by Ryanne Corey
He took a moment before he answered. “So you admit you have a few problems controlling that monster outside?”
Jenny was too angry to be cautious. “A few problems? The thing is possessed by the devil. I’m lucky to be alive.”
His wide mouth quirked. “I believe you. I know a little something about motorcycles. That Harley is too much machine for you, Trouble.”
“That’s my problem, isn’t it?” She grabbed her wallet, opened it up and threw a twenty dollar bill on the table. “There. My criminal career is ended.”
“And a damn fine career it was,” he said.
“And now, amazing as this experience has been, I feel the urge to hit the road. Excuse me, Sheriff. It’s been a real treat.”
He blocked her exit, one hip braced casually against the edge of the booth. In the depths of his eyes, there was an unmistakable mixture of amusement and sympathy. He held her gaze, rubbing his square jaw for a lazy moment. “Let’s ponder those three words, shall we? Hit the road. Do you realize if you climb back on that motorcycle of yours, there is a very good chance you will do exactly that—splat.”
“Thank you for your concern,” Jenny replied with saccharine sweetness, “but I don’t want you worrying about lil’ old me. I’ve had a lot of experience taking care of myself. Now, is there anything else you would like to accuse me of, or am I free to go? Finally?”
He pulled a stick of Juicy Fruit gum out of his pocket, slowly unwrapped it and put it in his mouth, as if he had all the time in the world. “You forgot to stand in line when they handed out common sense, didn’t you? I’m afraid I can’t in good conscience allow you and your motorcycle out after dark. It would be a much better idea if you waited until morning to hit the road. That way other motorists would have a sporting chance of survival.”
Her eyes narrowed. It irritated her that he was standing so close, confining her, as if he had nothing to do for the rest of his life but make her life difficult. “It’s not dark yet.”
“Worse. It’s dusk. More accidents happen at this time of night than any other. It’s a documented fact.”
“Well, document this. I have places to go, and you’re holding me up.”
His blue eyes opened wide, as if he’d just had the most ingenious thought. “You know, you seem like an adventuresome girl. Why don’t you try something new? Be reasonable.”
“I’m not the one being unreasonable,” she snapped. “Are you going to let me out of here or not?”
“Lord, no.”
“Sorry, Mr. Sheriff, sir. It’s a free country and you don’t really have a say in it.”
He smiled, rocking back and forth on the heels of his well-worn boots. “Would you mind showing me your motorcycle license, ma’am? Just to make sure everything is in order?”
Silence. “My what?”
“License,” he said softly.
“I have a driver’s license—”
“Motorcycle license, ma’am.”
Jenny closed her eyes and counted to ten. “I haven’t gotten around to getting one yet. I’ve only owned the Harley for a couple of days. I’ll take care of it when I go home.”
“That won’t do,” he said almost apologetically. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to arrest you, ma’am.”
“You’re going to arrest me? For what? Forgetting to get a motorcycle license? Is that a felony around here?”
“It’s very bad,” Tyler said gravely. “Very bad.”
Jenny tossed back her hair defiantly. “Ha! You’re just trying to jerk my chain again. You’re going to put me in jail for a little oversight? That I’d like to see.”
But it happened so fast, she didn’t really see anything. His hands moved quickly over hers, there was a flash of silver and an ominous click.
She was handcuffed.
“You have the right to remain silent,” Tyler began. “You have the right to—”
“What?” Jenny was flabbergasted. A vein beat wildly in her throbbing temple, keeping perfect rhythm with her racing heart. “Are you nuts? You can’t keep me here, and you know it! I could sue you for false arrest. I could have your badge. I could—”
“Now you made me lose my place,” he grumbled. “I’ll have to start all over. You have the right to—”
“If you think for one second that you’re going to get away with this macho power trip, you’ve got another think coming. You picked the wrong—” Without warning, she felt herself being upended and tossed over his shoulder as if she weighed no more than a single little Mexi-fry. The red-and-white-checkered linoleum floor filled her bouncing vision.
