Sweet Surrender: A MacKenzie Family Novella

by Liliana Hart

  She rolled her shoulders and relaxed, eyeing the glass showcase filled with pastries and cakes. She’d had to close for twenty minutes after the morning rush when she’d run out of confectioner boxes.

  The beautiful display stared back at her mockingly. She had the gift. Just like her great aunt. For a woman who loved physical fitness and extreme sports, it was damned inconvenient to be a cake-making maven.

  “I am not getting trapped in this one-horse town,” she said, almost convincing herself. “I’m selling. And that’s final. Fifty years of batter and frosting is long enough. I’ve got a life to live, and cake making for cowboys ain’t it.”

  She nudged the boxes with the toe of her boot and then sighed as she got out of the chair and knelt to scoop them up. When she stood back up, her gaze locked on the handsome sight walking in her direction, and her lips quirked in a smile.

  Cooper MacKenzie was nothing to sneeze at, but those MacKenzie boys had been all trouble and sex appeal when she’d visited during the summers of her youth. Her great aunt had warned her often to stay away from them, and she had, for the most part, but she’d have been lying if she’d said she hadn’t sneaked a peek with longing every once in a while.

  But the wildness must’ve calmed over the years because Cooper was very happily married and proud to show it, though he was still something to look at—that thick black hair and those cobalt blue eyes—the body he obviously kept in shape and the tattoos that covered his arms.

  But it was the man who walked beside him that was worth a second look in her book. He moved with an ease that told her he was very comfortable in his own skin. His shoulders were broad, and even through the layers of his work shirt and coat she could tell that he was in good shape—excellent shape, actually. His light brown hair was unruly and on the longish side and the scruff on his face let her know he hadn’t seen a razor in a couple of days.

  “Well, hello, cowboy,” she purred.

  And she felt the slow burn of attraction dance deep within her—a burn that she’d thought had fizzled to nonexistence since the disaster of her last relationship. It was nice to know that things were still in working order. And it was even nicer to know that maybe she could find a bit of excitement in Surrender after all.

  She’d been in Surrender for a few weeks, and it had been the longest few weeks of her life. She was a city girl and had always been a city girl. What was she supposed to do when everything closed by six o’clock every evening? Except for Duffey’s, which was the little bar at the very end of Main Street. But she’d learned quickly enough that there was no excitement to be had watching a bunch of men play darts and pool and tell lies.

  The population was small in Surrender and it was, for the most part, a ranching community, which meant early to bed and early to rise. And she’d fallen in with the crowd because she was up baking every morning by four o’clock. She was awake before the roosters.

  She hurried and tossed the boxes behind the showcase, and combed her bangs with her fingers so they hopefully looked artfully tousled instead of like she’d been hauling boxes in a windstorm.

  The little bell above the door rang and the wind whirled in with them before they hurriedly shut the door.

  “Damn,” she muttered under her breath. He was even better looking up close and personal.

  She’d said it under her breath, but by the way he smirked at her she had the feeling he knew exactly what she was thinking. She wasn’t the kind of woman who liked a man to be spit shined and polished. She liked a man who knew how to work with his hands and who looked like he spent time in the sun. And if he had a little edge to him, all the better. And this guy definitely had an edge in his worn biker boots and tattered jeans.

  Part of her wondered if she should just tell them she was closed, but she’d never been a coward.

  “Hey, there,” she said, not taking her gaze off of the stranger. “What can I do for you?”

  “A loaded question, if I’ve ever heard one,” he said.

  “Oh, for the love of God,” Cooper interrupted. “I want a bear claw and a fresh cup of coffee. You make it better than what I can do at the sheriff’s office.”

  “You got it, Sheriff,” she said, going to get his order. Her gaze still strayed to the stranger as she worked.

  “What about you, cowboy? What do you want?”

  “I’m swearing off donuts,” he said in a slow drawl.

  Cooper snorted out a laugh, but she ignored him.

