by Cindi Myers
“Why? Lots of people get married while they’re still in school. I wouldn’t have held you back.”
“You would have, even if you didn’t intend to.” She shifted in her chair, trying to find the words to make him see. “You know my family places a lot of value on education and being successful in whatever you choose to do,” she said.
“I think most families are like that,” he said.
“Yes, but mine especially so. My mother has a PhD, did you know that? In entomology. And my father has built the Walking W into one of the largest and most successful ranches in the state. Travis is the youngest sheriff our county has ever had, and Gage is a decorated officer with a wall full of commendations.”
“I wouldn’t have held you back,” he said again.
“You were established in a job that could require you to move across the state at any time,” she said. “In fact, you did move, right after we broke up.”
“The department takes spouse’s jobs into consideration,” he said, for all the world as if he was making an argument all over again for her to marry him.
“You weren’t ready to settle down,” she said. “Not really.”
“How do you know?” he asked.
She straightened. Why not come out and say what she had been thinking? “If you really loved me so much, you would have tried harder to persuade me to accept your proposal. Instead, after I said no, you simply walked away.”
He stood and began to pace, his boot heels striking hard on the wood floor. “Did you really expect me to browbeat you into changing your decision—or worse, to beg?” He raked a hand through his hair and whirled to face her. “Did you ever think that I didn’t walk away because I didn’t love you, but because I respected you enough to know your own mind?”
His words—and the emotion behind them—hit her like a blow, knocking the breath from her. “I...I still don’t think we were ready to marry,” she managed to stammer. “So many other things could have happened to tear us apart.”
“Like what?” His gaze burned into her, daring her to look away. “What would be so bad our love wouldn’t have been enough to overcome it?”
She wet her lips and pushed on. “What if I’d gotten pregnant?”
“We’d have been careful, taken precautions.”
“We didn’t always do that before, did we?”
He stared at her, and she saw doubt crowd out defiance. He studied her, eyes full of questions. “Emily, is there something you’re not telling me?” he asked, his voice so low she had to lean forward to catch all his words.
She was not going to cry. If she started, she might never stop. “I told you I wrote to you after you moved,” she said, speaking slowly and carefully.
“And I told you, I never received your letter.” He sank onto the edge of the bed once more, as if his legs would no longer support him. “Did you really think I would ignore you?”
“I didn’t know. I didn’t know what to think.”
“What did the letter say?”
She sighed. Did this really matter now? It did to her—but would it to him? “After you left, I found out I was pregnant,” she said.
“Emily.” Just her name, said so softly, with such tenderness and sorrow the sound almost broke her. She blinked furiously, but couldn’t hold back the tears. “My parents, of course, were very upset. Travis was furious. He’s the one who insisted I contact you, though at first I refused.”
“Why didn’t you want me to know?” he asked. “I would have done the right thing. I already wanted to marry you.”
“That’s exactly why I didn’t want you to know,” she said. “I was going to have a baby, but I still didn’t want to be married. And I didn’t want you to marry me because you had to. It felt like I was trapping you into something I couldn’t believe was right for either one of us.”
He leaned forward and took her hand, his fingers warm and gentle as he wrapped them around her palm. “What happened to the baby?” He swallowed. “To our baby?”
“I’m getting to that.” She took a deep breath, steadying herself, but not pulling away from him. “My father finally persuaded me that you had a right to know you were going to be a father. So I tried to call and your number had changed. I wrote and the first letter came back, so Travis got your information from the CBI. The second letter didn’t come back. I thought that meant you’d received it and decided to ignore it.”
“I never would have ignored it.” He moved from the bed to his knees in front of her. “I wouldn’t ignore you.”
“I was going to try to contact you again, but then...” She swallowed again. “Then I lost the baby.”
He said nothing, only squeezed her hand and put his other hand on her knee.
She closed her eyes, the sadness and confusion and, yes, relief of those days rising up in her once more like water filling a well. “The doctor said it wasn’t anything I’d done—that these things just happen sometimes. I was sad, but relieved, too. I went back to school and went on with my life. We...we never talked about what had happened again.”
“Did Gage know this?” he asked, thinking of his conversation with Gage at the bonfire.
She shook her head. “No. He was away at school and then summer school. He knew that something had happened with us, but he never knew about the baby. Just my parents and Travis. I—It felt easier, the fewer people who knew.”
“I would have wanted to know.” He stroked her arm. “I would have wanted to be there for you.”
She nodded, crying quietly now, more comforted by his sympathy than she could have imagined.
“No wonder Travis insists on keeping everything strictly business between us. He thinks I deserted you and our baby when you needed me most.” He looked her in the eye, his gaze searching. “I wouldn’t have done that, Emily. Never in a million years. I’m sick, hearing about this now.”
She put her hand on his shoulder. “I believe that now,” she said. Now that she had seen the real pain in his eyes. “I’m glad you know the truth. But we can’t go back and change the past. Both of us are different people now.”
