Chapter 4

Cyrus fought the urge to smile, knowing his lips were beginning to twitch at the corners. He cleared his throat and lifted his turkey sandwich to take a big bite out of it, trying to forestall a full-on grin.

The woman was awfully cheerful over the fact he was doing his best to give her the cold shoulder. He'd been downright rude, but that hadn't fazed her one bit. He had to wonder if she was smart as hell and purposely drilling for reactions or not the brightest bulb and completely unaware that he was uninterested in her.

Only that wasn't precisely true. Not now, anyway. She kind of intrigued him.

Milly Bauer wasn't like most of the women he met. She wasn't looking for a hookup unless she thought annoying the shit out of a man was the way to get him to lie down with her. And she hadn't ignored him, taking his unsubtle hints he'd rather not talk. Nope. She seemed to be okay doing all the heavy lifting.

Her expression was open, curious—and amused.

So, maybe she wasn't his type, although he wasn't sure he really had one. But under other circumstances, he wouldn't have given her a second glance. Her uniform did little to recommend her figure, which appeared kind of boyish—light curves above and below. Her hair was a nondescript brown that looked a little silvery in direct sunlight. She wore it in a long braid that looked a little worse for wear and a bit fuzzy after their mad dash through the woods. She had pale freckles the same color as her hair dusting her nose and cheeks.

Now that he'd taken a second look, the only features that stood out were her eyes, which were a pretty gray-blue, and her mouth, which was a natural pale pink, with the top lip so thin he wondered if it would disappear altogether if she gave a man a blowjob.

"How long you been a park ranger?" he asked, his voice suddenly getting a little gruffer. He had to wipe that last image from his mind.

"Just eighteen months. I was recruited after I graduated from UW in Laramie and then they sent me to a 20-week federal law enforcement course in Georgia."

His gaze studied her face.

"If you're trying to do the math, I'm twenty-five."

"You look younger," he said.

She rolled her eyes. "You're what? Early thirties?"

"Thirty-one."

"So, you're legal, too!" she said, grinning.

He pressed his lips together and pushed up from his seat. "We better get back to the hospital." He grabbed the bag with the sandwiches and chips for Mike and Tate Smith.

"Was it something I said?" she quipped then tossed him a grin as she gathered her leftover trash from the table.

He blinked, still unsure what she was all about.

They returned to the hospital, and minutes later, an orderly wheeled out Tate, wearing a plastic, puffy cast around his ankle.

Mike held up a clear plastic bag. "Pain pills, although I'm sure officers at the detention center will have something to say about them. Said they couldn't cast him until the swelling goes down."

"Just give me the lot when we get there, and I won't give a shit you're takin' me back to jail," Tate said. "Fucker hurts, but I'm not too worried about it now."

Cyrus held up a paper bag. "Got lunch for you two. Thought you could eat while we head back to West Yellowstone." He tilted his head toward the park ranger. "She's gonna see us out of the park."

Mike grinned. "I take it park administrators here don't think we're a good look."

Milly wrinkled her nose. "We're all rainbows and bison here."

"Well, I truly appreciate you saving us from that bear," Mike said.

She patted the can attached to her belt. "Any time." She glanced at Cyrus, who frowned down at her. "Thanks for lunch. I'll see you around ."

Her tone lent the words the same sort of feeling as if she'd patted his butt.

Mike chuckled, his gaze moving between them. She pointed over her shoulder toward the exit. "I'll follow you out. Keep your speed under forty-five."

Once he, Mike, and Tate were inside his SUV, Mike handed Tate his sandwich. Because they'd chained his hands in front of him, with another chain attached to the floorboard, he could manage to eat.

"Hey, there's mayo on my sandwich," Tate said. "I hate fucking mayo."

"If you don't want it, you don't have to eat it," Cyrus said, pulling out onto the US Route 14.

"Follow 14 to 191," Mike said, biting his own turkey sandwich. "Mustard, just like I like it."

Cyrus's glance went to the rearview window where Milly's Tahoe followed.