“Women never take advantage of their right to remain silent,” Tyler Cook said. He started to walk, one arm clasped tightly around the back of her knees. “I don’t know why I even bother saying that part.”
Two
In high school, it hadn’t escaped Tyler Cook’s attention that the local girls had a weakness for a lanky cowboy with summer-blue eyes and an all-American smile. They enjoyed the way he walked, real slow and lazy, like he had no place to go and nothing to do when he got there. His appeal only seemed to increase when he put on his cowboy hat, and the ultimate drawing card seemed to be the bruises and abrasions and black eyes he got whenever he competed in a weekend rodeo. Riding mean-tempered broncos wasn’t exactly a safe or ordinary hobby, but he was young and relished the attention from the stands. Besides, he had a real talent for sticking like a burr to the back of a half-crazy bronco. Inevitably there were times when he ended up eating dust, but the sympathy he received from the buckle bunnies was ample compensation for a wide range of physical injuries. Tyler was young, curious and restless, and there were times when the pace of his small-town life got on his nerves. Like, all the time.
If truth be told, Tyler knew it wasn’t so much Bridal Veil Falls that irritated him as it was his own father’s attitude toward his only son. Gerald Cook believed that boys were to be molded with a heavy hand, and he had the heaviest hand in town. While Tyler’s little sister, Rosie, was spoiled and indulged, Tyler himself was the target of constant criticism and harsh physical punishment for any perceived weakness. According to his father, this would make a man out of him. Which it may have done, but it also made Tyler determined to leave his hometown in the dust the first chance he got.
After graduation from high school, Tyler wasted no time packing up his Chevy truck and heading for college at Montana State University. He had an athletic scholarship, which, along with a part-time job and a government loan, enabled him to get an education far from his father’s harsh disapproval. Unfortunately, his formal education came to an abrupt end ten months shy of graduation. His father had a stroke that prevented him from working the family farm. Tyler realized he had a responsibility to contribute to the family finances. Rather than go home and try to wring a pittance out of fifteen hundred acres of dry farm during a drought, he opted to join the rodeo circuit. Professional rodeo paid real well if you had a talent for it, and there wasn’t a bronc in the world Tyler couldn’t ride—saddleback or bareback. He had an empathy for wild things, possibly because he recognized some sort of long-suppressed wildness in himself. He sent home his winnings, though his father never openly acknowledged his son’s hard-won success. Even Tyler’s picture on the cover of American Cowboy magazine went unnoticed…or at least, unremarked.
The same day Tyler received the gold buckle proclaiming him the World Champion All-Around Cowboy, his father passed away from a second stroke. Though it was too late to come to an understanding with his father, there was no one else to look after his younger sister and grandmother, which necessitated his return to Bridal Veil Falls.
And so Tyler went home to uphold law and order, inciting a near riot among the unattached females of Bridal Veil Falls. For eight long years he dodged and ducked and sidestepped the avalanche of feminine attention, sweet potato pie and Toll House cookies continually coming his way while he waited for the right girl to come along. He knew exactly what he was looking fo
r—someone he could chase until she caught him. How hard was that? She would be tall and willowy, with lustrous dark hair and an adorable dusting of freckles across her cute little nose. Oh, he’d know her the minute he saw her, that much was certain.
Which was why he was nearly knocked out of his Tony Lama cowboy boots when he walked into Enchilada Ernie’s to arrest a criminal and found his soul mate.
There she was. There she was.
It was destiny at first sight. Tyler certainly hadn’t expected her to come barreling into town on a Harley-Davidson, with wild copper hair and a “just try me” expression on her face, but there she was, anyway. She wasn’t what he had expected all these years, but she was so much more. Barely five feet tall, with enormous doe-brown eyes shimmering over high cheekbones. Her tank top was tight beneath her studded leather vest. Her ears were triple-pierced. Her hands were perpetually clenched in frustrated little fists. Not the woman he had expected all these years, but damned if she wasn’t the one he’d been waiting for all his life. Best of all, there was no predatory glint in her eyes, just a hectic, high-flying spirit that reminded him of his own. No, best of all she had a ring on every single finger except the all-important “she belongs to me” finger. Yippee!
