Winter Awakening (Wyoming Fever Book 4)

by Elizabeth Lennox

  The dispatcher repeated the address, and told him backup was on the way.

  Mack inched closer, watching as the black-clad individual muttered something when the front door didn’t open. Did the guy think that the door would be unlocked? Okay, that was a possibility. Plenty of people around here didn’t lock their doors. In fact, neighbors sometimes barely took the time to knock before they walked into a friend’s house. They’d simply step inside and call out to announce their presence.

  The person moved around on the front porch, tilting back the potted plants. Damn it, why had Maven put a spare key under the pansies?! Silently, he mouthed several expletives, but moved across the street, keeping to the shadows. He knew that Maven wasn’t home, she was in Fort Collins and safely out of the way, but that didn’t mean he wanted her to be robbed.

  He slipped around to the side door as the person slid the key into the lock and opened the front door. The squeaking of the old door was incredibly loud in the silence of the early morning. That sound allowed him to sprint quickly into position, arriving at the front door before the culprit could close it.

  “Freeze!” he commanded, his deep voice shattering the silence of the pre-dawn morning.

  A gasp echoed throughout the room and…it sounded almost familiar. But he couldn’t place it. Adrenaline rushed through his system as he stepped to the right and grabbed the person’s arm, twisting until he could pin the culprit to the wall. A higher than anticipated yelp of pain warned him that something was off. But he couldn’t take the time to figure out that sound. Once he had the cuffs on the burglar, then he could focus on whatever was off.

  “Hold still,” he growled when the person wiggled.

  “What are you doing?” a feminine voice shrieked. “I live here!”

  He didn’t believe her, but again, that warning bell sounded in his head. He paused, still holding the person’s wrist.

  “This is Emma Maven’s house. Who the hell are you?”

  “I’m her daughter! I’m Kate Maven!”

  Mack’s shock was profound and he did something he’d never done in a situation like this. He dropped her arm as if she were on fire and backed away.

  “Kate?”

  Slowly, the figure turned. The dim light from the streetlight revealed her features. Huge, green eyes glanced over narrow shoulders, hitting him in the gut.

  “Mack?” she whispered through numb lips.

  Jerking backwards, he stumbled further away from her, staring wide eyed with horror and disbelief. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  Kate turned slowly, rubbing her shoulders. Mack hadn’t hurt her, but being pinned to the wall with her hands behind her back hadn’t been comfortable either.

  “I’m packing up my mom’s house. She’s still recovering in Colorado, so she can’t get the house ready to sell. I told her that I’d take care of it.” She eyed him in return, then gasped, “You’re naked!”

  He glanced down at himself, bemused. “I’m wearing jeans.”

  “But…nothing else!”

  He shrugged, which brought her attention to his shoulders. The man was cut! Those muscles on his arms and chest…they were impressive!

  She heard sirens in the distance, then Mack muttered under his breath, and pulled out his phone. Kate continued to rub her arm as she listened to Mack tell someone “False alarm. Stand down.”

  Stand down from what? And what alarm was false?!

  A moment later, the sirens stopped. Had he always been this tall? He seemed taller! And bigger! Good grief, she tried to keep her eyes on his hard, angry features, but it was really difficult! Because that chest…! And those muscles in his arms…! Mack had always been strong, he’d played on the high school football team, but she didn’t remember him being…like this!

  “What’s going on?” she asked, still trying to make sense of the past five minutes.

  “I thought you were breaking into the house,” he said, exasperation evident in every line of his body.

  “But I wasn’t?”

  “I can see that,” he snapped. Then he turned and headed towards the door. “My apologies for the inconvenience.”

  “Um…thank you?” she replied, then cringed. She wasn’t sure what she was saying. But Kate suddenly felt if he walked out the door, she might never see him again.

  He glanced back at her over his shoulder, a quizzical expression in his eyes. Kate knew what he was silently asking. He had always been a man of few words, but if one looked into his eyes, recognized his features, one could understand his silent communications.

