by Susan Stoker, Cristin Harber, Cora Seton, Lynn Raye Harris, Kaylea Cross, Katie Reus, Tessa Layne
“This is really good, thanks,” Austen murmured when she’d swallowed the mouthful. Her tongue darted out to lick some sauce from her lower lip and all he could think about was reaching across the table to slide his fingers into her hair and do the licking for her.
That was never going to happen, since she was technically his boss and that would spell disaster. Besides, he wasn’t relationship material. He’d closed himself off from everyone but family, and didn’t know if he’d ever be ready to open himself up again.
“You’re welcome. It’s a lot better than what I’m capable of in this kitchen, that’s for sure.” He could boil pasta and heat up jarred sauce, but he’d wanted to feed her better food than that.
She raised her wineglass to her mouth with her right hand and again his gaze caught on the ring on her third finger. It looked like an engagement ring but he wasn’t sure what it signified that she didn’t wear it on her left hand.
“What brought you to Sugar Hollow, anyway?” he asked.
She shrugged, drawing his attention to the way the top of her dress pulled taut over her breasts. “I was looking for some place small and quaint to settle down in.” Twirling up more pasta, she added, “I’m here to start over.”
Running from a bad relationship? The thought ignited a spark of anger in his gut. If some asshole had hurt her or scared her so much that she’d left Philadelphia and come here to start over, then—
“I lost my fiancé a couple years ago. I’d planned to stay in Philly, but as the months went by I felt the need to go someplace new, away from everything.”
Oh. Hell. “I’m sorry.”
She nodded, forced a smile. “Thanks.” She glanced at the ring on her finger, frowned a little as her thumb toyed with it. “He was a firefighter too, but we were on different crews. I got a call on my first night off after finishing a rotation, saying that his crew had been responding to a fire when part of the ceiling had collapsed on them.” She drew a breath, let it out slowly. “He held on for a couple of days, then…”
Unable to keep from touching her, he reached across the table to grip her hand, gave it a squeeze. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to talk about it.”
“No, it’s okay.” She met his eyes, her fingers curling around his in a warm grip. “Losing him was the hardest thing I’ve ever gone through, but thankfully it doesn’t hurt as much as it used to. I’ve mostly learned to live with his memory, instead of letting it tear me apart. And it’s easier for me to talk to you about it because you didn’t know him.”
Yeah, and he also knew what loss felt like. First his mom, then his Marine brothers and Raider. It sucked each and every time, plain and simple.
Nodding, he squeezed her hand gently before releasing it, a part of him wishing he had a reason to hold on instead. “It fades, but it never goes away.”
She blew out a breath. “Exactly.” She took another sip of wine. “Anyway, that’s how I ended up here. John and I used to flip houses on the side. Smaller projects, nothing like the one you and I are working on now. We’d always dreamed of renovating a Victorian. So when I saw the Miller place and found out the owners were willing to sell, I used the money from John’s life insurance policy and most of our savings to buy it.” She gave him a rueful smile. “Yep, I’m all in, for better or worse. But I never meant to buy it out from under you.”
He’d never expected this, hadn’t even considered she’d been through something like that. God, now he felt like a total jerkwad for the way he’d acted the first time he’d met her. “Honestly? If anyone besides me was going to end up with it, I’m glad it’s you. You deserve it and it suits you. We’re gonna restore it exactly the way you want.” He wouldn’t settle for anything less, out of professional pride, but especially now that he knew her story.
The corners of her mouth lifted in the hint of a smile. “That’s really big of you, Wyatt. I appreciate that.”
He shrugged, uncomfortable with the praise, and decided this was the perfect opportunity to change the subject. “You bring that list with you?”
“Right here,” she answered, pulling the papers out of her purse.
They were well into the second page when headlights flashed across the front window and the sound of a speeding vehicle broke the quiet. Frowning, Wyatt stood just as the driver plunged to a rocking stop out front.
