by Sandra Owens
Chad’s face turned red. “A fucking restraining order, Jenn?”
10
~ Dylan ~
I fisted my hand, holding on to my temper by a thread. What I wanted to do was knock the asshole into next week, but unless she asked me to step in, this was Jenny’s battle.
“You’re such a jerk, Chad.” She stomped off to her car. “Coming, Dylan?”
I glanced over at her. “You bet.” But first I had something to say to Mr. Perrine. “You come around her one more time, you’re going to find yourself a guest in my jail. It comes to that, you’re going to be real impressed by all the things I’ll be able to think of to charge you with. Capisce?”
His eyes glittered with hatred, and I wondered if he was going to turn into one of those stalkers that can’t stand not having the woman he’s fixated on. He walked away without answering, and I hoped he believed I wouldn’t hesitate to make his life miserable if he didn’t leave Jenny alone. The idiot spun his tires, throwing up gravel, as he left the parking lot, and I shook my head. “How old are you anyway, dumbass?”
I walked over to Jenny. “You okay?”
“No, I’m furious.” She glanced up at the sky. “If I go home now, all I’ll do is stomp around my apartment half the night, calling Chad every bad name I can think of.” She paused again, looking out on the road thoughtfully. “There’s someplace I go when I need to think. Would you come with me?”
“I’m all yours.” It was definitely an honor to be invited to her special place. I followed her to her car, sliding onto the passenger seat. She rolled down her window, so I did the same. The night wind felt good. Although I was curious where she was taking me, I didn’t ask. She had the radio on an oldies station—something on satellite since apparently it was impossible to pick up the Asheville stations where we were. As we drove away from town, the radio blaring and the mountain air blowing in, it almost felt like I was back in high school and on a date. Except the girl was driving. Surprisingly, I liked it.
“Where’s a good place to get doughnuts around here?” I asked.
She glanced over at me, then burst into laughter.
“What?” I gave her innocent, wide eyes, but I was pretty sure I could guess the reason for her amusement.
“Cops and doughnuts.”
Yep, I’d called it. I couldn’t stop a grin. “Hey, it’s a thing.” It had been a long time since I’d been this relaxed and happy. It felt good.
“Mary’s Bread Company has doughnuts every morning except Sundays until eleven. They’re amazing.”
“I’ve seen the place.” It was a nondescript building about the size of my living room, easy to miss if you weren’t looking.
“Mary makes great coffee, too. What’s your favorite doughnut flavor?”
“There’s only one kind of doughnut worth eating. Glazed.” Sprinkles and icing were just wrong.
“Then be there any time between seven and eight if you like them hot.”
“Seriously? She has hot glazed?” At Jenny’s nod, I moaned. “I might have to marry Mary.” That set off another round of laughter. “Now what?”
She shook her head. “You’ll see.”
I was intrigued, and the first chance I got, I’d be showing up for my hot doughnuts and a look at Mary. We turned onto a dirt road that curved its way up. Not used to mountain roads, I gripped the window ledge. I also considered praying we didn’t go over the side, but I was going to trust that Jenny knew what she was doing.
“Thank you for not going all macho and knocking out a few of Chad’s teeth, by the way.”
“I figured you’d ask if you wanted me to butt in.” But I’d sure as hell wanted to.
“Definitely. After tonight I don’t think he’ll bother me again, but I’ll get a restraining order just to be safe.”
Finally. “That would be wise.”
“Here we are.” Jenny slowed the car and cut the engine.
The headlights were still on, illuminating the flat surface where we were parked. Off to the left were waist-high boulders, and to the right, the land disappeared.
Jenny opened her door. “Come on. You’re going to love this.”
I wasn’t so sure about that, but I followed her to the back of her car. She opened her trunk, grabbing a blanket and flashlight. Being a city boy, communing with nature wasn’t high on my bucket list.
“Are we going hiking in the middle of the night? Like through the woods? Aren’t there bears?” I had my gun on me, but maybe I should have studied up on bears. “How many bullets will I need to take down a pissed-off bear?”
