by Jenn Sable
“Unless you’re giving Fancy and Frank an apple or a scratch behind the ears, stay away from my horses. You wouldn’t know the first thing about how to take care of my babies. Plus, I’ve arranged to have them transported and boarded at the same horse farm that Kaylee is boarding her horse since she’s coming with us.”
I shook my head. “You girls are so spoiled,” I said and marveled at how much our lives changed since Sammie became a Brocker.
“We really are,” said Abby as she looked at Rose.
Rose nodded. “Sammie did well. She married a Clear Creek billionaire. Now, all you need to do is marry a Bloombury millionaire, and then Abby and I really won’t ever have to worry.”
I sputtered a laugh. “Yeah, okay. I’ll get right on that. It’s more likely that I’ll become a millionaire myself before I marry one.”
Abby arched an eyebrow. “You could get on it tonight. Maxwell Palmer is positively itching to take you on a date, and I think half the men in Bloombury are scared to ask you out in fear of making the Bloombury College President's son angry.”
A sound of disgust erupted from my throat. “The only reason Maxwell Palmer is itching is that he has an STD. The guy is a creep, and I was forced to spend more time than I wanted to with him in France, when we studied abroad that semester in college.”
“Are you judging someone for being young and sexually active? Because the last time I checked, you mentioned that one-night stands were all that you were looking for,” said Rose, eying me curiously.
I scowled. “I don’t judge people for their sexual appetites, but Maxwell is often pushy with girls and will plie his dates with alcohol or whatever else he can get his hands on to loosen their inhibitions.”
A chill wrapped its icy hands around my heart, and I shuddered. “He makes my skin crawl. And, no, I don't care if people sleep around safely and with consent. Two words that Max needs to brush up on. Obviously, I don't judge people for having causal sex—”
“I was going to say, remember that cute Australian guy who checked into the inn two years ago on El's twenty-first birthday and then never slept in his room?” snickered Abby.
I leveled her with a look. “As I was saying, I'm not against casual sex; it just doesn't necessarily mean that I have lots of it myself. I'm too busy for sex, and goodness knows I'm not getting myself entangled in relationship,” I said and waved my hand in the air as though I were swatting an annoying gnat, instead of talking about bodily pleasure and a significant other.
“Oh, we know,” said Rose.
Abby smiled. “We can tell.”
“Maybe over the next few weeks, since you’ll have the inn to yourself, you could make a little friend and work through some of your tension. We’d all appreciate it,” said Rose, being one hundred percent serious.
Rose had a point, but I refused to discuss my sex life, or lack thereof, with my little sisters. Rose and Abby had finally turned twenty a few months ago, but in my mind, they would be fourteen forever.
I changed the subject. “Would you look at the time! It’s almost ten AM. Okay you two, I think you’re going to be late for brunch,” I said, herding the twins out of my room.
Downstairs I started going through the regular motions of a typical morning so the twins wouldn’t catch onto the state of my frazzled nerves. The last thing that I needed was for those two to start asking more questions about my eventful morning. I put the tea kettle on the stove, peeled two mandarin oranges, and acted nonchalant when the twins bustled through the kitchen.
“Do you want us to bring you back any real breakfast food, health freak? Or is citrus juice gonna do it for you?” asked Rose, pulling her long hair into a ponytail.
I narrowed in on her ears. “Are those my favorite purple earrings?” I asked, then snapped my attention to Abby. “And is that my favorite yellow scarf?” Honestly, is nothing sacred in this house?
Rose pushed Abby through the kitchen and dodged my questions. “Oh, look at the time. You were right, El. We’re almost late for brunch. Text us if you want something more than green tea and mandarin oranges,” said Rose. She rushed to collect her keys and purse from the edge of the kitchen counter.
The second the kitchen door slammed shut and Rose and Abby were out of sight, I bounded up the steps and dove for my cell. I'd remained calm and collected on the outside while the twins were still in the house, but inside, a storm of emotions raged through me that spanned from mortification to anger. From, “how could I have mixed up the contact names?” to “how dare he block my number without letting me explain.”