“Different,” he said. “Yet the same.” His eyes locked to hers and she felt a surge of emotion, like a wave crashing over her. Brodie still attracted her as no other man ever had. But she was no longer the naive, trusting girl she had been five years ago. She didn’t believe in fairy tales, or that either she or Brodie were perfect for each other.
But she did believe in perfect moments, and seizing them. She leaned toward him, and he welcomed her into his arms. She closed her eyes and pressed her lips to his, losing herself in sensation—the scent of him, herbal soap and warm male; the reassuring strength of him, holding her so securely; the taste of him, faintly salty, as she broke the kiss to trace her tongue along his throat.
“I don’t want to let you go just yet,” he said.
“I’m not going anywhere.” She kissed him again, arching her body to his.
“Stay with me tonight,” he murmured, his lips caressing her ear.
“Yes.” She began to unbutton his shirt, kissing each inch of skin as it was exposed, peeling back the fabric to expose muscular shoulders and a perfectly sculpted chest. She pressed her lips over one taut nipple and he groaned, then dragged her away and began tugging at her clothes.
She laughed as he fumbled with her bra strap. “I never could get the hang of these things,” he muttered as she pushed his hands away and removed the garment herself.
Together, they finished undressing and moved to the bed, where they lay facing each other, hands and eyes exploring. “You’re even more beautiful than I remember,” he said as he traced the curve of her hip.
“Mmm.” She kissed her way along his shoulder, smiling to herself as she thought that he was exactly as she remembered him—strong and male and exciting. He slid his hands up her thighs, calluses
dragging on her smooth skin. The heat of his fingers pressed into her soft flesh, and into the wetness between her legs.
He leaned into her, the hard ridge of his erection against her stomach making her gasp. He caught the sound in his mouth, his lips closing hungrily over hers, his fingers moving higher, parting her hot folds.
She squirmed and moaned, the sound muffled by the liquid heat of his tongue tangling with her own. He dipped his head to kiss her breasts—butterfly touches of his lips over and around the swelling flesh—then latched onto her sensitive, distended nipple, sucking hard, the pulling sensation reaching all the way to her groin, where she tightened around his plunging finger.
He slid his finger out of her and gripped her thighs, spreading her wide, cool air rushing across her hot, wet flesh, sending a fresh wave of arousal through her. “What do you want?” he whispered, his voice rough, as if he was fighting for control.
“I want you.”
He leaned across her and jerked open the drawer of the bedside table. When he returned, he had a condom packet in his hand. He ripped it open with his teeth and smoothed on the sheath, then pushed her gently onto her back. “Are you ready?”
She nodded. More than ready.
He drove hard, but held her so gently, his fingers stroking, caressing, even as his hips pumped. The sensation of him filling her, stretching her, moving inside her, made her dizzy. “Don’t stop,” she gasped. “Please don’t stop.”
“I won’t stop. I promise I won’t stop.” She slid her hands around to cup his bottom, marveling at the feel of his muscles contracting and relaxing with each powerful thrust.
He slipped his hand between them and began to fondle her, each deft move sending the tension within her coiling tighter. He kissed the soft flesh at the base of her throat. “I want to make it good for you,” he murmured. “So good.”
She sensed him holding back, waiting for her. When her climax overtook her, he swallowed her cries, then mingled them with his own as his release shuddered through them both.
“I’m glad you stopped fighting this,” he said.
“I wasn’t fighting,” she said.
“You kept pushing me away.”
Only because he had such power over her—power to make her forget herself. She didn’t trust his motives—or her own.
Chapter Thirteen
Emily woke the next morning with the sun in her eyes and a smile on her face. Last night with Brodie had been better than her best fantasies—and better than she remembered from their younger alliance. There was something to be said for a little maturity when it came to sex.
She had remembered to text Lacy before she went to sleep last night, letting her know she was tucked in safely for the night, in case her friend worried. But she hadn’t mentioned she was spending the night with Brodie. For now, she wanted to keep that information to herself. But she supposed she should get back to her own cabin soon, in case someone came looking for her.
She rolled over to face Brodie, who lay asleep on his back, dark stubble emphasizing the strong line of his jaw, his sensuous lips slightly parted. She was just about to lean over and give him a big kiss when pounding on the door shook the cabin. “Brodie, wake up!” a man shouted.
Brodie sat up, instantly alert. “Who is it?” he called.
“It’s Travis,” Emily whispered, even as her brother identified himself.
“Quick, go in the bathroom.” Brodie urged her toward the one interior door in the cabin, then swung his feet to the floor and reached for the jeans he’d discarded last night.
Emily gathered the sheet around her and shuffled to the bathroom, only partially closing the door and positioning herself so that she could see out. Brodie opened the door and Travis—scarily pressed and polished as always—said, “They’ve found Lynn Wallace’s car.”
“Where?” Brodie held the door partially closed and stepped back. Emily realized he was attempting to kick the clothing she had left on the floor under the bed.
