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Ten minutes later, I skidded to a halt in front of her cabin. After three calming deep breaths in and out, I shoved the driver door open wide and climbed out. There was nothing to be nervous about, but then again there was. I didn’t give two thoughts to her panic attack yesterday, but sometimes women were funky about stuff like that, getting all embarrassed and then shutting down. Hopefully Alta was different.

At the front door, I raised my fist to knock, but loud voices and cackles of laughter stilled my hand. Whatever they were doing inside, it sounded like they were having a good time. At eight in the fucking morning.

The door rattled beneath my fist.

One second, I waited.

Two seconds.

I pounded against the door again.

A click, then another and another before the door swung open. Peters stood in the doorway, the door open only wide enough for his body to block the rest of the cabin from view, with a devilish grin. “Oh hey. Was wondering when you’d finally decide to wake up.”

A blip of uncertainty that I hadn’t felt since high school had me tucking my injured hand behind my back. What in the hell were they doing in there?

“Move,” I grunted as I dug a shoulder into his bare chest. I took everything in at once, but peace settled my raging thoughts the second my eyes landed on her. Sitting on the couch, feet tucked under her and wearing the marines sweatshirt I lent her the day before. I smirked.

“Hey,” Alta said with a smile while twirling the end of her ponytail between her fingers. “I was beginning to wonder if you were ever coming back.”

“It’s eight in the morning, you two, not noon,” I grumbled, leaning against the counter so I could keep an eye on her and one on him.

“We’ve been up since five,” Peters said as he walked by. Plopping on the couch beside her, he leaned back and laid his head next to her thighs.

I bit back the swarm of pain that pulsed from my injured hand as my fists clenched in fury. Too close. Way to close to my Lady.

“We’ve been on a run, had breakfast, fed the dog.” Peters rolled his head to look up at Alta. “Okay, new category. Ladies choice.”

Eyes to the ceiling like she was deep in thought, Alta gnawed on the side of her thumb. “Animals,” she said, smiling.

“Fine. Is it a mammal?”

“Yes.”

“Does it run on four legs?”

“No,” Alta giggled.

What game were they even playing?

“Does it fly?”

“No.”

“Does it hop?”

“Yes,” Alta groaned and thumped her head against the back of the couch.

“I’m telling you, Birdie, I’m the best at this game. Doesn’t help that you tell the world what you’re thinking through those beautiful eyes of yours.” Peters shot a look across the room that told me he knew everything that went down yesterday between her and me. “You don’t hide your emotions well. You’re thinking of a kangaroo.”

“Unbelievable. You’re ten for ten,” Alta grumbled, clearly unhappy that he guessed correctly. “Let's play a new game. One I can win.”

“No,” I stated and stepped into the middle of the living room. “His shift’s up. Time to go, fucker.”

Peters nestled into the worn couch. “I’m quite comfortable, actually. Birdie here is quite the host, even though you said otherwise.”

“Hey,” Alta exclaimed, looking hurt.

“I didn’t say—” I rubbed my hand down my face in frustration, but the second the smooth cotton bandages slid down my forehead, I jerked it down.