by Calista Fox
“Good thinking.” Sheriff Johnson’s attention shifted to Ginger. “You live out on the lake where we don’t patrol on a regular basis. It’s rural and your house is set way back. I’m worried about our response time if they happened to have followed you home at some point. They might come after you again.”
Her gut coiled tight as he continued. “I don’t mean to offend you, but given your size, you’re basically easy pickings, Ginger.”
She spared a glance at Ryan, but he smiled confidently and said, “You’ll be fine, sweetheart. I’ll make sure of it.”
“All right, then,” the sheriff said. “We’ll get cracking on this.”
Reese borrowed the phone on Deputy Baker’s desk, placing a call to Liza.
Ginger’s tension ebbed, but quickly returned when the sheriff said to Ryan, “I’ll get your gun from the safe.”
Panic shot through her. “No gun,” she said as she held up her hand. “Absolutely no guns in my house.” She said this to Ryan, giving him a pointed look.
“Ginger—” the sheriff started to say, but Ryan jumped in.
“It’s okay. From what we’ve learned so far, those men aren’t armed. If that’s truly the case, I can handle them. I’m a black belt.”
Taken aback, she asked, “Seriously, do you excel at everything you do?” Because he certainly had romance, rescuing damsels in distress and following his convictions down pat.
He chuckled. Under his breath, he said, “That remains to be seen.” In his normal tone, he told the sheriff, “I’m okay without the gun.”
Sheriff Johnson mentally debated this a moment, then nodded. He said, “I’m going to take a look around this evening and check in with others to find out if they’ve seen these guys. We’ll regroup in the afternoon when you get back from Austin.”
Ginger’s brow furrowed. Obviously Ryan was involved in the investigation to an extent, but to be working so closely with the sheriff on it? And what business did he have in Austin? For that matter… “Why is your gun in the safe here? And more importantly, why do you even own a gun?”
“We can talk about that later, sweetheart.” Reese was off the phone and he said to her, “How about we escort you to your car and we’ll all head over to the B&B so you can pack a bag and I can get my things and stow them in my truck.”
“Absolutely,” she agreed. “I’d feel much better if you were there while I throw a suitcase together.”
They departed the office and the sheriff headed off to make his rounds.
When they reached Reese’s car, Ryan told her, “I’m parked by Pietro’s.”
“So am I,” Ginger told them.
“We’ll stop into the restaurant on the way to our vehicles,” Ryan said, “to warn Ruby about our thieves. Reese, why don’t you meet up with us there? Just park outside until Ginger and I join you. Keep your windows up and your doors locked.”
She nodded as she reached for her seatbelt.
Ryan took Ginger by the elbow and they left the lot, walking toward Pietro’s. Ginger felt pensive. Something was definitely not right with this entire scenario.
When they entered the restaurant, Ruby said, “Changed your minds and decided to eat here?”
With a shake of his head, Ryan said, “Just wanted to let you know there have been a couple of robberies in the area, so be on the lookout for two guys—one tall with dark hair, the other stockier with red hair. Call 911 immediately if you see them, Ruby.”
“Who got robbed?” she asked, shocked. The town wasn’t devoid of crime, but it was much less prevalent than in bigger cities, naturally.
“I did,” Ginger admitted. “And Reese just got mugged in one of the parking lots, so be sure Mike’s walking you out if you drove separately. You also might want to warn your customers as they’re leaving.”
“I will.” To Ryan she said, “Keep me posted. I heard about your new job. Congratulations.”
Dread slithered down Ginger’s spine. As they left the restaurant, she said, “Apparently there is a secret that can be kept in this town, and it’s being kept from me. What’s going on?” she demanded. “Why are you working so closely with the sheriff, and what’s your new job?”
“No one’s keeping secrets, darlin’. I was going to tell you at dinner. I’m an additional deputy in town, as of this afternoon.”
Ginger drew up short again, her heart stammering. Ryan stopped and turned to face her, a quizzical look on his face.
