried not to think about how lush and warm her sweet, round cheeks had felt in his hands.
Get it together, man.
The woman was half-frozen and terrified to boot. She didn’t need him lusting after her like a horny schoolboy just because he accidently copped a feel. No matter how amazing the feel had been.
Hoisting himself up behind her, he unrolled the blanket and wrapped it around her.
“Here, this will help keep you warm until we get back to my place.”
She accepted with a grateful nod, burrowing into it. He nudged Wind Chaser, and the horse set off for home. The woman, whose name he still hadn’t gotten, held herself stiff in the saddle against him. Soon, however, the rocking motion of the horse’s steps lulled her into relaxation.
Ryder wrapped an arm around her as he realized she’d fallen asleep, head falling back against him, her cold-reddened cheek resting against his chest. Tucking her close to his body, he gazed down at her face, taking a good look at it for the first time. Small, round, with high, delicate cheekbones, a slim nose, and the most lush, kissable lips he had ever seen…
What the hell is wrong with me? This woman was obviously in some kind of trouble, and here he was wondering if she tasted as good as she looked.
Wandering the woods in the middle of the night, in clothing more suited to a mall outing than a winter hike, she was hiding something and lying to him with every word that came out of her pretty little mouth. As an officer of the law, truth was of the utmost importance to him. She should not fascinate him.
So, why was he taking her to his home instead of the hotel, or station? Why was he holding her in his arms as if she were precious? And why did it feel so right to have her there?
Chapter 3
A delicious smell woke her—the smell of bacon frying. Strange, Jen was a vegetarian. Kayla loved the stuff, but out of respect for her friend, she never cooked it at home.
Why would Jen be cooking bacon?
Her eyes fluttered open. As she took in the strange surroundings, the past few days came crashing back. Jen wasn’t cooking bacon—Jen was dead. And Kayla wasn’t at home. She was…
She had no idea, really. All she knew was the man last night, Ryder, found her in the woods and offered her a ride back to his house. So, here she was in a strange man’s home.
Am I crazy? This is how all those serial killer movies start.
It had seemed like a good idea at the time. Better than freezing to death in the woods or risking another creepy trucker ride. She’d take a bedroom door with a lock over a truck cab any day.
Kayla still couldn’t believe she rode an actual horse last night. The thing had been huge. Horses never looked that big on TV.
Had she fallen asleep? She must have, because she didn’t remember arriving at Ryder’s home. Yet, here she was, snuggled into the warmest, comfiest bed she had ever been in. She glanced around the room, about the same size as hers back home. The queen-sized bed took up a good portion of the space, and there was a small closet along the far wall and a large oak dresser near the window.
A picture of Ryder hugging an attractive looking woman in a cap and gown, with similar features and identical long, dark hair, sat on top of the dresser. They both looked so happy. Judging by the likeness, she guessed them to be siblings.
Her heart clutched again, the image reminded her of Jen, her sister at heart. It was so unfair what had happened to her.
I can’t let David get away with it.
But how would she be able to prove what a monster he was if she had to keep running and hiding?
Her stomach growled, reminding her it had been almost a day since she had eaten. The chips she scarfed down from the bus stop vending machine yesterday morning were the last things she remembered eating.
Dang, the bacon smell was really getting to her.
Tossing aside the warm comforter, she rose from the bed. She looked down, noticing she still wore her clothing from yesterday. Her coat and shoes had been removed. By her or Ryder? Since she didn’t remember disrobing and hopping into this very comfortable bed, it must have been him. He left her clot
hes on; that gave credence to him being a good guy, right?
The hardwood floor pricked like ice under her bare feet. Kayla walked to the closet on tiptoes, to minimize her exposure to the chilly floor. Hopefully, there would be some slippers or warm socks in there for her to borrow.
Bingo!
There on the floor, she spotted a pair of brown, furry, boot-like slippers. She also grabbed a blue knit sweater from a coat hanger. Pulling it over her head, she left the bedroom in search of the delicious smelling bacon. It didn’t take her long to find. A quick walk down the hall and she found herself in a bright, cheery-looking kitchen.
