Bittersweet: Can she rebuild her life?

by Lyz Kelley

  She decided that around 4 a.m. as she tipped back the last shot.

  The alcohol warmed her throat but did nothing to quiet her girly-bits, which were still protesting this morning.

  She tugged on a pair of jeans and T-shirt, fed the cat, grabbed her keys, then headed to town to buy one of Jenna’s ginormous sour cream pecan cinnamon rolls. The treat had enough calories and carbs to dropkick her hangover into the next century.

  Loaded with a tall coffee and a bag of indulgence, she made her way over to Lonely Ridge to check out a property for sale. Supposedly the property sat at the base of the ridge and sported six single- and two double-bedroom cabins with a large central building, office, and laundry facilities. She liked the location—just a ten-minute drive to town.

  The real estate agent emailed that the cabins had been newly renovated, but some people had funky ideas about design. The most recent place she’d inspected had red, teal, and brown flower-covered wallpaper in every room. A lifetime wouldn’t have been enough to strip the walls of that ugliness.

  She just had to learn how to be patient.

  Maybe this commercial property would meet her needs.

  She pulled into the parking lot and stopped, shoved open the driver’s side door, and dropped her sunglasses into place. Walking around back, she spotted the fire pit, grills, and picnic tables. She checked out a couple of cabins through the closed windows, then walked back to the main building, noting that the wooden staircase wobbled as she climbed to the second level. She peeked into the upper floor windows, her imagination filling the large, spacious room.

  The right contractor might be able to knock down a few walls to design the perfect yoga studio. She walked to the next window, but the hairs on her neck prickled. She pushed her senses outward and looked around to understand what her instincts were picking up.

  Then she saw him.

  Heath was standing in the yard, his hands on his hips, watching.

  Man, did he look splendid in his uniform. His pleated shirt to his creased pants to his shined shoes added up to a yumminess too hard to skip past.

  If he unbuttoned his shirt and mussed his hair he could have graced the billboards for any male review show in Vegas.

  The slight quirk of his mouth gave the impression that he’d caught her doing something naughty. If only his mirrored sunglasses didn’t hide the proof-positive indicator.

  “Heath. Are you following me?”

  His mouth tightened. “One of the vacationers called in, saying a woman was looking in their windows.”

  “Yeah, the owners mixed up the cabin numbers. Three was supposed to be vacant. My real estate agent should be here shortly.”

  His gaze swung wide as he took a panorama of the place. “Are you going into the rental cabin business?” The skepticism sunk in deep. “I thought you wanted to start a wellness center.”

  “Picture this,” she pointed to the main building. “A yoga studio on the top floor and a couple of massage rooms on the lower floor. And supposedly there’s a kitchen in the back. I could eventually offer nutritional classes, or bring in a chef to offer vegan and gluten-free lunches.” She pointed to the single-bedroom cabin at the back of the lot, near the a bank of trees. “I could live there.”

  “Why not take the larger cabin? It’s closer to the main building.” She liked his suspended judgment. In fact, his head-nod and his curiosity spoke of support.

  “I don’t need much personal space. I’ll be working most of the time, and doing some of the renovations myself. Besides, I’m thinking in the short-term I could rent the two-bedroom to offset a portion of the mortgage until the wellness center is operational. This main building will need a lot of work.”

  “Before you sign a contract, I can ask a couple of guys in town to look at the place to tell you if it’s structurally sound. They can give you a guestimate on what it would cost to do the work. Knowing the number might help with financing and making a decision.”

  A sense her idea might work filled her heart. She and her dad had long conversations about what she wanted to do with her psychology degree. Little did she know she’d use the skill set every day in the FBI to figure out who was telling the truth and who was lying their ass off.

  “That would be great.”

  He pointed over the shoulder. “Is the two-bedroom livable?”

  A niggle of caution rolled up her arms, and she squinted against the pain still thumping in her temples. “I’m not sure. The real estate agent said cabin one has been recently renovated. I'm not sure about the rest. Why?”