“That’s why you’ve been Mr. Crime Fighter all this time. And the reason you have a gun.” Her stomach clenched.
He said, “I left it with the sheriff because there’s no safe in my room at Reese’s B&B and I can’t just leave it out in the open when I’m there.” His expression instantly softened as he stared at her, realization obviously dawning on him. “Ah, Ginger. Damn, I forgot about your mom, sweetheart. I’m so sorry.”
Her throat tightened as tears sprang to her eyes. Ryan closed the gap between them and he grabbed her hand.
A few passersby took note of them, but for once, Ginger didn’t care. Her bliss with Ryan had been shattered by this unexpected and disturbing news.
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s talk about this at your house. I’d drive you home, but I’ve got to be on the road to Austin early in the morning, and I don’t want to leave your car unattended overnight. Our crooks will likely steal it.”
Ryan’s gaze continually swept their surroundings as they headed toward their vehicles. Ginger swiped at the fat drops rolling down her flushed cheeks.
He pointed out his truck—a big, beefy thing in black with a double cab—and said, “After we stop at the B&B, I’ll follow you home.”
“I’m still in my grandparents’ house. They left it to me.”
“I’ll be right behind you.” He held the door of her car open as she slipped into the driver’s seat.
Ginger didn’t say anything further, grateful for a few minutes alone to process the evening’s unexpected turn of events. Ryan closed the door and she waited for him to put their dinner in the backseat of his truck and climb in. She backed out of her spot and met up with Reese. They drove their small convoy over to the B&B so Reese and Ryan could pack. Then they all took the junction that led out of town toward the lake. Reese veered off before them, on her way to Liza’s cottage, which sat on Jack’s property.
Ryan was close behind her, though even if she somehow lost him, he knew exactly where he was going. He’d been to the house several times, always lending a hand to help her grandfather move furniture or any other heavy object.
She took the long, winding drive down to the lake house and Ryan parked alongside her. They were both silent as they passed through the front door.
Ryan set the containers on the entryway table, then said, “You stay here in the foyer. I’ll check the house.”
He went about his business, turning on lights and inspecting every room. Apparently confident no one had broken in, he returned to where she stood on the raised hardwood platform by the entrance. Lifting the boxes in one hand and taking hers with the other, he led her into the open kitchen. He set the food on the large island that overlooked the living room.
Ginger’s thoughts were still on his earlier revelations. Clearly, so were Ryan’s.
Letting out a long breath, he said, “I know exactly why you were upset over the gun at the sheriff’s office.”
“My mother was shot at the high school because some kid was showing off his dad’s 9mm. It was an accident, yes,” she said, trying to keep her emotions under control this time. “He didn’t think it was loaded and he didn’t know enough about guns to keep the safety on at all times. One slip and…”
She shook her head. A split second and Ginger’s mother had lost her life. Her father had lost an adoring wife and Ginger had lost the most caring, compassionate person she’d ever known. And then her father had committed suicide a week later. He’d asphyxiated himself in the garage while Ginger was here at her grandparents’ house.
>
The entire community had been rocked to the core of its foundation. Walter and Theresa Monroe had been devoted to their family, dedicated to their jobs as teachers at the high school and committed to volunteering at the church. Even the Bains had admired them.
She said, “I just… I don’t approve of guns, Ryan. You have to know that. One shot destroyed my family.” She groaned, feeling the weight of the situation as though an anvil sat on her chest. “And now you’re going to be carrying one around.”
He took a step toward her and grazed her jawline with his fingertip. Staring deep into her eyes, he said, “I’m not a teenager who stole his father’s pistol to impress his friends, Ginger. I’ve taken NRA safety classes, I’ve completed police academy training and I’ve got a level head.”
“I’m not saying you don’t know what you’re doing. I’m just telling you…” Her voice trailed off and she swallowed a hard lump of emotion in her throat. “I don’t know what I’m telling you. Except that I don’t want a gun in my house.”
