by Riley Scott
“That was my Chloe.” A single tear slid down his cheek. “Sorry,” he said, hiding his face.
“Don’t apologize for that,” she said, leaning forward. “I’ve cried many tears myself, and it’s okay to miss her. In fact, I’d be worried if you hadn’t shown that kind of emotion. She was the most genuine, most beautiful soul I’d ever met. And it’s okay if tears come with memories.”
He nodded and cleared his throat. He tipped his coffee cup up to his mouth and drank the last of it. “I’ve got to get going, but I’m going to stop back in here from time to time, if you’re okay with that. I think this did my old heart some good.”
“You’re welcome anytime,” she said, standing when he did. She walked around the corner and wrapped him in a hug.
“Thank you…for the coffee, the chat, and for telling me the truth. I just want someone who will remember her the way I do.” He turned to go but stopped before he reached the door.
“What is it?” she asked, as he looked over his shoulder.
He shook his head and walked back toward her, taking time to look closely at her right hand, which she had placed on the counter. Knitting her brow, she glanced down at her hand as well while he stared in silence.
“Small hands,” he said quietly, after a moment of observation.
“Yes, sir,” she said. “Any reason that’s important?” His behavior was odd, but she didn’t feel uncomfortable.
“I’m sorry,” he said, taking a step back. “It’s just that they can’t find the prints of the Westwick kid or anyone else anywhere. Ah damn! That’s supposed to be stuff I don’t know. They just told me because I’m friends with Wes, but no one is really supposed to know the details. Don’t say anything, okay?”
She nodded and stepped closer, needing to know more. “I won’t say anything.”
He eyed her cautiously and sighed, leaning against the counter. “All right. If Chloe trusted you, I guess I do too. Thing is, Ryan’s name is cleared for the most part. We can’t put him anywhere near the scene of the crime. In my heart of hearts, I also know he’s not capable of this. But everything in my gut points to Westwick.” He shook his head, disgust seeping through his features. “His damn prints aren’t anywhere in the house though. His truck tires are a match for the ones in her driveway, and they match the time stamp when he would have been there to commit the murder. But there were only two sets of prints on that knife. Chloe’s, and one set with smaller prints. Thought maybe you might know something about it.”
His tone wasn’t accusatory. She breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks for not thinking it was me who did this,” she said, letting out a sad laugh. “I think that would have been my first guess had something like this happened and I thought it could have been someone’s prints on the knife.” She glanced at the ground, recalling the last time she had used that knife. “They probably were mine.” She gulped. “I made her dinner that evening…before she went out. I did my share of checking on things in the case. Benefits of a small town full of gossip. I got chills when I saw the knife, the same one I used to slice her brisket that evening.”
Bill winced. Turning away, he nodded. “I won’t say anything,” he said, waving as he headed back for the door. “I know you don’t want all that out in the open yet, so it’s just good peace of mind for her papa. Now I can target all of what I feel at the Westwick boy and know there’s not someone else out there.”
She nodded and waved as he walked out the door. Dominique’s face flashed in her mind, next to Chloe’s. It felt as though they were ships about to collide, even if one was no longer in the water. She knew what she was feeling for Dominique. Her feelings were forbidden, but they were growing daily.
But it wasn’t right. How could she even entertain the thought of wanting to flirt with someone when Chloe was supposed to hold that spot? And given what was unearthed over coffee with Bill, it was apparent those memories weren’t going to just fade away.
She walked over to the window, noting how everyone had gone on about their lives, just as Bill had said. No one was coming into the shop for a while, so she flipped the sign to “Closed” and locked the door. Sitting back down on the couch, she laid her head back as hot tears stung her eyes.
She knew only one thing: her heart had never been this confused or in this much pain.
