Miller Brothers in Love

by Erin Wright

  His voice died away in the darkness, and Abby heard all that he didn’t say but meant, and she felt panic well up inside of her. No reason to panic, Abby Connelly. There was never anything real between you and Wyatt anyway, and you know it. This is just the last reminder that you need to let it go.

  But instead of wiggling her way over onto her left side, turning away from Wyatt and his body and his warmth and his smell, she snuggled closer instead. Because it was Christmas Eve and if only for one night, she deserved to be happy. To pretend it could all be hers.

  Tomorrow would come soon enough.

  Chapter 13

  Wyatt

  Slowly, Wyatt came awake. He was cold, his nose and cheeks and ears feeling frozen, almost frostbitten, but his body was deliciously warm. And comfortable. There was a soft, warm body next to his that smelled so good. Even before he was fully awake, his dick was standing at attention. He wanted to snuggle up against…

  Abby Connelly?

  He froze, his arm wrapped around her waist, and his eyes staring at her profile, just an inch away from the curve of her ear. He wanted to lean forward and nuzzle her neck. He wanted to kiss his way over to her delightfully pink mouth, open as she breathed in and out softly, dead asleep to the world.

  The high windows running the length of the cell block let in a little light, weak and faltering and gray, but there. Enough to know who he was lying next to, enough to know that last night, when she’d invited him to sleep next to her, that it hadn’t been a dream.

  As cold as it was in the cell, what with his right arm out above the blanket and feeling only slightly warmer than popsicle, he knew that her allowing him to sleep next to her kept him warm enough to actually sleep. Lying on the cold cement jail floor, he might’ve otherwise spent a miserable night shivering, teeth chattering, trying to stay warm, even with Maggie.

  He drew his arm down, underneath the blankets, as quietly as he could, trying not to disturb Abby. As much as his mind knew that lying there with her was a Class A Awful Idea, his body…it quite liked the idea, to say the least.

  He closed his eyes, pretending for just a moment that he was at home, in bed, and it was his wife lying next to him.

  It was a dangerous game to play. He shouldn’t be playing it. He knew that, without a doubt in his mind.

  But that didn’t make the temptation any less real. Any less overwhelming.

  I think I’m falling in love with Abby Connelly.

  He squeezed his eyes as hard as he could, as if to push those words out of his mind.

  Even more so than wanting to sleep with her, falling in love with her was a giant no-no, complete with red flashing lights and a siren going a million miles a minute.

  Out of all the women in all the world to fall in love with, Abby was the Number One Worst Choice Ever. Her father hated his guts, she was his jailer, and…

  And…

  Well, he was sure there were more reasons that it wouldn’t work between them. He just had to take the time to come up with them.

  He searched, flipping through reasons, until he realized that every one of them were reasons that he was attracted to her. The way she’d laugh until she snorted, and then she’d turn this brilliant, gorgeous pink. How thoughtful she was, even requesting that the diner not put tomatoes on his sandwiches after their discussions on the downright awfulness of raw tomatoes and how they simply weren’t fit to be eaten.

  And she was gorgeous – absolutely, perfectly, wonderfully gorgeous. She’d been too skinny in high school; too much of a stick for his tastes. He hadn’t paid much attention to her back then, because she’d been so much younger than him, and because she just hadn’t been his type. He liked women with meat on their bones, not women who he’d crush just by looking at them sideways.

  But ever since high school, she’d started to fill out, her curves just right. Her curves, which were currently pressed against him. He stifled a groan. He was going to end up a eunuch if this lasted much longer, or at least wishing he was a eunuch. He only had so much self-control and the little that was there was rapidly disappearing, the longer she lay next to him.

  She mumbled in her sleep and his breathing stopped. As torturous as it was to lay next to her, it was even worse to contemplate having her leave. He didn’t want her going anywhere. At age 66, he would still want to be right there, hoping she would continue to sleep.