His fingertips brushed her temple. “I don’t have it with me, sweetheart. Relax. This isn’t even an issue right now.”
She tried to see his side of things, but the way she felt about him made Ginger worry over the troubling situation. No, they hadn’t declared love at first sight, nor were they in the position, or at the point, to make any long-term arrangements with each other. So getting wrapped around the axle at the moment wasn’t entirely reasonable. Besides, as he’d said, he hadn’t brought a weapon into her house.
“I’m sorry,” she told him. “Maybe I’m just overly sensitive because of all the unexpected events of the past few days.”
“Maybe.” He gave her an easy smile before his head dipped. His lips grazed hers. A soft, barely there kiss that made her heart flip-flop. He murmured against her mouth, “Why don’t we have dinner?”
She nodded, though neither one of them stepped away. His hand slid around to cradle the back of her head as his lips skimmed over hers again, teasing and tempting her.
Ginger’s pulse kicked up several notches. The intimate gesture felt right, deep in her soul, but it also sparked erotic sensations she wasn’t fully familiar with and which were somewhat overwhelming. Her nipples tightened behind her black satin-and-lace bra. Her chest rose and fell a bit quicker as her breathing escalated. A prickle of desire along her clit and a dull throb in her pussy created a hot, restless feeling inside her.
When Ryan’s mouth pressed more firmly to hers and they simultaneous parted their lips, she had to clutch his biceps as she swayed a little on her high heels. His tongue swept over hers, twisting in a playful way that quickly turned sexy and made her even hotter. With one hand still at the back of her head, the other gripped her hip and he eased her toward him until their bodies touched. Her breasts pressed below the hard ledge of his pectoral muscles, more against his rib cage than his chest.
Feeling his hunky body against hers did all kinds of wicked things to Ginger’s insides. The throbbing deep within her was insistent and demanding. The tingling of her clit was an electrifying sizzle that made her want to pull his hand from her hip and drag it down between her legs.
She’d never experienced the pleasure of having a man’s hard muscles conform to her softer curves, nor had she ever had one kiss her with such passion that it made her entire body go up in flames. It was unnerving how quickly he set her on fire, but it was also titillating and so welcomed.
When he finally broke their kiss, they were both breathless. He stared down at her with heat and desire in his shimmering cerulean irises. Ginger was grateful he had a solid grip on her, because she practically melted to the floor under his intense, yet sinfully delicious gaze.
“Sorry about that,” he said in the low, intimate voice that felt as though warm honey oozed down her spine. “Couldn’t help myself.”
“Did you hear me complaining?”
He grinned at her once more. “No, I did not.”
“So feel free to do it again.”
This time, his lips tangled with hers, gently tugging and suckling until her soft moan filled the quiet room. His grip on her tightened and he kissed her with fervor, lighting her up all over again.
Endless minutes seemed to slide by as his tongue delved deep and she responded to his kiss. A small whimper of protest fell from her lips when he eventually pulled away.
In a strained tone, Ryan said, “Maybe we ought to take this slow, sweetheart.” Lust and fire flickered in his eyes as he stared down at her. “This could get out of hand fast.”
She could barely breathe, but managed to say, “I think you’re right.” Her heart hammered in her chest as though she’d just swam from one end of the lake to the other. Flames seemed to dance along her skin and the fiery sensations inside her singed her to core of her being.
Every ounce of her wanted to feel his hands and mouth on her body. But despite what Lydia Bain might think of her, Ginger was not a loose woman. In fact, she was still a virgin. Not necessarily because pre-marital sex was frowned upon by the church she attended—she’d never let the reverend and his wife dictate what she could or couldn’t do in the privacy of her own bedroom. Rather, Ginger had never met a man who’d made her want to throw all her inhibitions out the window and make wild, passionate love all night long.
Until now…
Stepping out of Ryan’s embrace, she said, “I’m going to change out of this dress, if you don’t mind.”
“Careful about what you slip into.” He winked at her. “You’re already testing my restraint.”