Sunlight poured in from a bay window, where a small, round table with two chairs sat. White cabinets with blue trim gave the kitchen a country farm feel. Stainless steel appliances kept the room from looking too old fashion. And there, cooking at the stove, with his back to her, stood Ryder.
Delicious smells of bacon, eggs, and coffee wafted in the air between them. Her tummy gave a soft rumble of anticipation.
“Oh good, you’re up.”
The man had ears like a bat.
“I was just about to come and wake you. Breakfast is all ready.” He glanced over his shoulder, gave her a smile, and motioned with his head toward the small table. “Have a seat.”
Kayla walked over and sat. A quick glance around the kitchen revealed nothing unusual. Appliances, dishes, an aloe plant by the window. No severed heads or chains bolted to the wall. So, highly unlikely Ryder was a psycho killer.
She scoffed to herself. Yeah, like the guy would keep that stuff out in plain sight.
Still, if he’d wanted to hurt her, he could have done it last night when she fell into exhausted unconsciousness.
Unless he’s lulling me into a false sense of security.
It didn’t feel like that to her, but she’d be smart to keep her wits. David was a stark reminder of how wrong she could be about a person.
“Here’s some coffee to start you out.” Ryder brought a steaming hot cup over to her. “Cream and sugar?”
She nodded, and he smiled again, turning from her to retrieve the items from the counter.
Good gravy, the man’s handsome.
She had been sure her impression of him last night was a side effect of sleep deprivation. No such luck. Jake Ryder was even better looking this morning than he had been last night. In the light of the day, she could see much better. Smooth, tanned skin and sharp features, which should have made him hard, only served to increase his appeal. His smile was as devastating as those rich, chocolate eyes.
And don’t even get her started on that hair. It hung down his back, loose and beautiful. Normally, she didn’t like long hair on men, but on Ryder, somehow, it fit. It was so sleek and shiny. Her fingers ached to touch it. She wanted to run her hands through those silky stands and see if they were as soft as they looked.
What the heck is wrong with me?
She was on the run. Wanted for trumped up murder charges, and here she was mooning over her late night rescuer. Fine time for her libido to kick in.
Blame it on all the adrenalin.
“Here you go.” He placed a plate of piping hot food in front of her. “I hope you like scrambled. Every time I try to do over-easy, I end up popping the yolk.”
He lifted his shoulders in a sheepish shrug she found adorable.
No, no she did not. She found it nothing. He was not adorable or sexy or anything.
Focus, Kayla. Running for your life, not looking for a date to the prom.
She glanced at him again and frowned. Good looking, seemingly normal, who else did that describe? David Tyler. Look how well her assumption of him turned out.
The devil hides behind an angel’s face.
Wasn’t that the phrase? She’d do well to remember this man, though generous and good-natured now, could turn on a dime. Could you ever really know someone?
“So.” He took the seat across from her, his own plate in hand. “How do you feel this morning?”
“Fine.” She took a bite of her eggs—oh man, even better than they smell—and shrugged.
He took a sip of his coffee, watching her over the rim of the mug. She shifted in her seat under his scrutiny, letting her gaze drift to the window. Snow, trees, and more snow.
“Where am I?”
His brow drew down. “My house. You agreed to come here last night, remember?”
“No, I mean, where is your house?”
Circumspection entered his gaze as he answered, “Peak Town. Colorado.”
Colorado? She’d traveled far. Hopefully, far enough to escape David and the Chicago PD.
“You know, I never did catch your name last night.”
Suspicion colored his voice. What could she tell him? Had they received word about Kayla Jenkins, wanted fugitive, all the way out here in Peak Town, Colorado? Should she use a false name? Something more common, like Jane Smith?
Oh yeah, ’cause that’s not suspicious at all.
“I, um…can’t remember.”
“You can’t remember?” Disbelief dripped off every word.
“I hit my head when my car ran off the road. Memory is still a little fuzzy.” There, that should do it. People got amnesia from head trauma all the time. She could sell this.
“Kayla.”
“What?”