She laughed. “You’re hilarious.”
“Wasn’t trying to be funny, Red.” I trailed behind her to a boulder near the edge. “What are you doing now?” I asked when she turned on the flashlight, illuminating the rock.
“Making sure there aren’t any snakes.”
Oh, hell no. I backed up a few steps. Give me a shoot-out with a bad guy any day, but snakes? Nope. Not happening. “Tell me again why we’re here.”
“You’ll see.”
She spread the blanket over a rock that might or might not have snakes hiding in it just waiting for a couple of dumbasses they could bite. She patted the space next to her. I took a moment to debate the merits of being a wuss versus manning up and climbing onto a possibly snake-infested boulder. It was probably a lot easier to shoot a bear than a snake, and I made a mental note to find a shooting range that had small, slithering targets I could practice on. But I was a lawman, and it was my duty to protect citizens and pretty girls, so I pushed myself onto the rock.
“Shouldn’t we leave that on?” I said when Jenny turned off the flashlight.
“No, we can’t see the stars when it’s on.”
But we could see the damn snakes. “Is that what we’re doing, stargazing?” I didn’t think I’d ever done that before, not that I could remember. The lights were never off in Chicago, so we never bothered looking up at night.
She lowered onto her back. “Come look.”
On my back beside her, I lifted my eyes to the night sky. “Wow,” I whispered.
“Amazing, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.” We fell silent, both of us entranced by the glittering diamonds on black velvet. It helped that the moon was a mere sliver in the sky, allowing the stars center stage. I slipped my hand over Jenny’s, and she laced her fingers around mine.
“Someday I’ll stand under the stars in Greece or Ireland or China.”
I lifted onto my elbow and peered down at her. “You’re serious about this world travel thing?”
“Definitely.”
It was too dark to see her well, but I could see the gleam of her teeth as she smiled, and the outline of her hair spread out over the blanket, and I could smell her scent. Something earthy, like a combination of cinnamon and vanilla beans and rain. Made my mouth water. She lifted her hand and pressed her palm against my cheek. I took that as permission and lowered my mouth to hers.
Her lips were soft and warm, and when she parted them, I slid my tongue over hers. My body hummed with longing for this woman. I put my hand on her hip, pulling her closer. Her breath hitched, and she grabbed the front of my shirt, fisting her fingers in the material.
Oh yeah. I sucked her bottom lip into my mouth, then let go, chuckling when she made a little growling noise. She paid me back by clamping her teeth lightly down on my lip, giving a little tug.
I gathered a lock of her hair, wrapping it around my hand and tugging her head back. “Still think my kiss is just nice?”
She grinned. “Jury’s still out.”
We’d see about that. “You better take a deep breath, Red, because you’re not coming up for air until I get my fill of you.”
“Is that so?”
“I don’t say things I don’t mean.” And I proved it to her. We made out like teenagers for a good thirty minutes, and by the time I pulled away, breathless, I was so hard I could hammer a nail with my dick. The last thing I wanted to
do was stop, but if I didn’t, I wouldn’t be able to.
Although she’d been just as into our kissing as me, her hands had never strayed below my chest, which told me she wasn’t ready. She’d asked me not to push her, and never mind that I’d never be able to walk straight again, I would honor her request.
Even though I wasn’t going to get what I wanted tonight, I still considered it a victory. There had been times when I’d doubted that I’d ever want another woman. That was how bad my wife had fucked up my head. It was a relief to know my manly parts were still alive and operative.
“Does the jury have a verdict yet?”
Jenny sat up, then leaned down and brushed her lips over mine. “The defendant wins the case. He’s a damn great kisser.”
I kept my hands at my sides when she circled my mouth with the tip of her tongue, otherwise I’d start stripping off her clothes. My control was hanging on by a thread—a very fragile one. She slid off the rock and walked to the edge, and I followed her. And yes, it was impossible to walk normally.
“That’s our little town down there,” she said.