  But her mumbles got a little louder and then her eyelashes fluttered open. Her lips curled softly into a drowsy smile…

  Right before it hit her.

  She shot up in bed, clutching the blankets to her chest as she went. Wyatt instantly shivered from the blast of freezing cold air that hit him.

  “Hi. Good morning. I’m getting out of bed now. Sorry to disturb you. I’m leaving. Good day.”

  Throughout that barrage of words, she was trying to wiggle over him without actually touching him in the most awkward horizontal mamba in the history of mankind. She got to the edge of the bed and tumbled off, hair flying through the air as she landed with a loud thump on the floor. Maggie Mae, who’d curled up in the nest of blankets that Wyatt had left on the floor, stood up with a stretch and then nosed her new companion on the floor, taking a swipe at Abby’s nose and mouth in greeting.

  “Hi, Maggie,” Abby said, clearly not comfortable at all, while also still being about 52% asleep. “I need to go and I need to do stuff. Important stuff. Official stuff.” She scrambled to her feet, her wrinkled uniform in a disarray, and Wyatt was sure, for just a moment, that he’d spotted a red lacy bra before she straightened her shirt out.

  “You need any help with that important, official stuff?” Declan asked dryly. She whirled around, her hand on her chest. She obviously hadn’t realized Declan was awake any more than Wyatt had.

  “Sure. Yes. That’d be great. I’ll be upfront. I’ll meet you when you’re ready,” she said, scooping up her service belt on her way out of the cell. She left the door slightly open so Declan could get out without a problem and headed up front without looking back.

  Declan looked at Wyatt, then at the floor, then back at Wyatt again.

  “Wanna tell me about the sleeping arrangements last night?” he asked.

  “Nope.”

  “Didn’t think so.”

  Wyatt and Declan both slid out of their warm bunks and into the freezing cold air. Wyatt threw on his shoes and wrapped his blanket around himself as Declan got dressed for the day.

  “Hey Wyatt?” Declan said as Wyatt paused at the door of the cell, ready to let Maggie out into the courtyard for a morning bathroom run.

  “Yeah?”

  “Merry Christmas. Maybe next one will be better.”

  “Thanks. You, too.”

  Except as Wyatt walked with Maggie to the courtyard door, careful not to let the door swing shut behind him, he couldn’t help thinking that his Christmas morning hadn’t been too shabby.

  Chapter 14

  Abby

  January 3rd. After all of the waiting, the day had finally come. Thankfully, the roads to Boise had long ago been cleared after the Storm of the Century had raged through the valley, and they’d be able to make it there today. They could do a video linkup with Ada County if they had to, but that was always so awkward. People didn’t really feel like they’d had their day in court if they spent that day in a conference room instead.

  Abby looked at the schedule. Officer Rios should be coming in off patrols soon, which meant he could be the second officer required for the transportation of prisoners. Not that Wyatt was going to attack her and make a run for it, but it was official policy that two officers do a transport so that an officer was never left alone with a prisoner.

  Of course, in her and Wyatt’s case, that was a good thing, not because Wyatt was going to run for the hills or Abby was going to shoot him, but because then at least they could be sure they wouldn’t kiss.

  Because if they were in danger of doing anything, it was setting the sheets on fire with all of the spar
ks shooting off them. Something she really, really couldn’t allow herself to focus on, at least not while at work.

  “Abby, I’m going to be coming with you today.”

  Her father’s booming voice broke her out of her thoughts, and it took a moment for her to realize what he’d said.

  “What?” she asked dumbly, taken aback by his words. Surely her dad wouldn’t be coming on a transport. As the sheriff, he simply wasn’t involved in the day-to-day activities, like transporting prisoners to other counties. She couldn’t remember the last time he’d gone out on a prisoner transport. Probably not since the day they pinned that sheriff’s badge to his chest.

  “I’ve been cooped up in my office for too long. Time to stretch my legs and get outside,” her dad said with a fake, jovial smile.