  “I’ve been looking for a place closer to town. Getting El to school every day hasn’t been easy. If you’re interested in a long-term renter, I might be your guy.”

  Your guy? Definitely a male, but he wasn’t hers.

  “Good to know.” She gripped the railing tighter. “I still haven’t decided whether this is the right place to open my center.”

  “What's missing?” He ambled to the staircase and began his climb. At the top, he again took in the space. “The place is close to town, yet still private. You have everything you need to host retreats. The only competition is the Elkridge Lodge and Spa up the road.”

  “I’m not worried. The Lodge charges four hundred bucks a night. I plan to deliver better service for less.”

  He ran his hand along the railing. “You’ve given this a lot of thought. Again I ask, what are you waiting for?”

  Too focused on his heated gaze, she almost missed the question. If she hadn’t been hung over and recollecting where his hands had been last night, she might have been smart enough to relocate behind the deck table and put a barrier between them. Instead, she let him close the distance. Inch by inch he came nearer, until he invaded her space.

  He smelled like freshly cut pine.

  “You look concerned,” he paused and leaned back a couple centimeters to study her face. “Do I scare you?”

  Yes. Her eyes narrowed. “I don't scare easily,” she threw back her shoulders and puffed out her chest to throw him off track. “I’m nervous this place would be too big an investment. For once in my life, I believe caution is necessary.”

  “Why start overthinking now? The rest of your life has worked out okay.”

  How would you know? she almost spat back, but didn’t bother...because he had a point. Her life had worked. For the most part.

  He shifted a little closer. “Take a chance.”

  “Are you talking about buying this place or us?”

  “Both.” His voice had dipped deep and was saturated with a sexual undertone. Oh, how she wanted to indulge and nibble on those scrumptious lips.

  “I don’t think us is a good idea.”

  He leaned in a bit more. “That’s the problem. You think in all or nothing terms. There’s no middle ground.”

  She pressed a palm against his chest and pushed. “One of us has to be practical. You’ve got a lot on your plate, and if I buy this place, my plate will be full—overfull.”

  “Great. We can do the dishes together and empty those plates.”

  “Oy vey. Did anyone tell you you're high-pressure?” She navigated around him, out of arm’s reach, and down the stairs. She needed more caffeine and carbs and comfort food if she had to deal with him.

  She yanked her car door open and grabbed her coffee and the white bakery bag. The coffee had finally cooled off enough to drink, and she took a long, slow swig, hoping the caffeine would kick in sooner rather than later. She plunged her hand into the bag for a chunk of sweet dough.

  “Are you ignoring me now?”

  Yes. Or at least she was trying to ignore his sexy ass, but forgetting about those hot abs and soft lips of his became impossible.

  “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings,” she mumbled around gooey sweetness.

  “You didn’t.” He paused. “But it’s time to confess. A minute ago you wanted to kiss me.”

  A kiss. Me? What? Was she an open book? How the hell did he know? She’d a
ced her classes in deception. He had to be guessing.

  She rolled her eyes to throw him off track. “Aren’t you on duty? Don’t you have someplace you need to be?”

  “I know where I want to be right now,” he slid a hand around her waist and hauled her closer.

  Several body parts responded to his need. Unfortunately her heart was one of them.

  His other hand slid around the nape of her neck and eased her in. He took his time, licking the sugary sweetness off her lips. She pressed in closer, giving and receiving, wanting what he offered, even though a half a second earlier she could have sworn she didn’t need anything from him.

  “Yum. You taste like heaven.”

  “There’s more in the bag,” she murmured.

  “I’d rather lick the frosting off your mouth.” He lifted her hand and sucked on her sticky fingers. “Thanks for sharing.”

  She groaned. “Why do we keep doing this? It’s like we’re bumper cars and we keep crashing into each other.”

  “It’s fun.”