As the driver flew out of the vehicle, Wyatt caught a glimpse of the man’s face in the glare of the headlights and a hard ball of dread clenched in the pit of his stomach.
“Stay here,” he told Austen, and immediately moved to intercept his unwelcome guest.
She turned in her seat but did as he said as he stalked to the front door. Greg was already on his way up the steps, but stopped when Wyatt came through the door. “What the hell are you doing here?” Wyatt demanded.
Greg had paused on the lower step but now he advanced, not stopping until he was face-to-face with Wyatt, only a few feet separating them. The former sheriff’s body was as tight as his expression, blue eyes narrowed in a menacing glare as he thrust an accusatory finger at Wyatt. “You stay the hell away from my wife.”
Huh? “She’s not your wife anymore,” he said quietly, barring Greg’s way to the door. This confrontation was a long time coming and Wyatt wasn’t about to back down from this pathetic asshole, even if he was sorry Austen had to witness it.
Greg paled at the verbal punch, then a flush of anger suffused his cheeks. Guy looked like shit, all rumpled and bleary-eyed, and Wyatt could smell the booze on him. “Yes, she is, and if you would stay the fuck out of it, she’d come back to me.”
Aware that Austen was inside and could hear every word, Wyatt held back what he really wanted to say. “You’re drunk, Greg, and probably high. There’s nothing going on between Piper and me. You shouldn’t be driving, but just go home.”
“Fuck you,” Greg spat, his face contorting with rage. “Fuck you and your high-and-mighty, holier-than-thou Colebrook attitude. It’s your fault this happened. She never would have left me if it wasn’t for you.” His lips twisted into a sneer that only made him uglier. “Every damn time something went wrong, I had to hear about how I didn’t measure up, how I would never compare to you. I’ve spent my entire life living in your shadow, and I’ll be damned if I’ll lose my wife over you.”
Wyatt barely resisted the urge to scrub a hand over his face. Whatever the drugs and alcohol had done to Greg were the least of his worries. The dude had serious mental issues that went way beyond addiction. Piper hadn’t left him because of Wyatt, she’d left him because he treated her like shit and couldn’t stay clean. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, but you’ve got five seconds before I make you get back in your car and leave. Go home and sleep it off.”
Greg’s fuse snapped. The man’s dark blue eyes burned with a sudden fury. His face contorted and he reared one arm back. Wyatt shot out a hand to block the punch, catching Greg’s fist and pushing him sideways.
Greg lost his balance, stumbled and caught himself against the railing. “Fuck you!” he snarled, and charged.
Wyatt braced himself, caught Greg’s wrist when he got close enough, and whipped his arm up and behind his back. Grits barked hysterically behind him at the screen door. If it had been Raider, she would have torn through the screen door to get to him, and then torn into Greg.
Greg snarled and tried to whirl but Wyatt had already used the man’s momentum against him, spinning him around and grabbing his other arm, pinning both behind him.
Enraged, Greg thrashed in his hold. “Let me go, you asshole! Let me go and fight me like a man, goddamn it!”
Wyatt was aware of Austen pushing her way through the screen door. “No,” he told her sharply, struggling to hold Greg in place. He didn’t want her getting hurt because of this drunken prick.
He was saved from asking her to call the cops by running footsteps coming across the gravel driveway. His brother Easton materialized out of the darkness, his expression livid
as he ran for Greg.
“What the hell’s going on?” Easton demanded, grabbing Greg’s shoulders and muscling him to the porch floor with Wyatt.
“He’s drunk and came here looking to pick a fight,” Wyatt said, leaning over to hold onto Greg’s wrists in a crushing grip. Not for the first time, he felt awful that Piper had to deal with this sorry son of a bitch on an almost daily basis until the divorce went through.
Greg tried to rear his head back, still struggling against their holds. Easton slammed him harder against the porch, leaned down to snarl at him. “Enough.”