  Stretch his legs…by getting into a cop car for 90 minutes? Fresh air? It was bullshit, plain and simple. She simply arched her eyebrow at him and crossed her arms over her chest. She didn’t say a word, and she didn’t have to.

  He scowled.

  “Don’t look at me like that. It’s nothing personal. I just want to get out of my office for the day.”

  “Uh-huh,” she said, the sarcasm dripping off each syllable like honey off a wooden spoon. “Okay, Sheriff.” As the sheriff, she couldn’t tell him what to do, and she knew it, and he knew that she knew it. And he was taking advantage of that fact, and they both knew that.

  “Go ahead and get the prisoner ready,” her dad said, brushing her off. She sighed and headed for the back. It was going to be a long-ass day. Her father and Wyatt in a cop car for an hour and a half, both ways?

  She might end up breaking up more than one fistfight today.

  When she came walking up to the cell door, Wyatt was already standing there, a big smile on his face.

  “Today’s the day,” he said, the happiness threading through his voice. This was the happiest she’d heard him since the day Declan had brought Maggie into the jailhouse. Speaking of…

  “You should probably take Maggie outside for a quick potty break before we leave,” she said, gesturing towards the snoring Maggie on the floor. “Otherwise, it’s going to be a long day for her.” It’s already going to be a long day for everyone else; it wasn’t right to torture the dog, too. She wasn’t looking forward to seeing Wyatt’s face when he realized that he was going to be stuck in a cop car for hours on end with her father.

  Wyatt flashed her a grateful smile. “Thanks, we appreciate it. C’mon girl, let’s go outside.” Instantly awake, Maggie stood up and shook out her coat, trotting over to the jail door. Abby unlocked it and swung it open, giving Maggie her mandatory pettings before letting them both out into the jail yard for a walk around and a pee break. Wyatt sent her another grateful smile as he walked past her, and the butterflies in her stomach went crazy, wilder than a bronco in a rodeo.

  Yup, a long day for sure, between a father who wanted to kill, and a prisoner who wanted to kiss.

  They made their way through the winding valley towards Boise, the river below only partially frozen over because of the speed and strength of the water flow, pine trees dusted with snow bending over the road above.

  It was a drive that Abby loved to take; most people in Long Valley dreaded the drive to Boise because of the hairpin turns and the much-too-skinny bridges that spanned the river every time the road crossed over it. Abby loved the views, though – the glimpses through the trees up into the endless blue skies, the rushing water over tumbling rocks below…it was wild and free.

  Everything that Abby was not.

  They got to the Ada County Courthouse and Abby helped Wyatt out of the car, holding his elbow as they walked towards the back entrance and into the courthouse. Her father walked along beside them, harrumphing as they went. He seemed upset by everything today – she was driving too fast. Too slow. Passing too many cars. Not passing enough cars. Her normally peaceful and gorgeous drive to Boise had been anything but. She was just happy to have finally gotten to stable ground, where she wouldn’t be told, “Stop riding the break so much.”

  Backseat drivers (or passenger seat drivers, to be completely accurate) were the worst, especially when they came in the form of her father, the sheriff, and her boss, all rolled up into one.

  Wyatt shot her a weak smile and she realized that he was as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. She smiled back, putting all of the warmth she could fit into the gesture. She gave a gentle squeeze on his elbow, which was as much as she dared to do with her father breathing down their necks, but he gave an answering smile back, and she knew he realized she was on his side, even if it sometimes felt like the rest of the world wasn’t.

  The clerk at the counter got them checked in and registered, then sent them down the hallway and to the left, to the courtrooms. They were seated in the back to await his turn, but unlike that day in the Long Valley courtroom, this judge was quick to call Wyatt’s name. He moved forward into the defendant’s area, meeting with his lawyer for a quick whispered discussion, as Abby and the sheriff moved to the front pews reserved for the audience.

  C’mon, Judge, don’t be a jackass. See the man in front of you. She sent up a plea to anyone and everyone who might be listening. If there was someone who deserved another chance to do the right thing, it was Wyatt Miller.