I sat on the edge of my bed and forced myself to breathe calmly and reread the horrendous text thread. My pulsed jumped at Troy’s response. I’d been so focused on the scandalous photo of my intimate parts, which were barely covered by a thin layer of silky material and taken from a horrifyingly intimate angle, that I’d almost skipped over his response completely.
State Trooper: Permission to do what exactly?
His response had my full attention now.
What was he insinuating? What was he doing up at 3:15 AM? Did he also wake up this morning and scratch his head wondering, what the hell was going on?
Or worse, did Troy think I was propositioning him? Oh, God. Because if one read his response from the perspective of a man getting a text from a woman in the middle of the night, it almost seemed as if . . . he was curious? Intrigued? Interested? Ugh, no, he wasn’t! Troy is in love with Sam and has been years. One crotch-shot pic of mine wasn’t going to give him a sudden change of heart.
I might need something stronger than green tea this morning.
Deleting the text thread and pretending like it had never happened seemed like the most appropriate course of action. Now that Sam was married and the twins were in college, I rarely crossed paths with Troy Witmer when he wasn’t with a group of Brockers or on official business. He was closer to my sisters, and I assured myself that I wouldn’t see the man again for months. By then these ridiculous texts would be long forgotten, like last week’s weather report.
Feeling better about the Troy situation, I started rattling through my to-do list. It was Friday, and for the first time in a long time, I only had a few emails and phone calls to make. All of which could be easily accomplished after a short trail run. My body carved movement to work out some of my pent-up stress. Trail running and any time spent in nature always helped me recharge and refocus. After the run, I’d look over the numbers for next week’s big marketing meeting with Winnie and Chloe and get ready to meet the new mass-production sales rep. There were always so many things to do and look forward to as a business owner.
Besides, who needs a sex life when you can run out your body’s stresses in nature? Who needs a significant other when you can devote yourself to a full-time career? And who needs a Friday night date when you can simply pour yourself a glass of wine and settle with Netflix?
I quickly pulled on sporty purple and black yoga pants, a sports bra, and a black-and-white T-shirt with a drawing of a meditating Buddha and the phrase “Let That Shit Go” scrawled underneath. Yes, letting all this shit go.
Tires sounded over gravel outside, and a slow-moving vehicle made its way up the drive toward the inn. Hmm, interesting. I’m not expecting anyone at the inn today, guest or otherwise. I peeked through my bedroom curtains and almost landed on the floor again. It was a state police cruiser and when it rolled to a stop. Officer Troy Witmer’s muscled frame stepped out.
Chapter 2 - Troy
I had messed up last night, and now the universe was punishing me for it with a perfectly timed report of suspicious noises coming from the Evans Sisters’ Inn. I deserved it. I’d handled last night's text from El very poorly. An awkward apology was in order, but at least I didn’t have to do it in front of an audience. I had just waved to the twins as they pulled out onto Preacher Road and I turned onto their lane.
Last night, El’s texts pulled me out of a fitful sleep on my couch straight into a rock-solid
hard-on. Which was a less than ideal considering I had two house guests that I hadn’t planned on having—my mom, Judy and my sister, Meg. Their visit was turning more into a transition back to the area, and since the cabin only had two bedrooms, it had left me out in the living room, sleeping on an old, lumpy couch with very little privacy. I was used to living a private, stag lifestyle. It figured that I'd get the text of a lifetime while I felt under the watchful eye of my mom and little sister.
The sexy as hell photo shocked the shit out of me. At first glance, I thought the photo was of April Kline, an ex of mine who’d I'd heard was back in town. Then I realized it was far too innocent looking to be a sext from April. I’d made the mistake of hooking up with her a few years ago while she was home visiting. The morning after our one-night stand, April rolled out of my bed, opened her purse, and dug out an engagement ring. I sat there dumbfounded as she slid it on her left-hand ring finger then proceeded to pick up her discarded panties off the floor. It was a total turn off and made me feel like shit. To my astonishment it didn’t seem to bother April; she explained that her wedding was a business move, not a love connection and that indiscretions were tolerated, if kept quiet.
