Going Down: Holding Out for a Hero, Book 1

by Shelli Stevens

  “Eli…” His brows drew together.

  “Namifia.”

  “That’s…a, ugh, great name.”

  “Thank you.”

  She tried not to let her lips quirk, because it was a bitch of a name and her cousin had threatened to have it legally changed more than once while growing up. They’d spent more than a few slumber parties mourning their parents’ penchants for nineteenth-century names.

  “Where are you from originally?” he asked.

  “Brooklyn.”

  “And how old are you?”

  “Does this matter really?”

  “Could you just answer the question, Elin—Ms. Owens.”

  Ellie ground her teeth together before answering. “Twenty-four. And why are you still holding my hand?”

  He grinned again. “Maybe because I like holding your hand.”

  “What?” Was he for real? She tried to tug free, but his grip tightened and his smile faded as he stared down at where their hands were joined.

  “Did you cut yourself?”

  “I don’t think so.” But she looked down and sure enough her palm was scraped and red with almost dry blood. “Oh…I didn’t even feel it.”

  “We should go clean that up. Come on Elin—dammit, do you have a nickname or something?”

  First he flirted and now he was swearing? Jeez, the cops in this town were a little…different.

  “A nickname?” she hesitated, and thought about it for a second before saying, “My family calls me Ellie.”

  Which was actually a perfect compromise. It was the nickname she went by instead of Eleanor, and it could work well with her cousin’s name.

  “All right, Ellie. Let’s get you back to the house and clean that up.”

  She followed him back through the trees with a scowl, trying not to notice whether his butt looked good beneath the uniform. Unfortunately, she did notice, and it indeed looked pretty nice.

  “So, Ellie,” he began conversationally as he held the door to her house open. “If I go run your name right now, what am I going to find?”

  Her stomach rolled and she tried to keep her expression neutral as she stepped past him.

  “A twenty-four-year-old chick from Brooklyn with no record.”

  Ellie bit her lip. At least, you’d better still be keeping your nose clean, Mimi.

  “Great. If you wouldn’t mind spelling out your name for me?”

  She turned and found him behind her with a pen and small notebook in hand.

  “Of course.” Forcing a smile, she rattled off the spelling then turned away again.

  Eleanor made a beeline for the bathroom, grabbing a small towel and running it under the water. Before she could tend to the scratch, the sheriff was right behind her. He took the towel from her hand.

  “Let me,” he said softly and caught her wrist, lifting her palm upward so he could dab it with the cloth.

  Her pulse fluttered again as she watched him gently cleanse the small wound, his face crinkled with concentration.

  She was way too attracted to him, Ellie realized with unease. Oh, this guy was trouble and in a big way. For the briefest second, she thought about packing up and fleeing town the moment he left—if he left and was convinced that she was some criminal.

  But packing up and leaving just wasn’t an option, or would have to be a worst-case scenario one. She’d already paid rent for two months on this place. Cash. And she didn’t have bottomless funds.

  “How’s that feel?”

  She blinked out of her thoughts to discover he was watching her closely again instead of her wound.

  “It’s fine,” she managed to reply huskily. “Thank you.”

  He stepped closer, leaning forward to drop the washcloth in the sink, but not moving away after. Their chests almost touched and his face was just inches from hers.

  Ellie’s body stirred with awareness at his proximity, her nipples tightening beneath her tank top. She licked her lips, acutely aware of the thin cotton covering her bare breasts.

  “How long do you plan on being in town?” he asked softly, his gaze on her mouth.

  Her heart thumped wildly and she had the craziest urge to lean forward and press her mouth against his.

  “Probably just a couple of months. Getting out of the city for the summer…”

  “Well then, Ellie,” he murmured. “I have a feeling we’ll be seeing each other again real soon. So you’d better get over that distrust of law enforcement bit.”

  Her knees almost buckled when he stepped away without touching her. Disappointment swept through her. You’re an idiot. Being disappointed that a cop you don’t know didn’t kiss you?

