Read Danger, Sweetheart for Free Online Page A

You’re forever running around telling people this isn’t rocket science, that’s not rocket science. Nobody elected you the namer of things rocket science!” A pause. “What’s wrong? Why is your face doing that?”
    â€œI have no idea. I can’t see my face.” He swallowed another sigh. “Either I’m getting a headache or my brain is trying to eject from my skull in pure self-defense.”
    â€œBummer! Need some Advil?”
    â€œAdvil,” he said, rubbing his temples, “is not what I need.” He glanced at his brother’s face, then away. “You all right?”
    Rake shrugged, then indicated the puffy flesh beneath his eye, which had swelled slightly smaller than a Ping-Pong ball and displayed an impressive range of green bruising. “It’s just sore.”
    â€œI assume whatever damsel you rescued was appropriately grateful?”
    Another shrug. “I dunno. Never got the chance to ask. I saw a couple of assholes harassing the kiddo, and when I rolled up one had her purse and the other was about to have her. So … you know.”
    He did know. Rake had their mother’s quick temper, as well as an inability to tolerate an unfair fight. When they were eleven, he’d grabbed a Wiffle ball bat and rushed to defend a classmate trying to hold her own against two high school students from the next trailer park. If it had been a real bat, he might have killed them. As it was, both boys had odd Wiffle-shaped welts all over their backs and legs and fled, yelping, never to be seen again. Because Rake was terrible, but most people were even worse.
    â€œShe took off before I could make sure she was okay. The way she was moving, she was probably okay.”
    â€œIf you’re going to let people smack you, you might at least tend properly to the injury.” He waved the waitress over. “Could I get a clean washcloth and—”
    â€œBlake—”
    â€œâ€”a bowl of water? And some ice?”
    â€œFirst off, they’re not bringing you bowls of water and cloths. This is not business class on a flight to Tokyo. Second, this happened two days ago. Anything you do now will be window dressing.”
    â€œAnd some duct tape for my brother’s mouth,” he finished, then turned to Rake. “If you sit still and take care of this, I’ll schedule the call to Mom for an hour later, so you can get a nap first.”
    â€œAwwww. You do care!”
    â€œShut up.”
    â€œI feel safer already.”
    â€œStop talking.”
    â€œSuch big, strong arms! To go with your big, strong feet!”
    â€œI hope you get blood poisoning and die.”
    â€œNo, you don’t.” Rake was positively radiating smugness. It was as sickening as it was (slightly, very slightly) amusing.
    â€œNo,” Blake sighed, waiting for the bowl and the ice and the cloth, “I don’t.”

 
    Five
    Amtrak wasn’t horrible.
    Blake had expected to dislike a twenty-hour train ride through the vanilla-bland Midwest. Instead he had been pleasantly surprised; the countryside was beautiful, the food wasn’t dreadful, and the sleeper cars were equal parts efficient and interesting.
    After a pleasant night, he felt refreshed and ready to solve problems as the train slid into the station. He pulled down a bag for the thirtysomething redhead in the seat opposite his and automatically flirted back when she made appreciative noises. He counted the freckles sprayed across her nose while they chatted, and instantly thought of many more uses for a sleeper car. The slow glide, the gentle rocking back and forth while the cars wound their way through the countryside as he figured out where to touch and when, and how gently or … not gently. He walked with her off the train and bid her farewell, not a little reluctantly.
    Business first, he reminded himself as he found himself in Sweetheart, North Dakota.
    Well, not