  “For protecting the house,” she explained, gesturing vaguely. “And the neighborhood…I guess.”

  He grunted slightly and turned back toward the door. That’s when she finally noticed the gun in his hand and gasped. He turned sharply, scanning the room, searching for trouble.

  “You have a gun!” she hissed, pointing her finger accusingly at the offending object in his hand.

  He glanced down at the weapon, as if he hadn’t realized it was in his hand. When he looked up at her, he chuckled. “I’m a cop!” he said, then turned and walked back out the door.

  A cop? Well…that would make sense, she thought. The sirens had been getting louder, then he’d made a phone call. The sirens had stopped. He must have called in that someone was breaking into her house. So yeah…cop. Logical. But…!

  “Mack!” she called, hurrying towards the still-open front door. He paused at the bottom step and turned, looking up at her over his bare shoulder. For a long moment, they stared at each other, Kate not sure what else to say. Just looking at him made her shiver with awareness and awe…and memories of their time together when they were younger…and a couple…came back to her now. “Um…thanks for…” For what? She’d already thanked him for protecting the neighborhood. Now what? “Just…thanks.”

  Did his eyes flash over her figure? It might be freezing cold out here, but Kate was sweaty and gross from her run. Perhaps she was mistaken.

  “Better close the door,” he grumbled, walking away, down the cracked sidewalk in front of her mother’s house. “Cold out here.”

  He was right, but Kate couldn’t bear missing even a moment of watching him. When he walked through the front door of that Victorian, she held her breath, shocked.

  What in the world was he doing going into “their” house?!

  Finally, she closed the door and pressed her back against it, staring at the stairwell in front of her. But she couldn’t see the stairs. Her thoughts were completely focused on the man who had just…well, twisted her arm behind her back in a very effective move, immobilizing her.

  “Goodness!” she gasped, as a wave of warmth flooded her.

  Chapter 4

  Kate parked her car and stepped out onto the sidewalk, then paused, staring up at the house. It felt as if walking up the stairs were akin to climbing Mount Everest! She was bone tired and just…tired.

  “Kate!” a deep, male voice called out.

  Kate turned at the sound and found Mack walking towards her. He wore a shirt this time. Darn it! And shoes. And a coat, double darn it! After Mack had left earlier, she’d realized that he hadn’t had shoes on either.

  Pushing her hair out of her eyes, she stopped at the mail box. “What’s up, Mack?” she asked, wondering how long it would take to make a cup of coffee. She could really use some coffee right about now.

  “What’s wrong?” he demanded, standing in front of her, his hands on his hips. He looked every inch the police officer. Tall and formidable, with an air of authority around him that was undeniable.

  “Nothing,” she said. That was her automatic response. Everything was fine. To the world, she was fine. She’d learned to cultivate this image of “fine-ness” over the years and it had served her well.

  His dark eyes moved over her features, not saying anything for a moment. Then he muttered a curse and took her elbow, leading her across the street.

  “What? I’m fine!” she protested, clen
ching the keys to her car in her left hand while…why wasn’t she resisting him? Why was she simply following him across the street?

  “You’re not,” he replied, then opened the door to the Victorian house. But Kate pulled back, not ready to enter that house of memories.

  “I can’t go in there,” she told him, looking at the front porch to avoid his eyes. The ceiling had been painted sky blue.

  “I have beer,” he offered. Still, she hesitated. “And coffee.”

  Those were the magic words. “Coffee?” she whispered, as if he’d offered her nectar from the gods! Her eyes glowed with sudden hope.

  His lips quirked. “Still the caffeine addict then?” he teased. But only with his eyes. Other than a shift in the glimmer in those dark depths, his features barely moved.

  “I admit to nothing,” she replied, but sniffed hopefully, wanting to smell the ambrosia.

  “I have to make it,” he said, putting a hand to the small of her back and nudging her inside.

