An Officer and a Maverick

by Teresa Southwick

  Russ carried her through the office and stopped in front of the empty cell they’d occupied the last time she was here. He used one hand to slide the barred door open then walked inside as it shut and automatically locked with the two of them inside.

  He set her on the bunk. “Now you’re a captive audience.”

  Lani blinked up at him, and suddenly all the sass and spirit were gone. She looked uncertain and vulnerable. “I don’t understand. Why would you do this? It will be all over town soon, if it’s not already. People will think we’re... That you and I are...”

  She was his life, that’s what she was. She’d been there for her brother, for her family. There was no doubt in his mind that she would do the same for anyone she loved, and he hoped with everything he had that she cared about him.

  “I love you, Lani.”

  “Since when?” She sat up straight, folded her arms over her chest and refused to look at him.

  “Since the first time I saw you.”

  Her gaze jerked to his. “What?”

  “I walked into the Ace in the Hole after working a shift for Gage. You were carrying a heavy tray full of beers, and I wondered how you didn’t drop it. Surely the power of the lightning that hit me would knock you off balance.”

  “But you barely said a word to me.” Her eyes were wide and so beautiful a man could drown in them and go down smiling.

  “I couldn’t. I knew if I did, resistance would be futile.” He shrugged. “And I was right.”

  He looked around the cell, remembering the night he’d arrested her, in that wet yellow sundress that was practically transparent. It hadn’t taken long for her to break him down, annihilate his defenses. He’d kissed her and was lost. The rest was history.

  He sighed. “Even after the night you deliberately locked me in here and I fought against trusting you, I tried to ignore what I felt. My history had been nothing but a horrible warning.”

  “You and me both,” she said.

  “My instincts were telling me that you were exactly what you seemed—beautiful, loyal, someone who put her family first. Everything I ever wanted. But I couldn’t trust that. My judgment was so far off I didn’t have any faith in what my gut was telling me.”

  “What changed your mind?” There was the tiniest bit of skepticism in her voice.

  “Two things.” He blew out a breath. “When I faced the reality of leaving town and not seeing you every day, it felt wrong, empty. I’ve gotten used to seeing that pretty face, and leaving you was the last thing I wanted to do.”

  “What was the other thing?”

  “Anderson told me about his legal battle and said that’s why you deliberately got my attention the night he hit Skip Webster. That he couldn’t afford to be arrested. And how he made you promise not to tell anyone.”

  “I can’t believe he did that.”

  “Just so you know, he swore me to secrecy, too. And I plan to honor that promise just like you have. You set a high bar, Miss Dalton.”

  A small smile curved up the corners of her mouth. “So at the bar, Anderson was playing matchmaker.”

  “Yeah. And he’s not the only one.” At her questioning gaze he said, “Gage was at the sheriff’s office when Anderson came in. After your brother left, he suggested I go to the Ace in the Hole and talk to you.”

  She smiled mysteriously.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “I’m just trying to picture the two of them dressed as Cupid—tights, wings, the whole nine yards. Oh, wait. Cupid wears a diaper. Either way, not pretty,” she said.

  “Yeah.” He dragged his fingers through his hair. “So, in front of everyone tonight, you defended my honor and said you love me.”

  “Yup, everyone heard,” she agreed.

  “Then there’s only one thing left to do to close this case.” He moved in front of her and went down on one knee. “Marry me.”

  “Yes!” She grinned then threw herself into his arms and said, “I give myself up.”

  Epilogue

  Lani snuggled up to Russ in the big king-size bed at his house in Boulder Junction. After the night he’d proposed in the jail cell, she’d all but moved in with him. He was back to work as a detective for Kalispell PD, working a shift for Gage now and then when he had time, to keep up the investigation into the wedding punch situation.

  Every night after work they ended up in the bedroom, and sometimes they even watched TV. It turned out both of them liked crime dramas and trying to figure out whodunit. She took great pride in the fact that she guessed right as often as he did.

  She fluffed the big pillows behind her then moved back in beside his big, warm body. He pulled her closer, and she rested her cheek on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. He didn’t know it yet but she had big plans to get that Kalispell PD T-shirt off him. Not that she didn’t love the way it hugged all his delicious muscles, but she’d rather see and touch his bare skin.

  Right now she was going to be smug and superior and rub in the fact that in the show they’d just finished watching, he had deduced wrong. “I told you it was the angry coworker.”

  He made a scoffing sound. “That was way too obvious. I was sure it was the nauseatingly sweet employer of the undocumented workers.”

  “You underestimate my investigative skills and powers of observation.”

  When he laughed, the sound vibrated through her. “I have never underestimated any of your powers, brainy Lani. Especially the power you have over me. You are one smart lady.”