  “I’ll, um, work on it.” She cleared her throat. “Was there a reason you dropped by in the first place?”

  “Just wanted to welcome you to Wyattville and introduce myself.” He laughed and shook his head. “Damn, guess I forgot to do both of those, now didn’t I? The name’s Tyson Wyatt and welcome to town.”

  She followed him as he headed toward the front door. “So that Wyatt part. Umm, you’re not like named after the town or something, are you?”

  “Descended from the original founders,” he called out as he stepped onto the porch. When he reached his squad car, he turned and glanced back up at her. “And there’s a good handful of us Wyatts, Ellie. Just to warn you.”

  With a wink, he climbed into his car and backed away.

  Ellie stood on the porch for a moment, wondering what the hell had just happened and what kind of crazy-ass town this was anyway.

  Tyson steered his patrol car back onto Main Street, his brows once again drawn together in consternation.

  Well, one thing was blatantly clear. Elina-however-the-hell-you-said-it was one desirable woman. But she was also hiding something, and he sure planned on getting to the bottom of just what that something was. Already he had a call in to Julianne at dispatch to do a check on her.

  He hit the brakes as a familiar teenager darted into the empty road and came running up to the driver’s window of his vehicle.

  He lowered the window and called, “How you doing, Amie?”

  “I got into Stanford, Sheriff Wyatt! I’m not sure if you heard already, but I’m totally excited.”

  “That’s great, Amie.” He patted her hand, genuinely happy for the shy and smart girl he’d watched grow up over the years. “I knew you’d get in. Congratulations.”

  Amie’s smile widened. “Thanks! And, hey, your brothers are stirring up trouble down at Kate’s Cakes, you should totally go check on them.”

  “I’ll drop by.” He reached for the wheel again and winked. “Congrats again on Stanford, Amie. Say hi to your folks.”

  “Will do.”

  A minute later, he parked the patrol car next to Kate’s shop, smiling fondly. God he loved this town. Sure, some of the folks had the urge to leave at some point, like Amie. Whether it was for school, to seek out a more exciting life, or whatever oats needed sowing, but most of them eventually came back. He was the perfect example.

  After climbing out of the patrol car, Tyson headed to the shop and then ducked slightly to get his tall frame under the pink overhang that was supposed to resemble the frosting on a cupcake. He entered just in time to hear his brother begging for food.

  “Come on, Kate, just one chocolate cupcake,” Todd pleaded with his most charming grin. “Besides, have you supported your local firefighter today?”

  Tyson rolled his eyes and approached the counter, wondering how many times his brother had used that line to get free food from Kate. Although, it probably didn’t help that Kate had been nursing a crush on the youngest Wyatt brother for years now.

  And Kate’s scowl wasn’t convincing, because her cheeks were flushed as she muttered, “I support my local firefighter every day of the week! If I give you cupcakes all the time, Todd, I swear to God, I’ll be working for free.” Still, a moment later, she reached for one of the frosted treats.

  “I’ll support the
firefighters today,” Tyson intervened with a grimace. “Just put it on my tab, Kate.”

  “Ty, when did you get here?” Todd turned away from the counter, cupcake in hand and flirting with Kate forgotten.

  “Just dropping in for a few,” Tyson murmured, feeling a twinge of sympathy for Kate when disappointment flashed in her gaze. But then she lowered her head and busied herself with something behind the counter.

  “Coming in for breakfast?” Trevor, the oldest Wyatt brother, called out from where he sat by the window, reading the paper. He’d driven down for the weekend from Fort Lewis in Washington State, where he was currently stationed in the Army.

  “I would, but some of us work for a living.” Tyson grinned and scratched the back of his neck. “Got a question for you guys, though. Anyone know anything about the new gal renting the Bakemans’ place?”

  Trevor shrugged, but didn’t lift his gaze from the paper. “Heard she’s hot.”

  “Wait, what’s this about a new hot chick in town?” Todd asked, pulling out a chair at the table.

  Annoyance had Tyson’s smile tightening. Usually the fact that Todd flirted with anyone with breasts amused him, but thinking about his younger brother dropping by Ellie’s place wasn’t quite as funny this time.