  She stepped in reluctantly, but looked around eagerly. “Oh my! This is beautiful!” she gasped, taking in the now-glowing, wood staircase. “Whoever refinished this did a fabulous job!”

  “Thank you,” he replied, nudging her down the hallway.

  “Do you…do you own this house?”

  He tilted his head as he flipped on the light switch. “I’ll make coffee while you tell me what’s wrong.”

  He reached into the fridge and grabbed a beer, holding it up for a moment. “Unless you’re in the mood for something different?”

  Kate glanced at the counter where, an elaborate coffee machine rested, then at the beer in his hands. “The beer will work,” she decided, taking it from him.

  He handed it to her and she backed up a step, watching as he pulled a second out for himself. “So…you didn’t answer my question.”

  He twisted the cap off the top, but when she tried to do the same, the top hurt her hand. He took the beer from her and opened it. When he handed it back, their eyes locked and she felt that frisson of awareness that she’d thought had been pushed deep down inside of her.

  Obviously, she hadn’t buried it deep enough.

  “Thank you,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper as she accepted the beer, careful not to touch him. She noticed a smirk on his face. He realized what she was doing, damn him!

  “What’s wrong?” he prompted again.

  She leaned back against the wall, looking around. “Why don’t you have any furniture?” she asked, ignoring his question. Two could play at this game!

  “Haven’t had time,” he replied.

  “My mom had a mini stroke,” she told him, trying to keep the wobble out of her voice. She didn’t want to be sad. She wanted to be strong. Her mother needed her strength right now. Her mother had looked so scared and alone and somehow tiny in that hospital bed. She’d broken her leg, and had been recovering well, until today. The stroke had…well, it was just a mini stroke but…!

  Kate couldn’t hold back the tears. She bowed her head as overwhelming fear clutched at her throat. “The doctors explained that the stroke was probably caused by a blood clot due to her broken leg. It’s nothing. It was only a mini-stroke.…”

  The tears poured down her cheeks even as she tried to stifle them. She felt Mack’s strong arms wrap around her and that gesture undid her completely. Mack, her mother, coming home, the fear that her mother could die at any moment…it was all too much. She ached and her body shook as she sobbed, soaking his flannel shirt.

  He didn’t say anything. Mack rarely spoke and when he did, the words were sparse. But in his arms, she felt a rush of warmth and support. She couldn’t stop her own arms from wrapping around his lean, hard waist, and didn’t try. Then and there, the past twelve years simply vanished. This was Mack and he’d always been the rock she’d lean on when she’d needed a shoulder to cry on. It didn’t matter if it was happy or sad news, Mack had been the guy that had made sense of the world. So here, in this bright but barren kitchen, she let it all out. All of the stress of her mother’s accident, traveling across the country in a panic and the subsequent requests to return to Wyoming and pack up her childhood home poured out of her.

  When the emotional turmoil finally dissipated, Kate lifted her head to find that she was curled up in Mack’s lap now and he was sitting on the floor. Just like they’d done so many times in high school.

  “Where’s my beer?’ she asked, deciding to start with the easiest issue.

  “I drank it,” he said. No apologies. Just a simple fact.

  For some reason, Kate laughed. It was so typical! “Why are we sitting on the floor?” she asked, looking around, but she didn’t pull away. He was so comfortable and she was so tired of being strong and independent! It felt good to lean on someone, even if that leaning was only physical.

  “No furniture,” he explained.

  Kate laughed again because the lack of furniture was pretty obvious. “Right. Well, care to explain why there’s no furniture?”

  He shrugged again, one of those delicious shoulders shifting like tectonic plates. She could feel the tight muscles in his abs as well. Goodness, he felt so good!

  “Haven’t gotten around to it yet.”

  She tilted her head slightly. “Is furniture on your list of things to do?”

  “Eventually.”

  Kate smiled, luxuriating in the sense of rightness she felt. The silence felt good and she wanted to stay like this forever.

  But even that was a familiar feeling. Twelve years ago, she’d thought that she and Mack would last forever, that their relationship and their love was strong enough to withstand whatever trials life would throw at them.