Below us was a scattering of lights on the valley floor. “If that was Chicago, the entire valley would be lit up like it was daylight.”
“Do you miss Chicago?”
I put my arm around her shoulders and tucked her into my side. “Some things, but I’m glad I’m here.” Especially since meeting a red-haired bartender who longed to travel the world. I was going to miss her when she left.
11
~ Jenny ~
Sunday morning I changed clothes three times before deciding on a white, spaghetti-strap sundress with cherries on it. My Vincennes’ everyday uniform was a black T-shirt and black pants, so having enough black in my life, whenever I dressed for anything other than work, I went with colors. A pair of comfortable red, flat-heeled sandals, and my hair up in a ponytail to keep it off my neck, and I was almost ready for Blue Ridge Valley’s annual car and motorcycle show.
The forecast was for unusually warm temperatures for this time of the year, getting up into the midseventies and sunny. That called for some suntan lotion on my bare shoulders and arms, and I was trying to reach the middle of my exposed shoulders when the doorbell rang.
“It’s open. Come on in,” I said after looking in the peephole to make sure it was Dylan. When he entered, I held up my lotion-slicked hands. “Sorry. I couldn’t turn the knob. Give me a minute to get the rest of this lotion on, then we can go.”
“Let me.”
He took the tube from my hand when I tried to reach my back. Goose bumps rose when he rubbed the cool lotion over my skin. It had been three days since I’d seen him—since we’d made out like teenagers—and I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about kissing him again.
“You look very pretty today, Red.”
He put his mouth on my neck, just behind my ear, and my “Thank you,” came out all breathy.
“You smell good, too,” he said, taking a deep breath. He stepped around me, fingering a strand of hair I’d left down.
“So do you.” And God did he ever. I didn’t think he wore cologne. It was more like bay rum–scented soap and maybe a spicy aftershave. Whatever it was, it was mouthwatering sexy. The whole package was sexy, actually. He wore jeans, topsiders, and a sky-blue polo shirt that he filled out very nicely. And that lopsided smile could melt a girl’s heart.
“I’m ready.”
He brushed his thumb across my bottom lip. “First I have to do this.”
Our eyes locked as he lowered his mouth, and when our lips touched, I put my hands on his upper arms. His muscles flexed under my fingers, and I longed to run my hands all over his body, exploring all the places he had muscles. Butterflies fluttered their wings in my stomach, making me feel twitchy all over.
He lifted his head, then tapped my nose. “Now we can go.”
“If my knees can still hold me up.” Because they’d gone weak with that kiss. If he could do that to me with only a kiss, I was pretty sure we were going to be dynamite together in bed when things progressed that far. But I wasn’t ready for that yet. I wanted to get to know him better, and I was enjoying the anticipation of it happening. The building sexual tension between us was exciting, and I wanted to draw it out a little longer.
He smiled as if I’d pleased him. “Not sure my knees are working much better than yours, but I’ll hold you up if you’ll return the favor.”
I grabbed the red straw hat I’d put on the coffee table. We held hands, leaning against each other in pure silliness, laughing that we made it to his car without falling on our faces. It only took ten minutes to get from my apartment to the fairgrounds, and Dylan spent the time quizzing me on Blue Ridge Valley.
“So let me get this straight,” he said as he pulled into a parking space. “Betty Kirkland owns the Mountain Crafts store and she hates Virginia Stanley, the owner of All Good Things because Virginia was voted homecoming queen forty-six years ago, but Betty thinks Virginia bought the votes with laced brownies? And the feud is still going on?”
“That about sums it up.”
He leaned his head back against the seat, closed his eyes, and gave a full-bellied laugh. When he opened his eyes, he looked at me and grinned. “I’m going to love this town.”
“Wait until I tell you about Hamburger Harry, famous for his moonshine. No one has ever seen him eat anything but hamburgers, and that’s saying a lot because he’s eighty-three. He’ll probably be here today.”