Unfortunately, when sweet Ella had turned out to be the criminal, Tyler had been left with no way to keep his soul mate in town. Fortunately, a stroke of genius had prompted him to ask Jenny for her motorcycle license. It was a happy man indeed who walked out of Enchilada Ernie’s with the woman of his dreams slung over his shoulder like a rather light bag of potatoes.
She didn’t wear perfume. In fact, she smelled a little like motor oil and salsa, but he didn’t mind that at all. Had she been able to see his expression while he walked to his patrol car, she would have seen the crooked, whimsical smile that had been pulverizing female hearts for years. But she couldn’t see anything but the black asphalt parking lot, poor thing, and all her energy was going into squirming and shouting and pounding on his back with those frustrated fists.
“Settle down,” he told her, trying to sound stern and commanding, rather than amused. “You’re going to hurt your lovely petite self.”
Jenny’s chin bounced hard between his shoulder blades. “I’m not the—ugh!—the one who is going to get hurt. You’re going to be so sorry you ever—”
“Listen, if you don’t behave yourself, I might get the idea you’re resisting arrest. You don’t want to be charged with that as well, do you?” He set her down next to the passenger door, being careful to keep her arms pinned to her sides. “Face the facts, Trouble. You’ve just been put in protective custody, and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it.”
Jenny tossed her head so high her hair hit him in the face. “Protective custody? That’s a joke. Just what are you supposed to be protecting me from? Normal people? I hate to tell you this, Sheriff, but you don’t fall into that category.”
His smile came ever so slowly, crinkling his eyes, denting one cheek and glossing him over with a heavy dose of country charm. He leaned forward, putting his mouth close to her ear. “I’m protecting you from yourself,” he said softly. “I hate to break this to you, but you’re not exactly normal, either.”
Jenny swallowed painfully, rubbing hard on her neck where his breath had tickled her. She really didn’t like anyone this close to her, invading her personal space and making her stomach feel as if a fist had grabbed hold of it. There was a disturbing warmth in his eyes, radiating through her skin and bones, heating her up way down inside. Instinctively she tried to back away, only to come up hard against an unyielding police car. “Thank you for your honesty. Now tell me how much it’s going to cost me to get out of this motorcycle license thing. That’s what you want, right? Some kind of bail money?”
That’s not at all what I want, Tyler thought. But aloud he said, “I’m in such a good mood today, I’m willing to forgo the whole bail thing—on one condition.”
Jenny’s defensive little chin went up another notch. “Really? And what might that be?”
Tyler grinned. “I hope you don’t think my interest in you is anything but official. I’m simply looking after your best interests. The road from here to Helena is murder if you’re not familiar with it, one switchback after another. Are you familiar with it?”
Immediately she replied, “Yes.”
“Liar. You wouldn’t make it ten miles on that road before you plopped yourself and that nuclear scooter in the river.”
“That’s my problem.”
Tilting his head thoughtfully, he slowly rocked up and down on the heels of his boots. “Well, now…that’s where you’re slightly confused. As a public official, I’m charged with the welfare of every man, woman, child and childlike woman in my jurisdiction. As long as you’re in this town, you’re my responsibility. In daylight the idea of you on that Harley is scary enough. But at night? No way are you leaving here tonight.”
For a moment Jenny felt queasy. She had the unnerving sensation of being out of control, caught like a mouse in a trap. Her freedom was more important to her than food, air or water. “You can’t force me to stay here overnight. You can’t force me to stay anywhere.”
“Not here in the parking lot,” he agreed. “That would be cruel and unusual punishment. You have two options, Trouble. You can check into the Cotton Tree Motor Lodge or you can stay in our little jail. I wouldn’t recommend the jail—the mattresses are like concrete. But the choice is yours. In the morning, after I give you a crash course on riding that Harley—no pun intended—you’ll be free to leave. I’m a friendly guy, remember? As long as you cooperate, I won’t even ticket you for not having a motorcycle license. See?” White teeth flashed. “I’m a very nice person.”