  She’d been mistaken.

  “I should go,” she sighed, starting to slide off of his lap.

  He stopped her with a hand on her thigh. “Tell me why you were crying.”

  She smiled at the command in his voice. “You’ve become bossy over the years,” she teased. “How about if I grab a beer before I go into the details on my latest meltdown?”

  He didn’t respond verbally. Instead, he nodded towards the fridge, silently giving her permission.

  She stood up, painfully aware of his eyes on her butt as she moved towards the fridge. The family room and kitchen area were just one big area now. He’d taken down several walls and opened up the space. Were there more windows too? Yes, he’d installed a couple of big windows.

  “I bet these new windows let in a lot of light during the afternoon.”

  She reached into the fridge and grabbed two more beers. Absently, she noted that he didn’t have anything other than beer in there. Did he live off beer? Her eyes drifted down over his broad, muscular shoulders and trim waist and dismissed the thought. No, Mack worked out. Hard! He fed himself some other way.

  “How long have you been a police officer?” she asked, sitting down in front of him and handing him both beers. He opened them, then handed one back.

  “About five years. I’m a detective, actually. Homicide.”

  She absorbed that information, then asked the question that had been plaguing her ever since yesterday morning. “When did you get out of the Army?”

  He shrugged. “Five years ago.”

  “And you came back here to Cheyenne because…no other city would hire you?”

  His eyes narrowed, which made her laugh. “Don’t even try it,” she replied. “I know you’re a softy!”

  He grunted, then took a long sip of his beer. “What have you been up to lately?” he asked.

  She tilted her head slightly. “You don’t know?”

  “I wouldn’t have asked if I did,” he replied.

  She nodded. “Fair enough. I thought my mother would have said something.”

  His lips quirked slightly. “Your mother still hates me,” he replied.

  “Even now that you’re a responsible homeowner and a police officer?”

  “Detective,” he corrected. “And yes. She still hate
s me.” He took another sip of beer. “She blames me for you not coming back to Cheyenne after college, I think.”

  Kate smiled and took a sip of her beer. “Yeah, I can see that. She never understood…” she stopped, letting the words trail off.

  He lifted a dark eyebrow, prompting her to finish her sentence. But Kate shook her head. “So, what’s the story on this house? I love the changes, by the way. Did you do the work yourself?”

  “You haven’t told me what you do for a living.”

  She smiled, toying with the label on her beer bottle. “I’m an events coordinator,” she said. “I work for a company in Miami. We do different types of events, but our specialty is weddings.”

  “You…plan parties?” he asked, his forehead crinkling in confusion.

  “Yep! I love it.”

  “I thought you went to college to study business.”

  “I did. I even went back to school for my master’s degree. But…” she shrugged. “Well, it takes a lot of budgeting and planning to organize a massive wedding or party. Plus there are often licensing issues, permits, and negotiating tactics that all use my business degree.”

  He lifted the bottle of beer to his lips, but hesitated at her answer, as if he were trying to absorb and understand the words. “Huh!” was all he said.

  “Weddings used to be my personal favorite type of event,” she told him. “But I’ve gotten bored with them lately. And good grief, some brides can be a real pain in the butt!” She took a sip of her beer as she shook her head. “I can’t believe some of the demands that they make. It’s wild! And the tears! Mack, you’d probably shoot some of them!”

  He chuckled as he drained his beer and set it aside, next to the other two.

  “Tell me,” he encouraged.

  So Kate did. For the next hour, she told him funny stories about brides and grooms, and mothers of the bride and groom, and fathers who cried at their daughter’s wedding. Also, that one father who punched out the groom after the kiss. Mack only looked at his phone once during that time, typing in something then setting it down to look directly at her. Mack had a way of making Kate feel as if she were the center of his world. He concentrated with an intensity that few could achieve and it warmed her, even though he probably gave the same direct attention to anyone with whom he spoke.