“Your name is Kayla.”
Fear shot through her like a red-hot poker. He knew her name. The news had spread to Peak Town. Maybe there was a reward, and Ryder had been toying with her. He was just waiting to call the cops, call David. She would be thrown in jail, and no one would ever know what really happened to Jen.
“It’s on your necklace.” One long finger pointed to her chest.
Her hand fluttered to the gold chain hanging from her neck. A Christmas present from Jen three years ago. She probably should have ditched the jewelry along with her identification back in Kansas, but she couldn’t bear to part with it. The sentimental gift was now the only thing she had left of her friend.
“I figure if you wear a piece of jewelry with a name on it, must be yours, right?”
She shrugged, neither confirming nor denying.
“Mmm hmm.”
They ate in silence. Once Ryder cleared his plate, he went to the pot and refilled his coffee. He offered more to her, but she declined.
“Shame about your memory. You sure you don’t want to see the doc?”
She shook her head.
“Head injuries can be tricky, especially with memory loss.”
The skepticism in his voice had her cursing her poor bluffing skills. “I’m fine.”
He shrugged. “Still, can’t let you go about not knowing who you are.”
Oh yes he could. The less he knew about her, the better.
“Not a problem, though. I can help you find your identity.”
Shoot! Just what she needed, a nosy Dudley-Do-Right trying to help her.
“That’s not necessary. Thank you for your help last night and breakfast this morning, but I really should get going.”
“And where are you going to go with no car and no memory?”
Funny thing was, she actually had no idea, but she knew staying here was not an option. “I’ll figure it out.”
“I can help.”
“What makes you think so?”
He toyed with the rim of his coffee mug, expression unreadable. “I have resources.”
Resources? What kind of identity finding resources could a cowboy have?
“Like what?”
He took a sip of his coffee, those penetrating eyes focused on her. “Records.”
“Records?” Like music?
He nodded. “DMV, arrest, background checks.”
The fork froze on the way to her mouth, blood turning to ice in her veins. Oh no, please, please no—” You a P.I. or something?” Please be or something.
“Nope.” Ryder shook his head, taking another sip of coffee before continuing. “I’m the sheriff here
in Peak Town.”
Her vision dimmed. Blinding terror blazed through her. Not another cop. He would never believe her. If he knew who she really was, he’d send her straight to the Chicago PD…and David. He could find out, too. So easy. Just one fingerprint—as a schoolteacher, hers were on record.
She had to get out, now.
In her haste to stand, she knocked against the table, causing her coffee cup to tip over onto the floor. She shrieked as the shattered ceramic pieces scattered along the hardwood.
Ryder was there in an instant, pulling her to him, wrapping his arms around her in comfort. “Hey, hey, hey. It’s all right. Just a broken mug. No reason to panic.”
She froze against him as her body warred with her mind.
He smells so good.
He’s a cop.
His arms are so strong and soothing.
He’ll arrest me in a heartbeat if he knew who I am.
At least he isn’t a psycho killer.
“You okay?”
She had to play along. Not act like a crazy woman. That would raise his suspicions even more. She had to keep up the amnesiac pretense until she could sneak away. Because she was sure of one thing, as an officer of the law, Ryder would never let her go until he had answers. So, she had to keep it together for a little while longer. Until she found a chance to run.
“Yes, I’m fine. Just a little on edge from everything I guess.” Kayla pulled out of his embrace. “It would be great if you could help me find my identity. Thank you.” She pasted on what she hoped was a convincing smile.
He looked down at her, the skepticism plain on his face. “Not a problem. We can head down to the station later today—”
“No.”
He raised a brow at her sharp denial.
She smiled again, trying to cover her outburst. “I mean, I’m still really tired and sore from the accident. I would really like to take it easy today. Maybe soak in a warm tub? I think my feet are still a bit frozen.” She tried for a laugh, but it fell flat.
“Sure,” he said, staring intently at her. “I have the day off today anyway. I guess I can take you in tomorrow, and we can run a fingerprint scan. See if you’re in the system.”
Love on the Risky Side Page 2
