Free Blood on Copperhead Trail by Paula Graves

So some places around here could see next to nothing, and other places could get several inches.”
    He pulled his knees up to his chin and scooted closer to the stove. “As you might imagine, my experience with snow is pretty limited.”
    “Don’t see a lot of it on the Gulf Coast?”
    “Not a lot. Though we probably see more snow than you see alligators, so there’s that.”
    She chuckled. “Now who’s being competitive?”
    They fell silent for a few minutes, listening to the whisper of snow fall against the cabin windows. Doyle must have dozed off, because when Laney spoke again, her voice sent a jolt through his nervous system.
    “Five inches,” she said.
    He roused himself and shot her a halfhearted leer. “Is this another competition? Because I can beat that.”
    She rolled her eyes. “I meant the snowfall, hotshot. I’m predicting five inches. What do you think?”
    “I think it’s cold and I’m hungry, and I ate my last protein bar about three hours ago. You’re a mountain girl. Can’t you go out there and kill me a possum for dinner or something?”
    She grimaced. “Ugh. Opossum meat is greasy and, depending on their diet, can taste pretty horrible. With the park so close, they scavenge a lot of their food from trash cans, so, no.”
    “I don’t know whether to be impressed or appalled that you know so much about possum meat.”
    She seemed to be torn between amusement and consternation. He supposed it wasn’t fair to her to treat her like an interesting woman he’d met on vacation when she was a hard-nosed professional who’d been assigned to investigate his new department. But she was just so damned cute, it was hard to think of her as an opponent, no matter how worthy.
    He let his gaze linger on her soft features, enjoying the way she looked in lamplight. The golden glow was forgiving, although Laney Hanvey wasn’t a woman who required much forgiveness when it came to beauty. She had delicate features that, taken one by one, might not conform to some classical standard of beauty, but the combination could be damned near breathtaking if a man was to glance at her unprepared.
    She had big, wide eyes, as blue as a clear summer sky. Unlike some blonds, her brows and lashes were brown, framing her eyes like a painting. Her nose was slender and small, a little too small for her face if one were inclined to be critical. Doyle was not so inclined. He liked the slight upward tilt and the way her nostrils flared with anger and laughter alike.
    And that mouth. Wide and generous, prone to spreading in a grin that was instantly infectious. Right now, it was pursed as she gazed at him with suspicion.
    He had trouble holding back a grin.
    But as her mouth softened, her lips parting to speak, an unholy shriek ripped through the snowy silence outside the cabin, sending adrenaline racing through Doyle’s nervous system.

Chapter Six
    Despite the growing stiffness in his bruised and aching muscles, Doyle was on his feet in a second, reaching for his pistol. Laney jumped to her feet, as well, her nerves on high alert.
    “Was that an animal?” Doyle asked.
    “I’m not sure,” she admitted, dismayed to hear her voice shaking. She cleared her throat and straightened her spine, even though her nerves were still rattling. “We don’t have a lot of big predators on the mountains except bears. Maybe bobcats. But I’ve never heard either sound anything like that.”
    A gust of wind howled past the cabin, rattling the door and sending a blast of cold air shooting through the narrow spaces between the logs where time had worn away the cement holding them together. Laney shivered, moving closer to the wall of warmth that Doyle’s body afforded.
    They listened in breathless silence for another long minute, waiting for the scream to recur. But there was nothing but the sound of the wind and the whisper of snow falling steadily on the roof of the cabin.
    “Whatever it was, I think it’s gone,” he said finally,