Chapter Nine
Fireflies flitted through the air, mixing with the stars near the riverbank. Dominique breathed in deeply, pleased to find that it smelled of nature—not city. The small campfire they had lit filled the air with a scent reminiscent of childhood and vacations. It danced in the background, creating a magical glow to an already perfect setting. Of course, there was the slight hint of cow manure mingled into the mix of smells, but it was a welcome change, a chance to unwind.
“What are you thinking about?” Amy’s sweet voice interrupted her thoughts but in no way changed her level of serenity.
“I was just thinking how nice it is out here. And even though the circumstances suck, I like getting to come down here and visit.” Amy smiled and moved closer to stand beside her. Though they were still half a foot apart, Dominique’s body went wild. She was playing with fire, but she wasn’t the only pyromaniac out there tonight. “And to see you,” she added quietly.
“I get it,” Amy said, turning to face Dominique. “I hate the reason you have to come visit. But I love when you do. Sometimes I feel guilty because I enjoy your visits so much, and I don’t want you to leave. I know you have important work and that this is part of that work. Even so, I’m really thankful you get to come see me. Being here in person with you sure beats seeing you on a Skype screen—not that I don’t like that, but this is better.” She winked and turned her face upward to the sky. Dominique was grateful she had turned away, because that wink was almost enough to undo her.
“It is pretty tonight,” Amelia said, tracing her fingers through the sky as if to connect the stars.
“It sure is,” Dominique said, not looking up at the sky. She was staring at the one who had her attention—the quirky, rambling, hot mess of nerves with a bold heart, Southern charm, and just enough mystery to drive her crazy. Amy’s soft-looking lips were curved upward into a smile and the moonlight spilled over her, glinting off her green eyes and showcasing the flecks of gold Dominique had known were in there somewhere. She longed to wrap her fingers in those locks of thick, dark hair. But she steeled herself. She was still here for work, and Amy was still someone who was hurting from a significant loss.
This was wrong. She bit her tongue, hoping to feel pain instead of lust, and let out a sigh when the move failed to still the tightening of her stomach.
“Why do you like it out here so much?” Amy’s question danced in the breeze.
“I like the peaceful nature and change of pace. I also like the company.” Her voice came across low and husky, and she wished she could take the words back into her mouth.
“I do, too,” Amy said, the right corner of her lips turning up into a half grin. “I really do. I appreciate you spending so much time with me.”
“In true Texan fashion, this is where I say ‘it’s my pleasure, ma’am,’ but it really is.” She felt every bit as cheesy as that line. But she couldn’t help herself.
Amy winked again, and Dominique tensed. Everything in her body felt as though it was melting, yet tight as a knot, all at once. “Yeah?” Amy asked. “So I’m not as crazy as you must have thought I was that first night?”
“I never thought you were crazy. I thought you were shaken up, which you were. You’re not crazy at all. You’re a good person. An amazing person.”
Amy leaned in for a hug, and Dominique’s skin tingled from being so closely pressed up against Amy’s entire frame. When Amy pulled back slightly and gazed into her eyes, Dominique’s breathing quickened. Amy leaned forward and gingerly placed a soft kiss on Dominique’s cheek. She pulled back again, but she wasn’t smiling. Much like she knew her own had to be, Amy’s eyes were smoldering. Dominiq
ue could feel Amy’s heartbeat quicken with every passing second. Amy took one hand and placed it over Dominique’s heart, never breaking eye contact. Dominique wondered if Amy could feel the way her heart hammered in her chest, just the same as she could feel Amy’s. Amy bit her lip and breathed in deeply. Then just as quickly as it had all started, it was over. Amy jerked herself back a foot away, as if catching herself in a dangerous position.
“Do you want to roast marshmallows?” Amy asked, quick—too quick—to fill the silence. “I have a bag of them in my backpack. Roasting sticks too.”
“What a good wilderness explorer you are,” Dominique answered, laughing to keep the mood light, even though her body was still trembling. “I’d love a marshmallow.”
