For his life.
Dev pulled in a deep breath, and then slowly released it. The crisis had passed. He’d faced temptation before and would again. Recognizing the want and walking away was something he’d done on a daily basis, especially over the last few months. “No, thanks. I’m good.”
There was that head tilt again.
“I mean it, Racy. Just let me enjoy my meal.” He paused, searching for a way to lighten the mood. His gaze flicked to the end of the bar. “And the view.”
Racy grinned. “Forget it, Murphy. She’s only twenty-three.”
“Ouch. Now, you’re making me feel old.”
“You’re not old.” Racy fiddled with something behind the bar out of his sight. “She’s just too young.”
Dev reached for his burger. “Doesn’t look that way from here.”
“She was still in elementary school when you were going to fraternity parties at the University of Wyoming.”
“Thanks a lot.” Okay, that was too young even if he had been interested. Dev took a bite of his burger, chewed and then swallowed, watching as Racy hovered nearby. “You don’t have to babysit me.”
“I’m not babysitting.” She wiped down the already clean areas on either side of him. “I’m working.”
“Yeah, right.”
“You do realize the Blue Creek belongs to me, right? That means I get to decide where and when—”
A buzzing noise had Racy dropping the rag and reaching for the cell phone tucked into a rear pocket. Her face lit up with a big smile as she hit a button and pressed the phone to her ear.
“Hey, honey. How’s the world’s sexiest sheriff?” She offered Dev a quick wink, then laughed. “Yes, I can feel you blushing from here.”
Devlin just shook his head as Racy stepped away to have a private conversation with her husband. Sometimes it still amazed him that Racy and Gage, two people as different as night and day, had fallen in love and married, but he’d stood up for them at their wedding.
Something he hadn’t been able to do for Adam and Fay.
His sister-in-law had been almost four months pregnant by the time she and Adam had worked out their issues last summer, and they hadn’t wanted to wait any longer to get married.
He’d ended up watching a video of their September wedding from his hospital bed, unable to keep his promise to be his eldest brother’s best man.
At least he’d been back on his feet, sort of, when the newest member of the Murphy family, Adam Alistair Murphy Jr., A.J. for short, had arrived back in February.
“How about a fresh piece of apple pie topped with a scoop of vanilla ice cream for dessert?”
Racy’s question pulled Dev from his thoughts, and he realized she’d finished her call and had cleared away his empty plate. “No, thanks.”
He climbed off the bar stool, leaning heavily against the bar as he dug for his wallet. Damn, his leg felt like jelly and he’d left the cane his physical therapist insisted he still needed in his Jeep.
“Time for me to head back to work.”
She smiled and gave his hand a quick squeeze after taking his money. “You plan to stop by the firehouse on your way?”
That question caught him by surprise. “No. Why?”
“No reason. It’s just that your name comes up whenever any of the team is here. I thought they’d like to know one of their best and brightest volunteers is up and around.”
Yeah, up and around, but nowhere close to being able to rejoin the department. If ever. No, he wasn’t ready to face his former coworkers yet.
Dev shoved his wallet back in his pocket and offered a quick prayer he wouldn’t fall on his face when he turned around. “See you later, Racy. Thanks for the great meal.”
“Say hi to your family.”
Dev acknowledged her words with a wave, hating the ever-present limp that marked his walk as he headed out. His family said the slight hitch in his step wasn’t as noticeable as Dev thought, but it was just another reminder of how much his life had changed in the last year.
Making his way across the gravel parking lot, he opened the door to his Jeep and climbed inside, trying to ignore the fresh round of pain racing through his veins.
Maybe this hadn’t been such a great idea.
As wonderful as his family had been since the accident, Dev had been desperate to get out on his own again. Lord knew he hadn’t had a moment to himself in the last four months except when he was in bed at night. Even then, either one of his parents or Liam—the only brother who still lived in the log mansion that was the family home—would check in.
He appreciated all they’d done for him. Hell, with two broken arms he’d been like a baby, relying on his family for everything from his meals to bathing. It’d been three months since the casts were removed and still everyone hovered.
He needed space to think, to breathe.
And despite his father’s offer to replace the four-wheel drive Wrangler with something that made it easier to get behind the wheel, Dev had insisted on keeping it—it was the vehicle he’d bought the day he kicked his drinking habit.
“But why the Blue Creek?” he asked his reflection in the rearview mirror as he turned over the engine and backed out of the parking space. “Why not go to Sherry’s Diner? Or grab a sandwich at Doucette’s Bakery?”
