Wildfire on the Skagit (Firehawks Book 9) (15 page)

Dad was working on the search-and-rescue testing. Said they could find a human body heat signature, even in deep trees.

“Hey,” Laura finally managed to drag her attention wholly back to her parents. “If you guys need somewhere to test them, I’d love to play. As the Lodge’s activities director, I’m down rivers, out on lakes, and leading mountain hikes on most days. All with tourists. And you know how much trouble they get into.”

Mom laughed, she knew exactly what her daughter meant. Laura had come by the trade right down the matrilineal line. Grandma had been a fishing and hunting tour guide out of Nome, Alaska back when a woman had to go to Alaska to do more than be a teacher or nurse. Mom had done the same until she met a man from the lower forty-eight who promised they could ride horses almost year-round in Oregon. Laura had practically grown up on horseback, leading group rides deep into the Oregon Wilderness first with her mom and, by the time she was in her mid-teens, on her own.

They chatted about the newest drone technology for a while.

The guy with the big, deep voice finally faded away, one less guy to worry about hitting on her. But out of her peripheral vision, she could still see the other guy, the short one with the tan-dark skin, tight curly black hair, and shoulders like Atlas.

He’d teased the tall guy as they sat down and then gone silent. Not quite watching her; the same way she was not quite watching him.

Her dad missed what was going on, but her mom’s smile was definitely giving her shit about it.

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