Free At Last by Jill Shalvis Page A

the thing to her chest and took off, and in less than ten seconds, was swallowed up by the woods.
    Matt shook his head and went back to the station, but he didn’t sit more than thirty minutes behind his desk before he was called back out. Being supervisor of the district required him to wear many hats: firefighter, EMT, cop, S&R. Over the next several hours, he used the S&R hat to rescue two kayakers from the Shirley River, which at this time of year was gushing with snow melt. Finicky and dangerous, the river had been closed off to water play. But the kayakers had ignored the warning signs and had gone out anyway, then got stuck on the fast rushing water.
    It took Matt, his rangers, and an additional crew from the south district to get the kayakers safely out of the water. Two rangers were injured in the rescue, but even after all that, the kayakers refused to leave, saying they had the right to do as they wanted on public land.
    Matt ended up forcibly evicting them for violating park laws, and when they argued, he banned them for the rest of the season just because they were complete assholes.
    Sometimes it was good to wear the badge.
    Now down two rangers, he went on with his work. He assisted in the daily reporting on the condition of the trails, tracked the movement of various wildlife as required by one of the federal conservation agencies, then checked on the small forest fire that was burning on the far south end—which was thankfully 95 percent contained, which was good. By the end of his shift, he was hot, sweaty, tired, and starving. But before he left the area, he took the time to drive by the campsite whereRiley had said her family was staying to check the registers. Easy enough to do, it was early in the season, and the snow had barely melted off in the past few weeks. He had four sites booked at this time, and only one of those sites had been booked by a family.
    When he pulled up, that family was standing around their campfire roasting hot dogs and corn on the cob. His mouth watered. He’d had a sandwich hours and hours ago, before the river rescue.
    The campers didn’t have a teenage daughter.
    Which meant that his dinner was going to have to wait. Turning his truck around, he headed back up the fire road to the site of the illegal campfire, where earlier he’d found the teen girl.
    The fire was still out and still emitting residual warmth. Huddled up as close as she could get to it in the quickly cooling evening sat Riley.
    She took one look at him and leapt to her feet.
    He pointed at her as he got out of his truck. “Don’t,” he warned. “I’m not in the mood for another run through the woods.” He was tired as shit and hungry, dammit.
    “What are you doing here?” she asked, still as a deer caught in headlights, though not nearly as innocent as any Bambi.
    “That’s my question for you.”
    “I have rights,” she said.
    “You lied to me.”
    Her eyes flashed. “You weren’t going to believe anything I told you!”
    “Not true,” he told her. “And for future reference, lying to law enforcement officers isn’t a smart move. It makes them not trust you.”
    “Oh, please.” Her stance was slouched, sullen. Defensive. “You didn’t trust me before I even opened my mouth.”
    “Because you
ran
from me.”
    “Okay, well, now I know. You don’t like running or lying. Jeez.”
    “I don’t like attitude either,” he said.
    She tossed up her hands. “Well, what
do
you like?”
    “Not much today. Where’s your family, Riley?”
    “Okay, fine, I’m not with my family. But you saw my ID. I’m eighteen now. I’m on my own.”
    “Where did you come from?”
    “Town.”
    Well wasn’t that nice and vague. “What are you doing in town?”
    “Visiting friends.”
    He sighed. This conversation was like running in circles. “What friends?”
    “I watch all the cop shows, you know.” She crossed her arms. “I don’t have to tell you anything.”
    Christ. “Fine.” He