I, however, was not a cheater.
I knew that most married couples didn’t make it into their golden years together, but I never wanted to be part of the reason why they didn’t. It was no secret that my love was given one night at a time, which worked best with my job as a state trooper and my career goals to climb the ranks within the force. But I did believe in the sanctity of marriage for other people.
It didn’t matter, though; the dye was already cast and I was done with April.
But there was something different about last night’s photo; it was special. It was sexy as hell yet not posed for in the fake fashion most sexts were. At least not from what I had personally experienced with sexting.
This pic captured my attention and my imagination. Most of all, it took the breath from my lungs. Seeing Eloise Evan’s name at the top caused all the nerve endings in my body to buzz and my shaft to stand at full attention. This girl had gone from being an angsty, brooding, unkempt teen to a humorous, cultured, and gorgeous woman.
All the blood in my body pooled to my dick, and I thought that I was about to have a teenage moment and come in my pants. I texted her back to tease her and was intrigued where the conversation could lead without giving the fact that I’d used my work cell a second thought.
The reality check came after I hit send, and I realized that I’d just crossed streams between work and play. But what now? It was done. I’d plead the truth, which was: temporary insanity, a medical malfunction brought on by lack of blood flow to the brain due to a painfully hard erection over a beautiful woman.
Those smooth thighs and the pink, heart-shaped birthmark that pointed the way to thin, lacey, pale-purple panties that covered the sweet folds of her womanhood were a feast for my hungry eyes. Topped with the knowledge that it was El, it took my breath away. I had been stealing glances at her for months, but now I stared, unblinking at the photo and held onto my cell so tightly, it was a miracle I didn’t bust the thing in half.
It physically hurt when I deleted the image. I won’t lie; I considered snapping a photo of it with my personal cell. But, I’d made up my mind years earlier that I’d do whatever it took to live life with a clear conscience. El’s pic still tempted me to question my core principles and break my own rules. She tempted me in more ways than I’d like to admit.
This morning, as I considered how best to reach out to El, Captain Kelleher called the barracks.
“Troy, if you're serious about moving up through the ranks of the force and aspire to honor your father's legacy, then you need to consider putting in for a transfer to the Pike Patrol on the eastern side of the state as soon as possible. I'm not sure why you're dragging your feet. This is the opportunity you've been waiting for and I don't know when a chance like this will roll around again,” said Captain.
My career path seemed so straightforward and clear ten years ago, and now I balked at the idea of changing from my current position, but I didn’t have much choice anymore. I was thirty-two with twelve years of experience in the state police. If I wanted to reach high ranks by my mid to late-forties, then now was the time to start making strategic moves.
A Pike Patrol transfer made sense. The transfer would provide me with more opportunities to make connections within the force, and most importantly, give me a chance to showcase my grit in the field and devotion to my work. All of which would help me make my dad proud, even from beyond the grave, by becoming a deputy commissioner like he’d wanted. But it seemed bittersweet since Mom and Meg were getting ready to move back to Frost Forest, and Mom and I were actually talking after several rough years of broken communication. This transfer dropped in my lap when my ties to Frost Forest seemed to be deepening.
I scrubbed a hand over my face as the captain praised me for my perfect record of professional conduct while I inwardly groaned, as I thought about El’s texts to my work cell and how I’d responded.
On the barrack phone line with Captain, I glanced at my cell when it buzzed with a new message from El. I thought for sure that she’d tell me the 3AM texts were a mistake and call me a jerk for my questionable response. My brain melted when I saw El’s text and read that the photo was for me only.