She gulped and tried to calm her frantic breathing. Wrong or not, the spark was there. She could feel the wetness that had formed between her legs at just a simple touch and knew she needed to back away from the dangers that lay ahead—dangers of hurting someone in such a vulnerable state, of making an even bigger mess than the one that currently existed in this sleepy little Texas town.
Still dazed, she took a seat on the log next to Amy and watched as Amy fumbled to open the bag of marshmallows, dropping it twice to the ground.
“Sorry,” Amy said, smiling sheepishly as she picked up and dusted off the bag a second time. “I think maybe I caught a bit of a chill and it’s making it so that I can’t even grip this damn bag.” She sat the bag in her lap and rubbed her hands on her jeans, even though they both knew it was an act meant to disguise the real reason Amy had freaked out.
“Need a hand?”
“Sure,” Amy said, her hand shaking as she held the bag out. Dominique reached for it, careful not to brush against Amy’s hand, knowing her body couldn’t take much more of a jolt without intensifying the craving that had been spiraling out of control within her.
Focusing on the task at hand, she deftly opened the bag and handed it back over to Amy.
“I loosened it up for you,” Amy laughed. “Just one of my many talents.”
“I think you have more of them than you’d imagine.”
Amy shrugged, then smiled. “Thanks,” she said after a second. She put her marshmallow on her stick and placed it over the fire. Dominique couldn’t help but stare. Amy’s small, slender hands were soft. Dominique knew as much. But she wanted to know so much more. She longed to explore Amy’s body, to give in to the tension that had been on a perpetual climb.
Amy glanced back at her, raising an eyebrow. “Am I doing it wrong?”
“No,” Dominique laughed. “My bad. I think I was a little dazed. It’s beautiful out here, and this night is great. I just got caught up in it.”
Amy nodded and Dominique glanced over behind the log, diverting her attention to anything other than Amy for a minute. She was usually better at social cues and had known she was staring. But she felt unable to do anything else. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her backpack.
Thankful for an excuse to get up, she walked over and grabbed it, smiling at the surprise waiting inside.
“I brought you a small gift,” she said, taking her seat again, but this time leaving as much space in between them as possible.
“For me?” Amy shook her head and glanced down. Lifting her eyes, she smiled. “Thank you. You don’t have to be as good to me as you are.”
Dominique shrugged and pulled the bottle from inside the bag. “It’s nothing huge. Just something I thought you might like.” She held the bottle in one hand, waving the other over it like she had seen countless game show hosts do when presenting a prize.
Amy beamed as she accepted the gift. “Pecan whiskey?” She cocked her head to the side and gave a pleased smile, her dimple showing her joy. “How did you know?”
“I saw your collection when I was at your house. This may not be as fancy as the bottles you’ve got in your whiskey locker at home, but it is unique.”
“Thank you,” Amy said. She moved like she was going to offer a hug but then straightened her shoulders and leaned back into her original position. “Really. Thank you.”
“Have you ever tried it?” Dominique took joy in the excited smile Amy was wearing, and wanted to keep it easy between them, to keep this joy intact.
“I haven’t, but I’m excited to.” Without warning, Amy leaned in for a side hug. “Thank you. You are amazing.”
“As are you. I hope you like it.”
“I can’t wait to…” Amy trailed off and glanced in both directions. “I was going to say ‘I can’t wait to try it,’ but I can’t see a reason I have to wait. Let’s get this sucker opened up.”
Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she opened the bottle. She held the bottle up to her nose and took in a deep breath. She moaned in delight and Dominique again bit her lip, wondering if Amy had any idea what she was doing to her. “It smells so good, you won’t even need to mix it.” Amelia leaned her head back and took a sip. “I was right,” she said, smiling as she wiped her lips with the back of her hand. “Try it.”
Dominique marveled at Amy’s ability to be overjoyed by the small things in life. Just one more attribute that made her so irresistible. Dominique accepted the whiskey and savored the taste. “It is good.”
Warmth flooded through her, partially from the whiskey, but mostly from Amy’s laughter.