  “That’s a damned shame,” she said, feeling herself go hot all over. “I don’t think you’ve ever tasted one of my donuts. They’ll melt in your mouth.”

  Good Lord, what was she doing? She was practically seducing this man in her great aunt’s bakery. She’d never be able to look Cooper MacKenzie in the eye again. But she couldn’t seem to help herself. And from the heat in his dark brown eyes, he didn’t seem to mind.

  “How can I resist such a temptation?”

  “Oh, I’m sure you could if you put your mind to it,” she said.

  “Why would I want to do that?” he asked.

  “I’m standing right here,” Cooper said. “Just waiting for my coffee and bear claw. It’s nothing really. Don’t mind me.”

  “I never do,” the stranger said.

  “You’re not from around here,” she said.

  He shrugged and took out his wallet to pay. “Neither are you.”

  “Guilty,” she said, putting their purchases in a brown bag since she hadn’t opened the boxes yet. “I’m Canadian.” She reached for the money and their hands touched. She felt the sizzle all the way to her toes and their gazes locked.

  “Still standing here,” Cooper said.

  “You have a name?” she asked.

  “Grant Boone. I’m visiting from Detroit.”

  She nodded. “I figured you were from somewhere in that region. The Midwestern accent without the patience or courtesies.”

  “That’s so un-Canadian of you,” he said.

  “I’ve lived in New York the past couple of years.”

  “That’ll do it. I enjoy a woman with an attitude every now and then.”

  “That’s a shame,” she said. “My attitude is pretty much like this all the time. I’ve got it on good authority that I’m a real pain in the ass.”

  “Ahh,” Grant said, looking her over. “A man-hater. You’ve been wronged, darlin’?” He emphasized the word in a long drawl.

  “Good grief,” she heard Cooper mutter as he headed back toward the door.

  “Who hasn’t?” she asked, feeling the bitterness of Richard’s betrayal rise up. “I didn’t realize you were a psychic.”

  “Not a psychic,” he said, rubbing at the scruff of his beard. “I’m a cop, which is pretty much the same thing.”

  “You don’t look like any cop I’ve ever seen,” she said. “What’s a cop from Detroit doing in Surrender, Montana? I’m surprised you haven’t keeled over from all the excitement here.”

  “I’m retired,” he said, his face hardening to granite.

  Well, well, she thought. She’d hit a sore spot.

  “Retired? At your age?” she asked. “What are you, mid-forties? What’d you do?”

  “That’s a hell of a lot of questions from a stranger from Canada.”

  “What can I say?” she asked. “I’m a people person.”

  “Those are the kind of questions that should be answered over dinner,” he said, smiling.

  She almost rolled her eyes at the dimple that winked in one cheek. This guy was walking testosterone, and she wanted whatever he was selling. Then he turned his head and she saw the scarred flesh along his jaw that he’d kept hidden. Maybe he was testing her to see what her reaction would be. All she knew was that it didn’t detract from him in any way. If anything, it just made him look more dangerous.

  She was just about to suggest they skip dinner and go straight for dessert when the big square windows at the front of the bakery exploded and a hail of bullets ripped acr
oss the countertops and the glass showcase with all the baked goods.

  Grant dove toward her and they flew through the air in what seemed like slow motion. She felt the impact to her head just as they landed with an oomph behind the counter. At the last second he turned so he didn’t crush her beneath his weight.

  Her vision was blurred and blackness was creeping in, but she heard him yell Cooper’s name before she let the darkness take her.

  Chapter Two

  “Liza, you awake?”

  The voice started like a small buzz in her ears, but got increasingly more annoying. Her head swam and nausea roiled in her belly.

  “Goway,” she slurred.

  “Here, drink this.”

  She thought the voice was familiar, but she couldn’t place it. Something cool touched her lips and she tried to swat it away, but the liquid splashed against her face and ran down her neck. Then she remembered. Grant Boone, the sexy retired cop with a chip on his shoulder and a body like a rock. She remembered because he’d landed on her and he’d been hard—everywhere.