"She's quite a character," Mike said.

Cyrus grunted. "Talks too much."

"So, you two had a conversation?" He chuckled.

"She did most of the talking."

"Well, did you ask her out?"

Cyrus aimed a scalding glare at his part-time partner.

Mike's eyebrows shot upward. "She sounded plenty interested."

"She's just…perky. There was nothin' special about the way she spoke to me."

"Huh. I didn't get an ‘I'll see you around.'"

They came to the turnoff to follow US 191, heading north. Cyrus glanced at his speedometer and groaned inwardly. At this pace, what should've been an hour's drive would take an extra half hour longer—with Milly following them all the way to the park gate.

"You exchanged phone numbers at least, right?"

"We did not." The idea. He grunted.

"Too bad you didn't catch a ride with her. You could've kept her company until we hit the gate."

"Cage said you weren't a Chatty Cathy," Cyrus muttered.

"I'm just…intrigued. She's attractive in a very natural way. She's got a decent personality—friendly and all. You should've at least got her number. You might not run into her again."

"She lives in West Yellowstone."

Mike barked a laugh.

"Girl drove off a bear," Tate said from the back seat. "And she kept up with you in the woods. I'd date her."

With Mike chuckling beside him and Tate giving him dating advice, Cyrus sat musing that this was one absurd day. Like he'd ask Milly out. She wasn't his type.

Only the idea kind of intrigued him. What would her idea of an ideal date look like? Would she expect roses and a meal someplace where there were candles on the table? He shuddered at the thought.

Maybe she was into fishing. He was kind of wishing he'd asked her about places he could fish and hunt, just to see if she showed any interest in those sorts of things. Did she like camping? Or had working at the park killed any interest in the great outdoors?

Tate and Mike finished their meals and their drinks.

"I gotta piss," Tate said.

Which meant they had to find a place to pull over. Milly would likely sit in her car while they saw to Tate's comfort. However, if she stepped out of her vehicle, maybe that would indicate she was open to further conversation.

Fuck. He'd have to talk to her again, and he felt like his tongue was thick and unwieldy every time she stared at him.

"There's a restroom just ahead," Mike said. "I'll get him inside by myself. He's not going anywhere with that broken ankle."

They pulled into the small parking lot, putting several spaces between their vehicle and the only other one in the lot. Milly's Tahoe pulled in beside them.

Mike helped Tate out, then held his arm as Tate hopped on one foot to the restroom door.

Cyrus stepped out of his vehicle and leaned against the side.

A moment later, Milly stepped out of her vehicle. She spoke into her radio before walking over to him. "I see—"

"Yeah, he had to piss."

They both cleared their throats at the same time. Pink color filled her cheeks. He felt his cheeks warm.

What the hell? He might as well ask and get shot down and then it would be over.

"Do you want to go out?" they both said. Then they stood, their eyebrows rising.

She laughed. "I was thinking since I'm from Yellowstone, that I could show you around."

"I've seen it."

She arched an eyebrow. "Do you fish?"

His eyes narrowed on her. "Yup."

"I have a small bass boat I take out on Lake Hegben; two seats, a motor. You interested?"

"What kind of fish do you catch?"

"Rainbow and brown trout—and I clean what I catch."

He grunted and looked away because a smile was tugging at his mouth again. She'd said the last bit like it was a challenge.

"I can bring a grill, and we can cook what we catch on shore."

Damn if that didn't sound like a perfect date. His gaze swept over her, head to foot and back up again. "When are you off?"

She smiled so wide a dimple dented her right cheek. "Sunday is the soonest. How about you?"

"Sunday'll work."

She gazed out at the road. "It's about thirty minutes to the gate."

"Uh, maybe I should ride with you. So, we can exchange information."

"Sure," she said, not looking at him, but her mouth curved in a smile. "I'd like the company."

When Mike and Tate exited the restroom, Mike's gaze went to Cyrus and Milly standing close together, and he grinned.

After they'd chained Tate in the back again and administered a couple of pain pills, Cyrus dug in his pocket and pulled out his keys.