She held his eyes for a silent, simmering moment. “You are a very bad person,” she said, jabbing him in the chest with her finger. “This is blackmail, and you know it.”
“Pretty much.”
“And what’s more, you’re enjoying it.”
“Right on that one.” He grinned, deep grooves framing either side of his expressive mouth. “Can’t put one over on you, can I? Which will it be, Trouble? Jail or the Cotton Tree?”
Jenny’s hands slowly closed into fists at her side. She was trapped and she knew it, which made the situation even harder to swallow. Restraint suffocated her. Her cheeks were burning, but she never took her eyes away from his. “All right,” she snapped. “I’ll check into the Cotton Tree like a good little hostage. But come morning I’m out of here.”
“Thank you so much,” Tyler said, hand over his heart. “May I open the door for you?”
“What about my bike?”
“I’ll have someone bring it over to the motel.” He adopted a wide-eyed cherub’s expression, which was enhanced by the tangled fringe of honey-bronzed hair beneath the brim of his hat. “In the morning, of course. I wouldn’t want you sneaking out of town tonight when I wasn’t looking. Motorcycle keys, please.”
“You don’t trust me?”
“Not at all. Keys?”
She retrieved the keys from her back pocket and slapped them into his waiting palm. “Do you mind if I get my duffel bag out of the storage compartment, or would you like to impound that, too?”
“Not at all.” Dimple in gear, an amused Tyler tossed the keys into the air and caught them. “I’ll be more than happy to get it for you. After you get in the car.”
Jenny pushed his hand away as he reached past her to open the door. She opened it herself, teeth ground together hard enough to make her jaw ache. Giving him one last murderous look, she climbed in, slamming the door shut with astonishing force from such a petite woman.
She didn’t see Tyler laughing. She couldn’t; he had his face buried in his arms on top of the car.
Tyler was a realist. He knew he definitely had his work cut out for him.
He braked for a stop sign and glanced sideways at his unhappy captive, raising his eyebrows as he noted the sullen set of her lower
lip. Apparently, she didn’t think being arrested was romantic. She wasn’t talking, she wasn’t moving, he wasn’t even sure she was breathing. Such a defensive little soul.
“Try to remember this is for your own good,” he said cajolingly, trying to win a little smile. He’d never had trouble coaxing a smile from a woman. Until this woman.
Jenny sniffed disdainfully and slumped farther down in her seat. This was the first sign of life she’d shown since Tyler had started the car.
He tried again. “Bridal Veil Falls isn’t such a terrible place to spend the night, you know. It’s a nice little town.”
At that, she laughed out loud. “I’m sure. Although it should have been named Bride Falls on Her Head, like some creepy town in a Hitchcock movie.”
Tyler grinned, then took his right hand off the steering wheel, driving with his knee while he patted her shoulder. “Hey, don’t knock it till you’ve tried it. If you give it a chance, you’ll see that Bridal Veil Falls is a perfectly normal town. And who knows, you might like it so much you’ll decide to stay.”
“Yeah, right,” Jenny replied. Unsettled by Tyler’s casual touch, Jenny shifted away from him. “Now stop driving with your knee or I’ll make a citizen’s arrest.”
He put both hands back on the wheel, slanting her a quizzical look. “I’m just a wild and crazy guy, I guess. You don’t like to be touched, do you? Sorry. I was just trying to lighten the mood a little.”
“I can handle my own moods,” she muttered. “Since you’re keeping me here against my will, I’m sure you’ll understand if I don’t want to become bosom buddies.”
“Whatever you say.” He turned into the parking lot of the Cotton Tree Motor Lodge, pulling up in front of a lighted soft drink machine. He kept the car idling, giving her a look of blue-eyed innocence. “Seeing as how you don’t want to be friends, I won’t inflict myself on you further by going in with you to register.”