  “No, it’s frustrating.” She admitted, though, she also wanted to tell him how amazing he made her feel. Which she couldn’t do without also accepting the repercussions. She also needed to think of Ellie as well. His niece played a part in her decision. “That’s my fault. We seem to have bad timing,” she squinted at the sun.

  “There you go again, taking responsibility when it’s not yours to take.”

  She tugged lightly on his shirt collar. “It is what it is.”

  She reached into the bag and grabbed another chunk of the cinnamon roll. “You sure you don’t want a bite? I’ll share.”

  “Oh, I want to bite something. I'm just not interested nibbling on a cinnamon roll when the woman in front of me is a far tastier treat.”

  Her mouth fell open and a little sigh drifted out.

  “And don’t look so shocked,” he arched a brow, “I’ve seen the way you’ve been looking at my handcuffs. Want to role play? I can play cop if you want to play robber.”

  He opened his mouth, and she shoved the wad of cooked dough in his mouth. He closed his eyes and chewed, his expression slowly escalating to an orgasmic state.

  Well sugar-coated-frosted-fruitcakes.

  He had to have seen the desire she was trying to hide, because he threw his head back with a vivacious laugh. His hilarity eventually subsided into a chuckle, and a quiet melancholy floated from her heart to her mind. Man, she liked this guy.

  “I’d better get back to the station. There’s a staff meeting starting in a few minutes.”

  She rolled down the top of the bakery bag while wishing she could find her off switch and turn her desire for this man off permanently. This back and forth BS was driving her insane and confused the hell out of her. And it must be worse for him.

  She yanked keys out of her pocket, but he slipped a hand around her waist, his gaze fixed on her mouth.

  “You have some extra frosting in your cheek. Want me to lick it off?”

  Desire detonated along her nerve endings. She wanted to make this man beg.

  Her skin hungered for his touch. She fisted his starched shirt and pulled him closer, to lick the corner of his mouth, then lips, then she kissed him until she forgot he had a meeting, forgot he had family responsibilities, forgot she'd sworn after three tequila shots never to kiss him again.

  She dropped her head to his chest. “What are we doing?”

  “Looks like we’re getting to know each other a little bit better.”

  “Yeah? Then what?”

  Her female parts screamed at her to shut up. Her mind continued to say “Don’t go there. Something terrible will happen again.”

  “I guess you’ll have to go dancing with me to find out.”

  “Dancing?”

  He tugged on her fingers. “I'm a really good dancer.”

  “Not cocky much, are you?”

  She’d always liked dancing, but most guys couldn't keep a beat. Her college roommate believed the better the dancer, the better the sex. Over the years, she'd proven her roommate's theory true with the guys she'd dated.

  “Okay. I’ll go.” If only to prove out a theory.

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  His smile widened. “I’ll figure out my schedule and text you.”

  “You don’t have my cell phone number.”

  “You mean the one you included on your driver's license registration? The one I’m not supposed to look up or have access to?”

  He laughed and surprised her by tugging her closer. Once she was plastered against his chest, her mind went blank. Heat sizzled up from her toes. The need to climb him like a ladder became urgent. His tantalizing scent. His hard body. The vibration of a groan resonated deep in his chest. The way his pulse hammered beneath the palm of her hand made her yearn for more.

  She reluctantly stepped back. “You’ll be late if you keep this up.”

  “Oh, shit. Yeah, I’d better go.” He kissed her on the nose. “I’ll text you.”

  Her body quivered as he raced to his cruiser.

  After he drove away a loneliness she swore she never wanted to feel, especially when it came to a man, gnawed its way inside her heart.

  She really shouldn’t allow him to get close. Everyone who did ended up hurt or dead. But she really wanted to be wrong this time.

  Closing her eyes, she sighed. If anything happened to him, she’d never, ever forgive herself.

  Chapter 14

  Heath backed out of the parking space and took another look at Leza.

  Yep, she still watched him.

  His heart did a leaping heel-kick at knowing he held her interest, and the sensual thermals flowing off her gave him a fist-pumping bonus.