  “Don’t know much about her. But I’m planning on remedying that,” Tyson admitted.

  Trevor lowered his coffee mug as his brows rose. “Interesting. I do believe our brother just staked claim on the new chick.”

  “Suck it, Trevor. I’m just saying—”

  “That you think she’s hot and we should back the hell off. We got it, bro,” Todd inserted before taking a huge bite of his cupcake.

  Tyson stared at them in disbelief, heat stealing up his neck. Staking his claim on Ellie? Hell, he didn’t even know her. All he knew was she was a stranger in town who ran from law enforcement. Which was not a good sign.

  “Shit, you guys are impossible,” he grumbled. “Let me know if you hear anything about her.”

  Then he turned to leave the shop and head back to his patrol car to see what dispatch had discovered.

  Chapter Three

  Ellie sat at the small table in the kitchen while waiting for her steaks to broil. She offered another mutinous glare at the computer in the corner and kicked her foot against a chair leg.

  “You can’t tempt me,” she muttered. “You’re probably dial-up Internet anyway.”

  But dammit, the computer did tempt her. She was addicted to her email—could barely go a few hours without refreshing it. And it had now been how many days since she’d last checked her inbox?

  It was just too risky, though. She’d watched enough thriller films to be slightly paranoid about that kind of thing. The police knew she was missing now and might be checking her email and cell phone activity. Which was why she’d left her Blackberry in her apartment too—she simply couldn’t trust herself not to give into the temptation to use it.

  Oh, God, her Blackberry… Her fingers flexed, itching with the familiar urge to send a text. A groan of self-pity built in her throat as she stood up to check on the steaks.

  “Oh, sweet, sweet, Blackberry, someday we’ll be reunited,” she muttered and then nodded at the steaks.

  Medium rare. Perfect. One for dinner, and she’d keep the other for lunch tomorrow, saving her from having to cook again. Although, cooking had somewhat become her source of entertainment.

  She grabbed a potholder and pulled the steaks from the oven. As she began to set them down a sharp rap came at the door.

  Jumping with a curse, she dropped the pan fully onto the stove and placed a hand over her pounding heart.

  Really? Again?

  She moved toward the window, experiencing a sense of déjà vu, which only doubled when she spotted the sheriff’s car outside.

  “Oh you’ve got to be kidding me.” She shoved a strand of hair from her eyes, ignoring the way her pulse quickened.

  And she knew it wasn’t just from the possibility that he’d discovered she wasn’t who she claimed to be.

  She considered putting on a sweater, since she was still in the thin tank top and pants she’d worn to do yoga in. But then another knock came and she muttered under her breath, moving to answer it.

  “Sheriff Wyatt.” She forced a pleasant expression as she swung the door open. “Something I can help you with?”

  Tyson leaned against the doorjamb, a disarming smile on his face and a bottle of wine in his hand.

  “Thought I’d drop by and see if you wanted to have dinner.”

  Ellie blinked, opening her mouth to reply, but then closed it again. Was the sheriff hitting on her?

  “Oh, well, I just cooked some steaks…” she protested lamely.

  “Great. Steaks. Plural. As in enough for two?” His smile widened as he straightened and stepped through the doorway. “Now there’s an offer I can’t refuse.”

  It hadn’t been an offer, dammit! She bit back the words and gave an uneasy laugh. “Umm—”

  “I promise to return the favor, Ellie,” he murmured with a wink, shutting the door and taking a step toward her. “Tomorrow you can come to my place and I’ll cook. I make a mean lasagna.”

  Oh, yeah, he was definitely hitting on her.

  Ellie unconsciously backed away from him, completely thrown off balance by his directness. Her butt bumped against the floor-to-ceiling bookshelf and she came to an abrupt halt.

  Tyson took another step forward, until his hips brushed hers, pressing her back against the wooden shelf. The smell of soap and woodsy cologne immediately tickled her senses. He’d changed out of his uniform and through his jeans she could feel the thickness of his cock and the heat of his hard body.