He didn’t have an answer, or didn’t want to come up with one, so he cranked up the radio as he slowed to a stop at the parking lot exit, waiting for the chance to pull onto the street.
Diagonally across from him was White’s Liquors, a red brick building with a faded red, white and blue advertisement from the 1940s to buy war bonds still visible on the side.
When old man White had been alive, he’d had the ad repainted every five years in honor of the two brothers he’d lost during the war, but his kids owned the place now and the anniversary of the repainting had come and gone last fall without being touched up.
The traffic had cleared, but Dev still sat there, staring at the building, wondering about the ad and realizing he hadn’t stepped foot inside the building in the last six years.
Hadn’t needed to. Hadn’t wanted to.
Until this very moment.
His grip was so tight on the steering wheel that his knuckles turned white. Pulling in a deep breath, he let go and put the Jeep in gear. Once he was on the street, he grabbed his cell phone and hit the button that connected him directly to Mac. Three rings later a buzzing noise filled his ear as Mac answered.
“Dev?”
Mac’s voice came through, but the reception was terrible. Dev released the pent-up breath with one whoosh. “Yeah, it’s me. Can you talk?”
“At...airport.”
Dev’s heart lurched. That was the last place he wanted to go. Okay, the second to last place.
“Heading...home...meet you there.”
Every other word of Mac’s was indecipherable, but Dev breathed a sigh of relief. “On my way.”
“Dev...need to...arrived yesterday.”
Circling the town square, Dev headed toward the sheriff’s office and the fire station. His gaze firmly on the road ahead, he didn’t allow even his peripheral vision to stray toward the open bays where a few of the firefighters were washing down the engine and the light-duty rescue truck.
“Mac, you’re breaking up. This connection sucks.” The tightness in Dev’s chest eased as he headed out of town. “You can tell me when you see me. I’ll be waiting on the front porch.”
Moments later, Dev drove past the entrance to his family’s ranch and the turnoff to his brother Adam’s place, and kept going until he saw the road to Mac’s farm. The land had been in his friend’s family for generations, much like the land the Murphy M7 Ranch sat on, but it hadn’t been a working farm for years.
Turning into the driveway, he started to slow to a stop near the two-story farmhouse, but noticed a car parked down near the metal hangar out back. When a storm had destroyed the unused barn almost a dozen years ago, Mac had it
torn down and erected a steel structure that housed his baby, a 1929 Travel Air 4000 biplane.
Dev drove to the hangar, parking next to the plain brown sedan that sported Colorado plates. He frowned.
He and Mac had talked last week and his friend hadn’t mentioned having any visitors. Maybe he planned to finally retire that hunk of junk pickup he drove and had picked up a newer used car.
Then Dev noticed the single door to the hangar looked slightly ajar. He dropped his hat in the passenger seat, climbed out of his Jeep and walked as quickly as the ache in his leg would allow to check it out.
Yep, definitely open.
Slipping inside, Dev paused a moment to let his eyes adjust to the dim interior. He skirted the protruding wing of the vintage plane Mac had lovingly restored piece by piece. His hand gently glided over the smooth fuselage even as his stomach tightened into familiar knots.
Mac had allowed Dev to help with the restoration after he’d become his sponsor, and had taken him for his first flight the day Dev had celebrated twelve months of sobriety. He’d also been the one who got Dev interested in flying helicopters and was there the day he’d earned his pilot’s license.
Not that Dev ever planned to be in the air again.
Refusing to allow his thoughts to head in that direction, he kept walking, ignoring the pain, until he could’ve sworn he heard—
Wind chimes?
Yes, that’s exactly what it sounded like, along with music that should only be heard in an elevator.
Wondering if Mac had left the radio on—though his buddy was more a fan of classic rock and roll than this stuff—Dev stepped into the back area of the hangar where Mac kept an office on one side and an all-in-one exercise machine on the other.
The sight of a very shapely feminine backside perched in the air stopped him in his tracks.
Hel-lo!
Dev took in the position of the arms and legs that went with the sexy backside. The woman was twisted tighter than a pretzel. Then she slowly untangled herself to stand straight and tall. Still facing away from him, she showed off miles of toned muscles thanks to a skimpy tank top and leggings that hugged her curves in all the right places.
And was that a tattoo on her shoulder?