  “Ease off, Florence Nightingale,” she rasped. “You’re drowning me.”

  She strained to sit up, but the pain in her skull felt like someone was sticking daggers into her brain.

  What the hell had happened? The mattress under her was soft and the sheets were cool and silky. The lights were dimmed, but she was very much aware that she was in someone’s bedroom. Though she had no idea whose. If she’d had the courage, she would’ve checked to see if her clothes were still on.

  “Did we have dessert?” she asked. “I don’t normally drink. Is there anything I need to apologize for?”

  “I think your brain is addled,” he said. “You haven’t been drinking. And we haven’t had dessert. Here, take these.”

  He helped her sit up and she automatically put the two pills in her mouth and swallowed them down with the water. Her head was killing her, and the room was starting to spin. As soon as she swallowed the pills she laid down flat and closed her eyes.

  “What happened?” she asked.

  “Someone shot through…”

  It all came crashing back and made her head hurt even worse. Her eyes widened with fear and she grasped his leg. “Gunshots! Ohmigod. Was I shot?”

  She tried to assess the damage to her body, but the only thing that really hurt was her head. Had she been shot in the head?

  “No, nothing as glamorous as that,” he said. “You got hit in the head with a tray of donuts.”

  She lifted her hands and felt around for the knot on her head, wincing when she found it. “A tray of donuts?” she asked.

  “Yep,” he said, smiling for the first time since she’d opened her eyes, though it was strained.

  “I don’t mean to seem ungrateful,” she started, “but I seem to be missing some time. The last thing I remember was you on top of me on the floor of the bakery. And now I’m in an unfamiliar bed with you looming over me. You can imagine my confusion.”

  “I can also appreciate your lack of hysterics. I’m not a fan.”

  “I’m not big on hysterics,” she said. “But I’m pretty badass at revenge.”

  His hand slipped into hers and squeezed, and she felt the immediate relief of that human reassurance that everything was going to be okay. She could bravado her way through most situations, but she was scared and she had no clue what was going on. And then she remembered they weren’t the only two in the bakery.

  “Oh, God,” she said. “Cooper? What happened?”

  The jagged scar along his jaw turned white. He was pissed.

  “He’ll survive, but he took a hit.”

  “Jesus, poor Claire,” she said, thinking of Cooper’s wife. “She must be out of her mind with worry. I can’t imagine.”

  “She’s a cop’s wife,” he said. “It’s their biggest fear come to life.”

  Liza had gotten to know Claire during her time in Surrender because Claire was the librarian, and sometimes she would walk across the street to the library when she closed at three o’clock and bring a few goodies that hadn’t sold. They’d become friends, much to Liza’s surprise. There was something about Claire that made Liza think she wasn’t nearly as prim and proper as people thought she was.

  “I feel like I’m having an out-of-body experience,” she said. “This is Surrender. Things like this don’t happen here. Nothing happens here.”

  “It’s my fault,” he said. “I didn’t think she’d come here. I shouldn’t have let Cooper go out and face her alone, but I had to make sure you were protected first.”

  “Her?” she asked.

  Her head wasn’t pounding quite as hard and she tried again to sit up against the headboard. Grant moved back to give her a little more room and leaned against the footboard, so he faced her.

  “Ryan Caine,” he said. “And it’s a really long story. How about we table it for when your head doesn’t feel like it’s going to fall off?”

  “It’s feeling better now,” she said. “Whatever was in those magic pills did the trick.”

  “Enjoy it while you can,” he said. “They’ll wear off soon enough and remind you a tray of donuts did you in.”

  “Hilarious,” she said, deadpan.

  His lips twitched and he took one of her feet in his hands. He gently pressed the arch of her foot and a moan escaped before she could help it. She’d be a fool to turn down a sexy guy giving her a foot rub, so she snuggled back down onto the bed and rested her head on the soft pillow.