Mike didn't say anything. He simply tipped his imaginary hat and moved around to the driver's seat.

Cyrus followed Milly to her vehicle. After she moved some equipment from her passenger seat, he climbed in beside her.

"You find a place to stay in West Yellowstone?"

"The agency bought an old dude ranch. We're staying in the lodge there until we find our own places. No rush, though."

"That sounds nice," she said, pulling out onto the road to follow Mike and Tate.

"How about you? I mean, you have a place?"

She laughed. "I have a place that I share with my brother. Our parents signed over their house to us when they retired to Louisiana."

"Louisiana? Why not Florida?"

"I know, right? Who wants that humidity and the mosquitoes? But my dad's family is there. He was a park ranger, too. We moved around the country until he landed at Yellowstone. He loved the job, but not the winters. I've lived here long enough that I'm kind of used to it. I even icefish on Hegben in the winter. And there's nothing like riding a snowmobile through the park."

"I can see how that would appeal."

"How about you?" she asked. "Where are you from?"

He shrugged. "Nowhere. Everywhere. My dad was in the Army. We lived in Germany, Alaska, Georgia, Texas… Some places more than once."

"Is he retired?"

"Yeah. And in Florida. He likes the weather, but he's on the Atlantic coast; he's seen his share of hurricanes. I think he kind of likes the challenge of surviving there."

She chuckled. "Your mom…?"

"Still kickin'. She loves the beach and birdwatching. She belongs to one of those groups that meet all over Florida to go ‘birding,' as she calls it. My dad sticks close to home. He's always got some project or repair he's working on."

"Brothers? Sisters?"

"A sister. She lives close to them."

"You close to her?"

He grimaced. "She has a shop that sells essential oils and vitamins. If she went fishin', she'd feel sorry for the fish and toss it back."

She gave a cute, feminine snort. "Essential oils, huh?"

"You ask a lot of questions," he said, giving her a sideways glance.

"Well…it's not like you volunteer a lot of information."

He pursed his lips and nodded. "Guess that's fair."

She laughed.

He wondered what he'd said that was so damn funny, but he did like the sound of her laughter. It wasn't shrill or girlish. It was kind of husky. A sexy sound, actually, and he began to feel a little uncomfortable, like he needed to shift in his seat to give his balls and his dick some room, but that would be too noticeable because even though her gaze was seemingly on the road in front of them, she was watching him out of the corner of her eye, and he doubted she missed much.

Damn, and he was going to be in the middle of a lake, sitting in a boat for hours, unable to do so much as adjust his junk without her noticing. And what if he needed to take a leak? He'd spent days on a lake before, alone or with some other dude. They'd tended to point over the boat's edge when the urge hit.

He thought he better skip coffee on Sunday because he wasn't going to whip it out in her presence. And then he wondered what she might do if he had to…

"So, Sunday…." she said. "We won't eat unless we catch something, although I will make some side dishes to go with the fish and put them in a cooler to keep them from spoiling. Do you like any vegetables with your fish? Cooked, raw?"

"I'm not picky. No mushrooms, though. They taste like dirt."

"This'll be fun. I haven't been out on the lake in forever. Oh!" She pointed ahead. "That's the gate."

Ahead, Mike pulled the SUV to the side of the line of vehicles leaving the park. Milly stopped just behind him. She didn't move to get out of the vehicle; she just watched as he did. "We never exchanged numbers, addresses…"

Her expression was a little subdued. Did she think he'd been stringing her along? He held out his hand. "Give me your phone."

She opened her phone and gave it to him. He quickly entered his number and tapped the screen. His phone rang, and his gaze locked with hers. "I'll call later. Set a time and place."

She nodded. "Tell Mike goodbye."

He nodded and closed the door, quickly striding toward his Sequoia and climbing into the passenger side.

Mike gave him a quick grin as he buckled up. "Well?"

"Well, what?" Cyrus said, but he sat back, grinning. He glanced one last time in the side mirror to watch as she turned around and headed back into the heart of the park.