Breathing hard, Greg stilled, his face dark red, pale green eyes shooting sparks.
“You stay down and cool off,” Easton snapped, one knee digging into the middle of Greg’s spine, “or we’re calling the cops.”
After a few seconds the man relented and went limp beneath them. Wyatt allowed Easton to take Greg’s wrists and slowly eased away. His pulse raced, all his muscles locked and ready for more as he stood. Easton followed suit, watching Greg carefully as the man got to his hands and knees, then climbed to his feet.
Giving Wyatt a death glare, he jerked on the hem of his button down, jaw tight, eyes burning with the promise of retribution. “This isn’t over,” he rasped out, and started for the stairs. Easton automatically reached out a hand to stop him but Greg knocked it away and rushed for his car.
Easton cursed and started after him but Wyatt grabbed Easton’s arm as the engine started up. The last thing they needed was for Greg to make this uglier and pull a weapon. “Let him go. I’ll call the cops. He’s wasted and I don’t want him going after Piper.”
“The cops won’t get him in time,” Easton said, his voice full of frustration. “I’ll follow him, make sure he leaves her alone.”
Wyatt handed him the keys, called out to him as Easton ran for Wyatt’s truck. “Good to see you, little brother.”
“Yeah, you too,” Easton called back, raising a hand in acknowledgment as he jumped into the truck and chased after Greg.
Watching as Easton left, Wyatt called the cops and told them what was going on. The truck’s taillights disappeared out of sight up the road as he ended the call and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly.
The screen door creaked open and he turned to see Austen there, holding Grits to her chest. She set the dog down and came up beside Wyatt, reaching out to wrap her fingers around his hand.
“You all right?” she asked softly. In the quiet he could hear the crickets singing in the grass. He took a deep breath and relaxed his muscles, let the peacefulness wash over him.
It was strange to be able to look her in the eye without bending his neck. Strange, but nice. She smelled damn good, a light mix of vanilla and something exotic that made him want to bury his face against her throat and breathe her in. “Yeah. Sorry you had to see that.”
“Who was that?”
“Piper’s ex.”
“Piper?” she echoed in a shocked voice.
He nodded, still having a hard time believing Piper had ever seen anything good in that piece of shit. “The other guy was my youngest brother, Easton. He’s going to make sure Greg stays away from her, and the cops will handle everything else.”
“He’s…unstable.”
“Yeah, and out of his damn mind. I keep telling her to get a restraining order against him but she’s been trying to avoid things getting uglier by keeping everything quiet.” He met her gaze. “You’ve only been here a couple weeks, but surely you can see how fast word spreads around here.”
She nodded.
“Well, gossip spreads even faster. The former sheriff and decorated Army vet coming here to start a drunken fight over her is just the kind of shit she doesn’t want circulating around when she’s trying to rebuild her life and repair the damage he did to her reputation.”
“Are you and her…?” She let the question trail off but as her meaning sank in, he shook his head, adamant, not wanting her to get the wrong idea about him and Piper.
“No. Not at all, we’re just friends, but he won’t believe that. Simple truth is, he just can’t face that this is all his doing. Always plays the victim, has to blame someone else.”
She nodded, but he could tell from her expression that she didn’t quite believe him and Wyatt felt strangely helpless when she released his hand. Then she raised a hand to gently brush her fingers over the left side of his face, her touch against his beard waking thousands of nerve endings as she looked at him with such concern that his hardened heart squeezed.
“You sure you’re okay?” she asked softly.
“Yeah,” he murmured, trying to remember why he shouldn’t cup her face in his hands and taste that delectable mouth that had been tormenting him all night.
It had been so damn long since anyone had touched him this way, too long since he’d savored the feel of a woman’s body beneath his, and the thought of feeling Austen’s long limbs twine around him while he explored all that soft skin and found out what kinds of sounds she’d make while he pleasured her…
He shoved the tantalizing thought aside. “Much better now.”