Passing the bottle back and forth, sipping whiskey and watching the fire dance, conversation came easily.
“What was it like growing up here?” The question came out of left field in her mind, but Dominique scooped it up gratefully.
“Did you ever see Little House on the Prairie?”
Dominique raised an eyebrow and let out a small laugh. “Yeah?”
Amy shrugged. “It was that, but with color television and microwaves.” She glanced down at the bottle of whiskey in her hand, took a swig, and glanced up at the sky. “Kind of makes me nostalgic thinking about it, you know?” Her face held no glimmer of teasing, but her words were laced with sarcasm. “Ma and Pa, chopping wood for the fire, a simpler time in a simple little town.” Finally, her face broke into a smile and her laughter filled the air, ringing out crisp and clear and warming Dominique’s heart.
“Come on,” Dominique managed through her own laughter. “I don’t buy it.”
“Fine,” Amy said, still laughing. “It wasn’t quite that old timey. It was about like what you’re experiencing with me tonight. Peaceful. Gentle. Full of memorable moments. Quiet. Full of hard work too, don’t get me wrong. It was great, though. I left for a bit, thinking I’d find my home elsewhere. But this place draws you back in. Some think of it as a trap. I’ve always just thought of it as home. Home is the place you need to be—the place you want to be. I need to be here. I thrive here. This is my place and I wouldn’t trade it for the world.”
“Even now?”
“Especially now.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Horrible things happen everywhere. I once thought they didn’t happen here but they do. Clearly. It still doesn’t change the fact that this is my home. And if I can find a way to make it an even better place, that’s exactly what I’m going to do. I’m going to leave my home a brighter place.”
Dominique nodded. “Understandable and admirable.”
“I don’t need to be admired.” As she spoke, she turned to face Dominique. “Don’t get me wrong. I love being admired as much as the rest, but I don’t need it.”
Her smile grew. “Devilish” was the only word that came to mind as Dominique watched her eyebrows rise. Amy scooted closer on the bench. “Do you like to be admired as well?” Her tone had dropped, holding the huskiness of hunger.
Dominique gulped, trying to find the words. It felt as though her tongue had swollen up to twice its normal size. She swallowed hard and nodded.
“Good,” Amy said. “Because I admire many, many things about you.” Amy bit her lip, then shook her head. Standing, she walked back and forth in front of the log, her confidence from only
seconds earlier vanishing. “What I mean,” she said, laughing nervously, “is that I think you’re really great at your job, and you’ve been such an amazing help to me—and to others, I’m sure…” She trailed off and looked into the distance, downing another sip of whiskey before spinning on her heel and looking Dominique in the eye.
“Thank you,” Dominique said, saving her from her nervous rambling. “I appreciate your kind words. And I enjoy the time I spend with you as well.” The words felt forced, but she pushed them out anyway, both of them clearly masking the things they wanted to say.
She stood, closing the distance between them, and reached for the bottle of whiskey when Amy offered it. As their fingers brushed, Dominique’s breath caught in her throat. She moved to pull the bottle closer to her, but Amy didn’t relinquish her grip. When Dominique made eye contact, Amy looked confused and uncertain. Dominique smiled, hoping to ease the tension.
“I’m sorry.” Amy dropped her grip on the bottle, letting it fall into Dominique’s hand. “I…I don’t know where my head is tonight. Maybe I’m just distracted.” She let out a series of half-laugh, half-sigh sounds and threw her hands in the air. “Here I go again, being the crazy one.” She shrugged and looked off into the distance.
Dominique laughed and placed a reassuring hand on Amy’s shoulder. “You’re not crazy, and you don’t have to apologize.”
“I’m rambling. I don’t know why. I just am.” Her words tumbled out quickly, and she turned around again to face Dominique.
“It’s okay.” Dominique’s words were steady, even though her heart hadn’t stopped pounding like a marching band within her chest.
Amy bit her lip and moved closer. “I…” She sighed and shook her head.