“Please don’t tell me I’m going to have to arrest an old man named Hamburger Harry.”
“Don’t feel bad. It won’t be the first time he’s been arrested. Judge Padgett said to him once, ‘Hamburger, if you’ll promise me you won’t ever make moonshine again, I won’t send you to jail,’ and Hamburger said, ‘Well, George, I cain’t rightly tell you that ’cause I’m a honest man and that would be fibbin’ and my mama teached me better’n that.’ True story.”
I loved listening to Dylan laugh. It was contagious, and we both sat in his car with tears streaming down our faces. When I’d told Chad about Hamburger Harry, he’d said it was the stupidest thing he’d ever heard, that they should just put him in a cell and throw away the key. First off, Hamburger wouldn’t hurt a fly, and second of all, his apple pie moonshine was to die for. I loved that Dylan thought the story was hilarious.
Two hours later I liked him even more. He’d let me take the lead, saying, “This is your town, Red, so I’m yours for the day. Introduce me to people, and then whisper their story in my ear.” I could do that.
The first people we came to were Adam and Connor Hunter. The twins were sprawled in lawn chairs behind their classic Harleys. “Adam, Connor, this is our new police chief, Dylan Conrad. Dylan, if you ever want a to-die-for log cabin built, the Hunter twins are your men.”
Adam and Connor were the hottest bachelors for a hundred miles. Every woman in striking distance had tried to catch one of them, including Natalie and me when we were fifteen. We’d thought it would be really cool for twins to marry twins, had even planned our double wedding to them. Savannah had managed to catch Adam, then had broken his heart when she’d left him to go find fame and fortune in New York.
Dylan launched into a manly discussion with the twins, one that involved the cost of lumber and land prices and the best kind of roof to put on a cabin. I pretty much zoned out of the conversation, happy to do nothing more than observe Dylan. He was amazing the way he fit in. I fished my camera out of my purse and shot some pictures of him and the twins.
After leaving Adam and Connor, we checked out the cars. We oohed and awed, both of us agreeing that the 1966, perfectly restored, white-with-red-upholstery Mustang convertible should win the Classic Car Class. I wasn’t at all surprised to learn that the Hunter brothers owned that one. Last year their entry had been a ’69 Dodge Charger that I would have almost given up my world tour to own. I said almost. I loved cars, but I wasn’t that far gone.
“Let�
��s have pulled pork barbeque sandwiches.” At Dylan’s raised brow, I said, “When in North Carolina…” Someone needed to teach the man about good southern food. Who better than me?
We got our paper bowls filled with the sandwiches and fat, soft fries, taking them to one of the picnic tables. I rolled my eyes when he scraped the cabbage off his bun. “At least try it that way,” I said.
He eyed the cabbage, shifted his gaze to me, opened his mouth, and then shut it. The cabbage went back on his bun.
Have I said how much I liked this man? “It’s not going to kill you.”
“Not so sure about that, Red. Anything else I should do before I eat it?”
“Just this.” I picked up the red sauce and slathered it over his pork, then added a dash of hot. “Now have at it.” I tossed a handful of paper napkins his way. “Oh, and you’ll need these.”
I scored it a victory when he deemed the pulled pork with cabbage on the top good. We’d just gotten a funnel cake—my festival weakness—to top off our lunch when there was a commotion near the stage where a band was setting up. Of course Dylan’s attention zeroed in on the crowd gathering around what appeared to be a fight. I couldn’t see over the heads, but I could hear the yelling. Dylan headed that way, and holding on to my funnel cake, I followed him. Two cops, Sarah Griffin and Tommy Evans, were already pushing through the crowd when we got there.
“Stay here,” Dylan said, then elbowed his way past the people egging on the combatants.
I didn’t try to follow him because that would mean I’d probably get my funnel cake dumped on the ground. That wouldn’t have made me happy. Dylan let his officers do their job while he forced the crowd back by putting his arms out and backing up. When one man tried to push back, Dylan said something and the guy shut his mouth as he stepped away.