Unfortunately, she kept texting my work cell. I cringed each time I thought about what the department heads might say about our text thread if they did a tech scan. I’d already deleted her sexy photo off the phone, so the only option I could think of to get El to stop texting my work cell was to block her. Which I did, as my captain continued to praise my professionalism over the phone.
The whole situation was absurd, El was a young free-spirited, twenty-something, and I was too experienced, and on my way out of Frost Forest to get mixed up with that beautiful temptation. I had to talk with El as soon as possible before things got worse, so after I hung up with the captain I jumped in my cruiser with the noise complaint and headed to the inn.
I climbed the inn's wide front porch steps, noise complaint in hand, and knocked on the door. Typically, I used the side kitchen door when Sam or the twins were home. After considering the current delicate situation and the official state police business I had to attend to first, I opted for the formal front entrance.
I barely had time to lower my hand from knocking when the door was forcefully pulled open, and El Evans appeared in the doorway. Her dark eyes flashed with fury and locked with mine. We held each other’s gaze’s captive for a breath. Fuck, she’s gorgeous. She's like a human storm, strong, electric, a little frighteningly beautiful.
Her long, dark curls were wild and gave her an otherworldly appearance, like a sexy damn woodland fairy. I wondered what it would be like to slide my fingers through it, fist it and tug on it until she raised her lips to mine. El's dark-honey eyes snapped with emotion, and her smooth, olive complexion drove me wild with the desire to see every inch of it.
I automatically glanced down at the apex of her thighs and pictured that sweet little birthmark, those creamy thighs, and the soft mound between them. Calm down, tiger. You’re coming in hot and haven’t even said hello yet.
Her full mouth settled into a firm line and her brows pinched together. Oh shit, she just saw me look at her crotch. El and her crotch looked quite enticing in her sporty, curve-hugging yoga pants.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, hand on the soft sway of her hip.
It was evident that she wasn’t pleased to see me, and I tipped my broad-brimmed hat off my head so that I appeared more approachable. “Hello, Eloise,” I said, and a slow, unstoppable half-smile pulled at one corner of my lips when I said her name.
Her molten-honey eyes fell to my mouth and narrowed slightly. Whatever she’d been thinking had her positively radiating with life, and when she snapped her gaze back up to mine, I felt the full force of her allure. Fuck, I can’t think stra
ight when she’s got all that intensity shining in her eyes.
“Officer Witmer,” she said, and sharply inclined her head. Officer Witmer? No Troy, today? She was using anger to cover up her embarrassment over the text. Why was she so angry, though? Because she’s embarrassed that she accidentally messaged me, or the unthinkable, because her messages actually were meant for me and she thinks I rejected her?
I cleared my throat and started again. “Good morning, El. There’s been a report of suspicious noises coming from your residence. So, I’m here to check on you.”
She dipped her chin and raised skeptical brows. “You’ve got to be kidding me, that’s ridiculous. I think you’ve got the wrong place. I’m the only one here, and I’m fine, so maybe you could try the Armor estate. I think someone just moved in not too long ago. I’d try that place,” she said, rolled her eyes and started to close the front door.
“Let me read you the report, and then maybe you can help me determine where else these suspicious noises could’ve possibly come from,” I said and unfolded the copy of the report I had been holding and started reading from it.
“Caller indicated that at 9:38 AM, a female voice was heard yelling from a second-floor window at this address: Help. El’s dead. Call the police. This was followed immediately by another female’s voice yelling: Don’t you dare call the police.” I refolded the report and looked up from underneath my brows. “I’m glad to see that you’re alive and well, El.”
She folded her arms but didn’t meet my gaze. “Clearly, our new neighbor doesn’t understand our sense of humor or our funny little sisterly ways over here,” she said, wiggling her fingers through the air.
I smiled and arched a brow. “El, can we talk?”
Her arms dropped down to her side, and our eyes connected. “I’ve had a bit of a trying day so far,” she said in a softer tone, and it pleased me that I’d finally gotten past her anger.
“Didn’t sleep well last night?” I’m such a jerk.