Her stomach took a wicked tumble. “Ryan Bain,” she said in a mockingly chastising voice. “I’ll have you know I’m a very respectable woman.”
He chuckled. “Hopefully, not too respectable.”
Heat tinged her cheeks and neck. She laughed softly and shook her head as she turned away, took the step up to the foyer platform and rounded the corner to the hallway that led to two decent-sized bedrooms and one guest bathroom. Her own bathroom in the master suite was large and boasted a walk-in closet. She quickly stripped off her shoes and clothes, and reached for a pair of drawstring pants and a tank top, but suddenly changed her mind.
Although, yes, they needed to take the sexual aspect of their relationship slow, Ginger still had the burning desire to wear something sexy for Ryan. For years, she’d owned an entire rack full of nightgowns, with no one to show them off to. In her top dresser drawer, she had some sexier ensembles, but hanging in her closet was a selection of pretty, satiny gowns that only occasionally saw the light of day, when Ginger was in the mood for a glass of champagne, a warm fire and something frilly to wear.
It was really quite depressing to think she’d wandered around this big house all dolled up and all by herself for the past three years. There had been many nights when loneliness had crept around the fringes of her contentment. She’d spent years convincing herself all that really mattered was that she had her boutique. She couldn’t bring back her family, and she certainly hadn’t sparked with anyone in Wilder before now. So she’d resigned herself to the old-fashioned notion of spinsterhood, and had made it tolerable by surrounding herself with good friends and by working hard at her store.
But she’d experienced pangs of abandonment and a twinge of forlorn despondency, though she’d never shared that with anyone. Not even Liza. Instead, she’d suffered in silence.
This evening, however, there was a very gorgeous man in her home, who did ignite her passion and who chased away her lonesomeness. And he clearly wanted her. There’d been no mistaking it in his kiss, or in his heated gaze.
And Ginger wanted him.
Sticking with the theory of not pushing red-hot buttons too hard, she chose a beautiful midnight-blue, full-length nightgown. Removing it from the padded hanger, she slipped the garment on and surveyed herself in the three-way mirror. With a nod, she thought it’d do quite nicely. The capped sleeves and bodice were all lace, with a vee’d neckline and back. Just below her rib
s, the lace ended and satin flowed over her belly, hips and upper thighs, then flared slightly as it cascaded to the floor. Proper Southern Belle with the hint of the risqué.
She pulled on the matching satin robe that had a slim tie just below her breasts. The sleeves were fitted, and three-quarters length. She added the lacey thong that matched the bodice, stepped into a pair of three-inch, silver slippers and then primped quickly at the vanity.
Mustering her verve, she returned to the kitchen. Ryan had set out their dinner on plates at the island, rather than in the formal dining room that sat partially behind the living room. He’d poured wine and was sipping his when she walked in. His head snapped up and his eyes widened.
“Good Lord, Ginger Monroe.” He let out a whistle of appreciation. “Or should I call you Marilyn?”
She laughed. “No one has ever called me that.”
“I don’t know, sweetheart,” he said with a shake of his head as his gaze roved her body. “You’ve got sexy down pat.”
“It’s just a robe,” she said as she slid onto the high-backed barstool across from him.
“No, that’s a heart attack waitin’ to happen.”
She couldn’t fight back the smile that touched her lips. “Thank you.”
A low groan from him told her he liked what he saw. “If you always eat dinner dressed in something that provocative, I’m moving in.”
Excitement rippled through her. “I do enjoy my nightgowns. No one ever sees them, though.”
He seemed to give this thought, then said, “I was wondering why you were still single. Damn glad, mind you. But I just can’t fathom it.”
“Slim pickings,” she said. “And I never wanted to settle for amiable male companionship. If that were the case, I would have married Dixon Hunter when he proposed to me at the prom.”
“Oh yes. He was smitten with you,” Ryan mused. “Followed you around as if he was a puppy dog hoping for bone, with those big brown eyes and a sappy grin on his face. Never did take kindly to me carrying your books.”