Not wanting to startle whoever she was, Dev cleared his throat. Nothing. Was the music too loud for her to hear him?
He tried again but all she did was gracefully move into another position that left her balancing on one leg, arms stretched high over her head. She tilted her head back, a ponytail of dark hair brushing between her shoulder blades.
Impressive. If he tried that, even when he’d had two good legs, he’d be flat on his butt in two seconds.
Figuring the intruder was harmless, Dev took a few more steps and then leaned back against Mac’s desk. Crossing his arms over his chest, he ignored the pain the move brought and decided to enjoy the show.
He let his gaze travel the length of her, surprised when he felt his body responding in a way it hadn’t in months.
Not that he’d spent much time with the opposite sex since the crash, but this stranger was intriguing him in ways the blonde barmaid hadn’t even come close to.
Who was she?
Mac had a daughter from a long-ago marriage. Still, this woman was too young. Dev guessed she was in her late twenties, a few years younger than him.
She couldn’t be a girlfriend, could she? The last he knew, the feisty Ursula, owner of the local beauty parlor his mother visited every week, was the current object of Mac’s affections.
Maybe she was another lost soul looking for redemption?
His buddy had helped many members of the local Alcoholics Anonymous chapter over the years, often letting those who needed a place to crash stay in the otherwise empty cabin.
But Mac always kept his assistance to the male species. It was just simpler that way.
Surprised that the idea of her possibly being off-limits bothered him, Dev tucked away his growing interest. Time to make his presence known once and for all.
Looking away from her bare feet, he cleared his throat one more time and said, “Miss, I don’t mean to scare you—”
She whirled around, and suddenly a barrage of foam bricks flew at him, pelting him on his shoulders, the last one bouncing off his chin, cutting off his words.
More surprised than hurt, he easily deflected the next two bricks aimed at his head. Jerking away from the desk, he cursed under his breath as the familiar fire ripped down his leg and he wobbled like a newborn.
“Hey! Knock it off!”
* * *
Tanya Reeves stood, arm cocked, her breaths coming hard and fast, ready to hurl her last yoga brick at the tall stranger’s head. Her heart pounded in her chest, the hard-earned peace and tranquility from her yoga session blown to bits the moment she’d turned and found him behind her.
“Who are you?” she demanded, between huffs. “What are you doing here? Don’t you dare come one step closer.”
“I haven’t taken a step yet.”
She dropped the brick and grabbed her cell phone from the cushioned bench attached to the nearby weight machine. “You better not. I’m dialing 9-1-1 right now.”
“It’s not going to do you any good.”
She scooted back a foot and took a stance, pushing her sweaty bangs out of her eyes. It’d been a few years since her last karate class, but she could still deliver a roundhouse kick with the best of them.
Of course, this guy had to be almost six feet tall. Better shoot for the chest. “Yeah, well, we’ll see about that.”
The man perched himself against the desk again, his arms at his sides, fingers curling around the scarred edge. The corner of his mouth quirked into a slight grin.
A familiar grin?
“There’s no reception in here,” he continued.
She looked down at her phone. No bars. Damn!
“Don’t worry. You’re safe with me.”
Yeah, if I had a dollar for every time I’d heard that. A snort of disbelief escaped before she could stop it.
“I take it from your response you don’t believe me.”
Tanya relaxed, but kept a safe distance away. She was probably overreacting, but life had a way of teaching hard lessons. “I might if I knew your name and what you’re doing here.”
His smile grew, easy and natural, warming his icy blue eyes and sending her heart back into a rapid frenzy.
Because his eyes looked familiar, too?
No, that couldn’t be it. It had to be because he was tall, gorgeous and casually sexy in jeans and a button-down blue-striped shirt, pulled tight across nice shoulders.
Her gaze dropped to his feet.
Yep, cowboy boots, too.
Quickly blaming her renewed shortness of breath on her weakness for men in cowboy boots, Tanya looked him in the eye again, offered a raised eyebrow and waited.
“I’m a friend of the man who lives here,” he finally said. “The name’s Murphy. Devlin Murphy.”
Devlin?
And just like that, the memory of a stolen night a decade ago in Reno came back to her. After all these years, who would’ve thought the first person she’d run into in this town was the same drunken fool she’d shared what had been an almost-perfect evening with?
A fool who clearly had no idea who she was.
ISBN: 9781460319949
A WEAVER BEGINNING
Copyright © 2013 by Allison Lee Johnson
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