She gave him a soft smile that warmed him from the inside out, her fingertips lingering against his scruffy cheek. So gentle. So kind. “I’m glad.” Humor sparkled in her silvery eyes. “Because you don’t know how bad I wanted to pounce on him and beat the shit out of him for trying to hurt you.”
Wyatt barked out a laugh, surprised and touched at the same time. “You know, I can totally see you doing it, too.”
Her smile widened. “Dress, heels and all, I still pack quite a punch.”
The humor faded. “I’m glad you didn’t, though, since I would have felt compelled to stop you. Because I couldn’t stand seeing you get hurt.” Unable to resist the pull between them, he held her gaze as he turned his face and pressed his lips to her open palm.
She froze, her soft intake of breath sending a bolt of lust through him as her pupils expanded there in the glow of the porch light. Then she lowered her hand and the spell was broken, the singing of crickets filling the vacuum of silence.
“Well,” she began, taking a step back and lowering her gaze. “It’s getting late and we’ve both got an early start in the morning. I should probably go.” She cocked her head. “Unless you want me to stick around to see if the cops want to question me as a witness?”
Hiding his disappointment, Wyatt shook his head. “It’s okay.” Probably for the best that she leave, considering how much he wanted her and how much he shouldn’t touch her again.
It didn’t matter that he liked and respected her. They’d almost crossed a line tonight and he couldn’t risk it with them working together on this job for at least the next six months. It wasn’t just him involved; his guys depended on the steady income this project would bring them. Signed contract with her or not, he couldn’t risk screwing that up by sleeping with her and things turning awkward afterward.
Reminding himself of all that, he held the door for her while she went in to grab her purse, her scent wrapping around him as she walked past.
“I’ll leave the list here for you,” she said over her shoulder.
“Sure.”
Holding Grits, wishing he was holding Austen instead, Wyatt mentally cursed as he watched her walk to her truck. Now he was even more pissed off at Greg. For the first time in forever he was actually interested in someone and now she thought there might be something going on between him and Piper, despite what he’d said.
God, he wished he’d punched that asshole in the face while he’d had the chance.
CHAPTER EIGHT
This wasn’t even remotely the homecoming Easton had expected.
His first night home after another six-month stint in Afghanistan, he’d expected to hang out with his dad and Wyatt over some grilled steaks and cold beers. Instead he’d shown up to find his big brother wrestling with Greg on the cabin’s front porch.
Greg’s car was ahead of him now in the distan
ce and it pissed Easton off that the guy was driving drunk. Easton had smelled the booze leaking out of his pores, and wasn’t letting Greg out of his sight.
Especially not when Piper might be his next target.
He turned the corner sharply and hit the gas, racing to catch up with Greg’s car so he wouldn’t lose him. By now Wyatt would have called the cops, who were well acquainted with Greg Rutland and his bullshit. If he blew over the legal limit once they caught him, Greg would go to jail, and not even his former service as sheriff would make anyone down at the station or courthouse lift a finger to help him.
Up ahead, Greg turned a corner and disappeared from view into a subdivision just outside of town. Easton cursed and sped toward the intersection, his tires squealing as he made the turn thirty seconds later.
There were no taillights ahead of him on the darkened street.
Not about to give up, Easton turned onto each and every road in the residential area just south of downtown Sugar Hollow, searching for Greg’s car. He found it a few minutes later, parked in the driveway of an unfamiliar one-story rancher.
Then he saw Greg standing on the front porch of the little bungalow arguing with someone, and Easton’s stomach grabbed when he recognized the woman standing there in her robe.
Piper.
His hackles went up instantly, anger and protectiveness punching through him. “Oh, hell no.” He’d always had a natural protective streak, but with Piper it was ten times as strong, because what he felt for her went way beyond friendship.
He roared up to the house and threw the truck into park at the curb, bursting out of it before it had stopped rocking. In three strides he was around the hood and heading for Greg, who’d half-turned to face him.