Travis frowned and tried to move into the cabin, but Brodie blocked the move. “Never mind. You can give me all the details on the way there. Just give me a minute to get dressed.”
Brodie tried to shut the door, but Travis pushed past him. “What are you trying to hide?” he asked.
“Nothing, I—” Brodie protested, but Emily had heard enough. She moved out of the bathroom, still clutching the sheet around her.
“Brodie is trying to be a gentleman and hide me,” she said. “But there’s no need for that. We’re all adults here.”
Travis’s face turned white, then red. “Emily, what do you think you’re doing?” he finally snapped out.
As gracefully as she could, she bent and retrieved her clothes from the floor. “I’m going to get dressed so that I can come with you to look at Lynn’s car.”
“You are not coming with us,” Travis said.
“I’m part of the investigative team,” she said. “I want to see where the car was left and what kind of condition it’s in. That may help me reach some more conclusions about Alex.” Plus, she knew how annoyed Travis would be at having her push her way in like this. Her brother was a good man, but he was far too uptight, and she saw it as her duty to force him to loosen up a little.
“We don’t need a civilian at a potential crime scene,” Travis said.
“You can ride with me, but you have to stay in the vehicle until I clear you to get out,” Brodie said.
Travis glared at him, no doubt perturbed at having Brodie overrule him. But Brodie didn’t work for Travis, so Emily supposed he could make his own decisions.
“Okay.” Clothes in hand, she turned back toward the bathroom.
“It is not okay,” Travis said.
“Just give me a minute to get dressed,” Brodie said. “I’m sure we can work this out.”
Smiling to herself, Emily shut the bathroom door behind her. Later, she was sure she’d have to endure a lecture from her brother about how she was making a big mistake getting back together with Brodie. And maybe he was right. But at least this time she was going into the relationship with her eyes wide open. She would have a good time with Brodie now, and avoid thinking about forever.
* * *
TRAVIS INSISTED THE three of them travel together in his sheriff’s department SUV. Brodie reluctantly agreed. He firmly believed in picking his battles, and arguing over how they were going to get to a crime scene wasn’t on his list for today. Not with the promise of a bigger fight looming, judging by the icy stare Travis kept giving him. Fine. The two of them could clear the air later, preferably when Emily wasn’t around.
As for the woman in question, Travis’s little sister looked smug and satisfied, which should have felt more gratifying than it did. Brodie wasn’t certain if she was so pleased with herself because of the fantastic sex they had enjoyed the night before—or because she’d managed to upset her usually unemotional brother.
Dwight met them at the barricade that blocked the still-closed road. He shifted the orange-and-white pylons to one side to allow Travis’s vehicle to pass, then walked up to meet them after Travis had parked behind Dwight’s cruiser.
Lynn Wallace’s white Volvo sat crookedly across the northbound lane, both front doors open. “The crew working to clear the road found it like this when they reported for work this morning,” Dwight said. “They left at about five o’clock yesterday, so someone drove it up here after that.”
“Were the doors open like that, or did they open them?” Travis asked.
“They said they were open,” Dwight said. “I think whoever dumped it here wanted to make sure it was noticed, and that people saw what was inside.”
“What was inside?” Emily asked. She was pale and looked a little frightened, but stood her ground.
“Not another body, thank goodness,” Dwight said. “Come take a look.”
“Emily, you stay back here,” Travis said.
“I won’t compromise your crime scene,” she said. “I know better than that.” Not waiting for an answer, she started toward the car, so that Travis had to hurry to catch up with and pass her.
Brodie followed more slowly, so that by the time he arrived at the car, the others were gathered around, bent over and peering into the open doors. Emily took a step back and motioned for him to move in ahead of her.
The white upholstery of the Volvo, both front and back seats, had been slashed, long diagonal cuts leaving leather hanging in strips, stuffing pulled out and spilling onto the floor. Dull red liquid lay in pools on the seats and dripped onto the floor. “It’s paint, not blood,” Dwight said. “Regular latex. Most of it is still wet, probably from the cold. I took photos when I arrived, but the snow around the vehicle was pretty churned up. I think all the construction guys probably had a look.”
The car’s windshield had been smashed, the glass a spiderweb of cracks, green glass pebbles that had broken off from the cracks glittering on the dash.
Brodie rejoined Emily a short distance from the car. She stood with her arms folded across her stomach, staring at the pavement. “Are you okay?” he asked softly.
She nodded, but didn’t speak until Travis joined them. “Alex is really angry,” she said, looking at her brother. “Enraged. And he’s coming apart.”
“You think Alex did this?” Travis asked.
“Yes. I’m not an expert, but I think doing this, leaving the car up here like this, where it was sure to be found, he’s sending you a message.”
“What kind of message?” Brodie asked.
She glanced at him, then back at her brother. “The next woman he goes after, I think it’s going to be more violent.”