  “Let’s just say someone from my former undercover life is a little pissed at me and looking for revenge. I’m not sure how she tracked me here. Since I retired, I’ve been doing some traveling. Lots of hiking and camping in remote locations and little cell service. I got a voicemail from Cooper a few days ago and he invited me to stay here for a while until I decide what I want to do.”

  “But this Ryan Caine found you?” she asked.

  “She’s good at what she does,” he said. “Though she’s never put civilians in harm’s way before, but her desperation to kill me is making her reckless.”

  “Her desperation to kill you,” she repeated, the immensity of those words sinking in. “What’d you do that made her want to kill you?”

  “That’s definitely a story for another time,” he said.

  “You’ve still not told me where we are.” She sighed as his magic fingers worked their way up her calf and rubbed at the knot there.

  “We’re hiding, for the moment. We’re in the apartment above the sheriff’s office. Cooper had this place reinforced with bulletproof everything once his family’s security business started drawing unsavory attention.” Grant’s voice was low, but his eyes scanned every corner and window of the room. “We’re snug as two bugs for the time being.”

  His hands moved to her other foot and she arched her back, pushing against him as he dug at the sore muscles. She was very aware that she was alone in a bed with a man she’d just met. And somehow it didn’t seem to matter. She knew it was the moment—the adrenaline of escaping danger and possibly death.

  She also knew she would only be in Surrender long enough to settle her aunt’s estate and sell the bakery, then she was heading to L.A. She had no particular ties to L.A., and she’d only visited a couple of times, but it was as far away from New York and Richard as she could get, so it seemed like a good move.

  There was nothing wrong with being a little selfish every once in a while. With fulfilling wants and needs and throwing caution to the wind, especially when she’d just watched her life flash before her eyes. She was all of a sudden feeling very alive.

  “Don’t you want to take a closer look at my head?” she said, pouting and stroking the pillow next to her. “You didn’t even kiss it to make it better.”

  He arched a brow and the corner of his mouth tilted up, and then he pushed her feet aside and crawled up next to her. “You’re a world of trouble, Liza Carmichael.”

  “Life gets boring without a lit
tle trouble every now and then.”

  She saw the gleam in his eyes and knew he lived by the same philosophy. She’d been right when she’d told him she’d never seen a cop like him before. There was no way he put on a uniform every morning and lived by the book. He had renegade written all over him.

  His body barely touched hers and the heat was unbelievable. She wasn’t a woman who had one-night stands. In fact, she’d never had one at all. But something inside her was feeling wild and reckless, and she needed someone to cling to after the events of the day.

  She realized then she wasn’t the only one who needed the connection. She watched his pulse flutter in his throat. He was still amped up from the shooting.

  He leaned over her and his lips gently touched the sore spot on her head, and then he lingered and breathed in her hair before touching his lips to her again.

  Liza felt the pulse beneath his zipper, and she turned slightly to press against him. Her breasts felt heavy and she gasped as his arm came around her and his hand palmed her ass, squeezing gently.

  “That body of yours has been taunting me since I saw you swearing at those boxes this morning. You’d probably run away if I told you what I’d like to do to that ass.”

  “Try me,” she said. “Maybe you’d run screaming if you knew what I wanted to do to your ass.”

  He barked out a laugh and jerked his shirt over his head, tossing it on the ground.

  “Sweet Jesus,” she said, making him laugh again.

  His torso was a thing of legends. Never in her life had she seen abs so defined that they could’ve belonged to a sculpture. There was a light smattering of dark blond hair on his chest and his tattooed biceps bulged without him flexing. She stifled a giggle as the thought went through her mind that she was about to be ravished by Thor.

  His hands went to the button on her jeans and snapped them open, and then he lowered the zipper before pulling them down her hips and thighs.

  “You are round in all the right places, baby. I want to sink into that pussy so bad.”

  She sucked in a breath as he stripped her jeans the rest of the way off and dropped them on the floor in a heap.