Summer dripped a few drops of the testing solution into her water sample and set the bottle down on the counter next to the TV in her hotel room. Scowling, she stepped back and sat down on the scratchy hotel quilt. It would take fifteen minutes to get results, even with her lab-quality tools.

She’d expected to do her tests in the field and would have if that game warden hadn’t interrupted her. Summer crossed her legs and frowned at his memory. Chance Baker was everything she disliked in a man. Big, burly, Neanderthal, alpha male country boy types made her cringe.

She liked sensitive artists or fellow scientists as a rule. She’d even dated a few guys from the protest group she was part of, but like with most men, it just hadn’t worked out.

Summer was a strong, independent woman with a stubborn, sassy streak that the men she dated just couldn’t deal with.

Chance Baker was so big and brawny, with cords of roped muscles running up his arms and bulging through his uniform shirt, he looked like he could take just about anything Summer could throw at him. The image of those arms wrapped around her waist, his big hands running over her curves, made her tingle all over.

She bit her lip as she squirmed, her panties dampening at his memory. Damn it! This was not the reason she’d come to the mountains. She needed to find evidence to prove to the authorities that the copper mine was polluting the water. Without her, the water, the people, and the forest were in danger. She had to focus.

Summer stood and lifted the bottle of water, checking it against the test strip colors. Dark brown. The arsenic was at dangerously high levels. One sip of this water could kill a man instantly. She’d expected to find evidence of arsenic in the water, but not this much. Anger surged in her belly as she gripped the glass bottle.

A knock rapped at the door, and she jumped. Setting the bottle on the counter, she strode over to the door and swung it open, expecting to find room service. Instead she found him…

“Ma’am,” he said, tipping his black cowboy hat.

“What?” she barked.

He drew back like she’d bit him. Then he frowned and stepped forward, blocking out the sun with his massive body.

“I need to ask you a few questions about Balor Von’s death. The investigation has been elevated to homicide as there are clear signs of poisoning.”

“No shit,” she said, stepping out of the way and slapping her hand against her curvy thigh.

He came into the room, the doorway almost too small for him to pass through comfortably. Standing in her little hotel room, he seemed to suck up all the light and air in the space.

“Summer Madison, I’d appreciate you checking your tone. You’re lucky you aren’t being arrested under suspicion.”

“That would really help your investigation, I’m sure,” she said sarcastically. “Since I’m the one who told you he’d been murdered. Look at this test bottle of water from the river. Five hundred thousand parts per million arsenic molecules. Do you have any idea how high that is?”

“Not really.”

“Well, it’s extremely high. Any living thing that came in contact with that much arsenic would die instantly.”

“The pool near where Balor died is a popular fishing spot for shifters around here,” Chance said, his tone softening.

“That’s exactly where I took the sample,” she said, setting it back on the table. “The copper mine must be letting every ounce of wastewater runoff into the river at those rates.”

“What makes you so sure it’s runoff from the copper mine?” Chance asked.

Summer scowled. How could he be so blind? Of course it was the copper mine. This had been exactly the evidence she’d been looking for.

“Copper mines use arsenic in their smelting process. Arsenic poisoning from wastewater runoff is a common historical problem in Montana. I thought everyone knew that.”

“Nope,” he said, taking his hat off.

Summer sighed. This guy was not the brightest bulb in the bunch. That didn’t keep her body from exploding with need just looking at him. What’s wrong with me? She had to get her hormones under control. Being attracted to a back country hick was not going to help her bring down the corporate mining system.

“Anyway, copper mines have contaminated whole areas because of their lazy wastewater management practices.”

“But you did say ‘historical,’ meaning a long time ago.”

“Yes, but that doesn’t change anything.”

“We’ll look into the copper mine. Since you’re an expert, the sheriff wants you to consult on this case. We looked into your background and agreed that you aren’t a suspect.”

“You did a background check on me?” she asked, irritated. She didn’t want him to know about her past. The idea of Chance looking into her personal life made her face burn. She bristled, wondering why she cared what he knew about her.

“You’re an antiestablishment, hippie protestor. You’ve come out in highly vocal support of shifters. There’s no reason to believe you are a suspect in a poisoning murder.”

“I’m not a hippie. I’m simply informed.”

Chance reached out and picked up one of her dyed, red dreadlocks. When his fingertips brushed the exposed flesh on her shoulder, her entire body came alive as an electric shock ran up and down her spine.

“What do you call these?”

“My hairstyle has nothing to do with it.”

“I bet you’re a vegetarian,” he said, smirking.

“Vegan.”

The half-smile turned into a full-blown grin. She hadn’t seen Chance smile since they’d met, and it lit up the room, illuminating the dark corners. She gasped and bit her lip, not wanting him to see how he affected her.

“My eating habits don’t have anything to do with it, either. Geeze, you know people are as ignorant about vegans as they are about shifters?”

“Hey,” he said, stepping back with a chuckle. “I like vegetables. I’ve been growing my own ever since I got back from Iraq.”

Summer crossed her arms over her full breasts, not expecting that from the big man. Gardening, huh? Maybe he wasn’t as bad as she thought.

“You should taste my huckleberries. Best in the state.”

“Huckleberries?”

Chance frowned and rubbed the back of his neck as if he was embarrassed. “Um. Yes. Some of the local ladies like to make jam from it. Bertha McLaren wins at the county fair every year. You can buy her homemade jam at her shop in town.”

“I’ll have to check that out,” she said, eyeing him. Is that flirting? She couldn’t tell.

“Well, ma’am. I’d like you to come down to the station so I can get your formal statement, and you can meet the sheriff. He wants to speak with you before we begin working on the case.”

“So I’ll be working with you?” she asked, a thrill sparking in her belly.