  Her mind screamed at how absolutely bizarre this was. She didn’t trust him—didn’t trust any law enforcement officer right now. And yet, having the sheriff’s muscled body pressed up against hers sent awareness sizzling through her. Tightening her nipples and creating a throbbing ache between her thighs.

  What was it about him that made her want to do all kinds of raunchy, naughty things that would probably have gotten her kicked out of Catholic school eight years ago?

  “You know, Ellie, we’re neighbors.”

  “Are we?” And why did her voice squeak?

  “Yeah. I’m just a couple minutes up the road.” His gaze met hers, the pupils in his clear blue eyes dilated. “So if you need to borrow a cup of sugar, or…something, all you need to do is ask.”

  Ellie swallowed hard and gave a quick nod. “I-I’ll remember that.”

  “You do that.” He set down the bottle of wine on the shelf, his face drawing even nearer to hers. “You know what else?”

  Mutely, she shook her head, not even about to guess what he was going to say next. Her mouth watered and it had nothing to do with the steaks in the kitchen.

  It had been months since she’d had sex, and right now she was on the verge of grabbing the back of his head and kissing the hell out of the slightly loony—or maybe just drunk—sheriff.

  He lowered his head, until his mouth was just a breath’s away from hers. “I had your name run.”

  And just like that, her arousal vanished. Drying up as fear closed off her throat. She couldn’t reply, even if she’d wanted to. Just lifted one brow and made a small gurgle of sound as she exhaled.

  “You were right. Twenty-four-year old from Brooklyn,” he murmured, tracing her jaw with the backs of two fingers. “But you weren’t entirely truthful, were you, sweetheart?”

  Her knees buckled, threatening to give out. Oh no. He’d figured it out.

  Caught by his hypnotic blue gaze, she found her head moving back and forth.

  “I didn’t think so,” he said, as his thumb made a slow glide over her bottom lip. “But I can see why didn’t want to tell me.”

  “You don’t understand.” The words erupted from her in a husky plea.

  “Oh, no, I do, Ellie.” He gave a soft laugh. “An indecent exposure charge
is probably something you don’t want to brag about.”

  Ellie blinked, her heart thundering in her chest.

  “Indecent exposure,” she repeated, relief slamming through her. He hadn’t figured it out. “Right.”

  “I mean, I suppose I can understand. It was Mardi Gras and you probably didn’t realize that bus was full of senior citizens when you flashed them.”

  Holy crap, what had her cousin been smoking?

  “Yeah…something like that,” she muttered.

  “You’re a fascinating gal, Ellie.” He pulled away and grinned, grabbing the bottle of wine again and heading toward the kitchen. “Do you need some help with dinner?”

  Ellie wanted nothing more than to slide down to the floor and bury her head in her hands. Instead she settled on silent scream and face scrunching, since his back was facing her.

  “No, it’s pretty much ready,” she finally answered, her voice surprisingly steady as she moved after him.

  When she entered the kitchen, Tyson was already grabbing two plates from the cupboard.

  She pulled a drawer open to retrieve silverware. Casting him a sideways look, she couldn’t resist muttering, “You’re a very…forward guy. Do you realize that?”

  “I do.” He cast her a wry look over his shoulder. “My whole family seems to have the habit. Sorry if it offends.”

  Shrugging, she set the table. “I didn’t say it offended. It’s just different. I don’t think I even know my neighbors’ names in Chicago. I mean, having the sheriff of town just dropping by for dinner—”

  “You mean Brooklyn?”

  Ellie froze in the midst of laying down the forks next to the plate.

  Fuck.

  “Right,” she said slowly. “Brooklyn. Sorry. I grew up in Chicago and sometimes I just mix them up in conversation.”

  “Understandable.”

  His reply was said lightly, so she hoped he hadn’t been too concerned with her mistake. Still, her pulse quickened. She’d let her guard down for one moment, got a little too comfortable, and then slipped.

  Forcing a smile, she gestured toward the wine. “Is that a white or red?”