  Then they did something Abby had heard of but had never witnessed – they swore in the whole courtroom. All of the audience, the prosecutor, the defendant, all in one fell swoop. Everyone was told that they were swearing to tell the truth, rather than making the audience say it in tandem with each other, and Abby had to smile to herself. Very efficient courtroom. So different from Long Valley County, where old traditions die hard.

  The prosecutor stood up – a lawyer assigned to the case from Ada County, it was clear from the start that he just didn’t care about it. “Your Honor, Wyatt Mister—”

  “—Miller,” Wyatt’s lawyer said, interrupting.

  “Oh yes,” the prosecutor said, pulling the paper closer to his face to peer at it, “Wyatt Miller beat a gentleman up at a convenience store in an effort to stop the man from driving drunk. He’s since spent seven weeks in jail. I think he’s done his time and I move to drop all charges against him.”

  Abby’s eyebrows shot up, as did everyone else’s in the courtroom. If she’d sat down and tried to imagine the words that would come out of the prosecutor’s mouth as part of his opening statement, she would’ve guessed a hundred other scenarios before she imagined this one. Chaos broke out in the courtroom as people began whispering to each other and Abby felt her father’s shoulders tighten up.

  He was pissed.

  “Your Honor!” he said, shooting to his feet, anger vibrating in his voice.

  The judge began banging his gavel. “Order in the court!” he practically shouted over the noise. The audience settled down, but her father remained standing. Abby looked around the courtroom, not recognizing anyone there except Wyatt and his lawyer, of course. The rest of the people must all be waiting for their turn to be heard, and thus had no stake in the situation. She wondered how often the Ada County prosecutor suggested that the defendant simply be let free. She was guessing not very often.

  “Your Honor,” her father said again as soon as the noise level died down, “I protest! This is not the first time that Wyatt Miller,” he sneered the last name, “has beaten up someone who got in his way. He’s assaulted an officer of the law – me! I demand that he be punished for his actions. He cannot act as a one-man vigilante, beating up anyone who he deems deserves it. That’s no way to run a town and I won’t let it happen in mine!”

  The judge just stared at the sheriff for a long moment, and the noise level in the courtroom dropped to dead silence. And still, he continued staring. The sheriff started shifting from foot to foot, unsure of what to say or do. “Your Hon—” he finally started up again but the judge held up his hand, stopping him.

  “Mr. Miller,” he said, turning towar
d Wyatt, “at the beginning of this hearing, everyone was sworn in, including you. Would you be willing to waive your Fifth Amendment rights and stand up and answer some questions?”

  Wyatt’s lawyer leaned over and began whispering in Wyatt’s ear, but Wyatt waved him away and stood up. “I would, Your Honor.”

  The judge nodded gravely.

  “Tell me what happened the night that you assaulted our sheriff over there,” he said with a jerk of his head towards her father. Her father flinched and she could practically see him biting his tongue, trying to keep his temper. He wasn’t used to people dismissing him so easily and it rankled. Hard.

  Abby knew that the judge saw right through him, and realized that he wasn’t an unbiased bystander in the situation. Obviously, he didn’t know anything about the rumors around town or Wyatt buying the Connelly family farm off the auction block after it was foreclosed on or any of the rest of their awful history together, but he knew enough to know that her father wasn’t going to give Wyatt a fair shake.

  It was strangely comforting to find an outsider who saw the situation the same way that Abby did. In a small town that acted like an echo chamber so much of the time, looking at a citizen differently than everyone else tended to make a person start to question their sanity after a time.

  “I came home from a long day in the fields,” Wyatt said, his voice even. “I was exhausted and just wanted to go to bed. My wife needed milk for breakfast the next day, and asked me to go buy it. She’d had a rough day with our daughter, and had just wanted me to go take care of this for her.” His voice started to waiver a little and Abby could feel the pain rolling off him in waves.