  The wind lifted and tossed her hair. The sun made her face glow. If he could paint the perfect woman, Leza would fit perfectly in the picture frame.

  He rubbed his chest. His heart had gone through severe renovations during the past year. For years he’d trained to be an emotional zombie. To be cool under fire. To think and react as programmed. He preferred to play life in neutral. Staying locked down. Not getting entangled. Weaving and ducking through emotional traps.

  First El, and now Leza. The two females had kick-started his heart. Oddly enough, the past year made him realize his heart muscle was more than a mass of tissue.

  Then again, life had a way of screwing with a guy’s brain, because he never saw the likes of Leza coming.

  Her amazing kisses gave his guy parts a lesson in how to properly stand up and salute. Man, was he ever screwed. Every woman going forward would be compared to that kiss. He’d need to make sure that kiss—sensual, sweet, yet explosive, making him weak in the knees—wasn't the last.

  He gripped the steering wheel tighter to force himself to keep heading toward the sheriff’s office.

  Fifteen minutes later he walked into the staff room. The expression on the sheriff’s face made him want to turn around and walked back out.

  “Watson, you’re late.” Joe glared at him.

  Here we go. “Sorry, boss. I had to take a trespassing call.”

  “Make sure to write your report this time.”

  This time. What the hell? He wrote up all his calls. His hands still ached from typing the morning reports.

  “Is there a problem?”

  Ernie Baker, the senior deputy on staff, gawked at him. “You didn’t hear? Some guy is suing Jack and the department for a bar fight that happened last week.”

  No way. “It wasn’t a fight, so much as a waitress getting two guys to stop harassing her.”

  “So you were there…” Joe scoffed, his crossed arms cinching in a bit tighter, “…and you didn’t write up a report.”

  “Neither Jack nor Leza wanted to press charges.”

  “Obviously you haven’t absorbed what you’ve been studying,” Ernie mumbled. “You might want to re-read the chapter on complaint versus charge. Even if the victim doesn’t want to register a comp
laint, a prosecuting attorney can and will still file a charge, thus the reason why a report on every incident is to be filed.”

  The jerkwad behind him snickered. Great. F**in great. Embarrass me in front of the whole squad, why don’t you?

  His chest muscles and hands clenched simultaneously.

  “That’s enough,” Joe snapped. “Everyone take their seats. We have an agenda to walk through.”

  If a briefing meeting could be measured, this one topped the brutal list.

  He hated sitting through details of how Lizzy Cranston’s cat climbed the same tree for three weeks in a row, or about the Bainbridge sisters delivering baked goods to the station. He didn’t want to appear ungrateful for the lack of life-and-death drama, but shifting from cars exploding and buddies getting shot to pets and pies took some getting used to.

  His mind drifted back to a hot, sloppy kiss.

  “Watson!”

  His attention jerked back to the sheriff, then around the room, encountering various forms of snarky.

  “Yes, sir,” he said, even though he didn’t have a clue what he’d just agreed to.

  “Good. Meeting adjourned.” Sheriff Joe closed his portfolio and glared at him. “Watson, see me in my office.”

  Great. The sarcasm echoed in his head, and his last breath struggled to inflate his lungs.

  His feet dragged down the long tiled hall to his boss’s office.

  “Close the door,” Joe said as he walked behind the desk.

  The pounding of his heart thudded in his ears. ShitShitShit. He couldn’t lose this job. He just couldn’t. What would he and Ellie do? Where would they go?

  Okay. So he had been distracted lately. But that didn't mean he should be fired for not filing a damn report.

  He sank into the blue fabric chair too small for his frame. He didn't sit back, mainly because the egg sandwich he’d eaten for breakfast was now wadded into his stomach.

  “What’s up?” he asked, not wanting to wait for the sledgehammer that would eventually swing.

  “You tell me.” Joe gave him a look, reminding him of his sister's expression when she was about to issue one of her ten-minute lectures.

  “Look.” He rubbed his palms down the creases of his slacks. “You’re right. I should have filed a report.”