Page 57 of Risky Passion

I chuckled. “We’ll stop as much as you need.”

“For snacks?”

That caught me off-guard, and I laughed. I liked her. I liked her a lot.

“I’m serious,” she said, deadpan. “You donotwant to see me when I’m hangry.”

I smirked, shaking my head. “You sound like my brother, Whitney. Do you know him? He’s the Rosebud coroner.”

Her brows rose in surprise. “Oh, yes, I do know him. Unfortunately, in my line of work, we’ve crossed paths a few times. I didn’t know he was your brother. Is he older or younger?”

“Older. By three minutes.”

She frowned, her head tilting. “You’re twins?”

“Actually, triplets,” I said. “Whitney, Parker, and me. Parker’s a cold-case detective at Rosebud station. Whitney handles the dead. And Onyx and I deal with both finding the dead, and the living, with a bit of luck.”

Her jaw dropped slightly. “Oh my god. I’ve obviously been sleeping under a log. I didn’t realize you were triplets.”

“Well, we’re not identical. In fact, we’re all pretty different,” I said with a shrug.

She blinked at me. “Okay, I have questions.”

“Shoot.”

“Who did you say was the oldest?”

“Whitney,” I answered. “By three minutes.”

The tension in her shoulders seemed to melt away. “Do you guys fight about that?”

“Every damn time,” I said.

She bit back a laugh. “Anything else you argue about?”

“Plenty,” I said. “Parker thinks he’s the smartest, Whitney swears he’s the most patient, and I just remind them I can still outrun both of them.”

Her laughter came easily, soft and unstrained, and it did something to the air, making it lighter, warmer, like the weight of the night had lifted.

The fire behind us had disappeared, swallowed by the hills, and the track ahead undulated with the rise and fall of the terrain. The moonlight stretched out in front of us, guiding the way forward.

The crunch of dirt underfoot added to the constant hum of insects buzzing around my ears.

A faint smile played on her lips. “Are you close to your brothers?”

“Yes. Very close.”

“You’re lucky,” she murmured. Her voice dipped as if she were lost in thought. “My sister and I—” She stopped mid-sentence, her words hanging in the air.

I glanced at her. “I didn’t realize you had a sibling. When you said you were an orphan?—”

“Izzy’s my stepsister,” she said, her tone softening. “My foster parents couldn’t have children, so they adopted me. Within four months, Mom was pregnant with her miracle child, Izzy.”

I huffed. “It’s weird how the world works.”

“Yeah.”

“So, you didn’t get along?” I asked cautiously.

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