  “Not smart enough to figure out who spiked that punch at the wedding.”

  “Yeah. It really bugs me that we couldn’t solve the case.” He shook his head. “All the shenanigans that went on that night, and no one saw anything.”

  Lani tapped her lip. “That’s not entirely true, Russ. Whoever writes the gossip in Rust Creek Ramblings for the paper saw quite a bit. There were stories for weeks.”

  “Never could get an ID on the writer, either,” he grumbled. “But I have an idea.”

  “Is it necessary to remind you that you’re not on the case anymore?”

  “Not full-time. But Gage asks me to follow up every once in a while. Besides, I can’t stop thinking about it.” He shrugged. “Occupational hazard.”

  “So what’s your idea?” she asked.

  “I think I’ll send a note to the paper addressed to this anonymous columnist and ask whoever it is to come up with his or her own theory about the mystery. I think that will be irresistible to this person and could stir the waters. Maybe flush out the perp.”

  “It’s worth a shot.” She leaned back a little and looked up at him. “You know that at some point you might have to put this in the unsolved file?”

  “Yeah, but I hope not.” There was an amazingly tender expression in his eyes when he looked at her. “And it’s not about justice.”

  “Really?”

  “Do you remember when we talked to Jordyn Leigh Clifton? When she said that she and Will are grateful for what happened. If they hadn’t unknowingly gotten drunk that night and married, happiness might have passed them by.”

  “Yeah,” she said. “Now I know what she meant. If that punch hadn’t been spiked, my brothers wouldn’t have mixed it up, and I wouldn’t have danced in the fountain to save Anderson.”

  “And I wouldn’t have arrested you.”

  She grinned happily. “Getting arrested wasn’t nearly as bad as I thought. Both times it was kind of amazing, each in its own way.”

  “Yeah. As weird as it sounds, I’d really like to thank whoever messed with the punch at that wedding.”

  “I know what you mean.” That day would always have a special place in her heart. “But I have to say when we get married, I’m a no vote on having an open punch bowl. I don’
t want my groom to be in detective mode on our big day.”

  “Where’s your sense of adventure?” he teased.

  “Alive and well.” She caught the corner of her bottom lip between her teeth then decided to share something she’d been thinking about. “I really liked working the mystery with you. We make a good team.

  “No argument there.” He ran his finger along the side of her neck, over her chest, and stopped at the swell of her breast. “What’s going on in that creative mind of yours?”

  “This might sound a little crazy, but...” Just spit it out. “We could open a detective agency, be like those husband-and-wife private investigators on TV.”

  “Hmm.” His mouth was on her neck, and the single syllable vibrated through her.

  “I have another idea.” She reached for the bottom of his shirt. “Let’s get this off.”

  “I’m a yes vote on that.” His look was wicked as he whipped it off over his head then tossed it away. When he stared into her eyes, his expression was completely serious. “I love you, Lani.”

  “I know.” There wasn’t a doubt in her mind. “And I love you.”

  He wrapped her in his arms, and they were lost in each other for a long time. She was grateful for everything that happened. The park. The punch. A mystery ingredient. All of it had brought her to this moment and a lifetime of magic with her very own maverick.

  * * * * *

  From New York Times bestselling author

  Jodi Thomas comes a sweeping new series

  set in a remote west Texas town—where

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  also comes with a beautiful tenant—the former

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  Ransom Canyon

  Jodi Thomas

  Staten

  WHEN HER OLD hall clock chimed eleven times, Staten Kirkland left Quinn O’Grady’s bed. While she slept, he dressed in the shadows, watching her with only the light of the full moon. She’d given him what he needed tonight, and, as always, he felt as if he’d given her nothing.

  Walking out to her porch, he studied the newly washed earth, thinking of how empty his life was except for these few hours he shared with Quinn. He’d never love her or anyone, but he wished he could do something for her. Thanks to hard work and inherited land, he was a rich man. She was making a go of her farm, but barely. He could help her if she’d let him. But he knew she’d never let him.

  As he pulled on his boots, he thought of a dozen things he could do around the place. Like fixing that old tractor out in the mud or modernizing her irrigation system. The tractor had been sitting out by the road for months. If she’d accept his help, it wouldn’t take him an hour to pull the old John Deere out and get the engine running again.

  Only, she wouldn’t accept anything from him. He knew better than to ask.

  He wasn’t even sure they were friends some days. Maybe they were more. Maybe less. He looked down at his palm, remembering how she’d rubbed cream on it and worried that all they had in common was loss and the need, now and then, to touch another human being.

  The screen door creaked. He turned as Quinn, wrapped in an old quilt, moved out into the night.

  “I didn’t mean to wake you,” he said as she tiptoed across the snow-dusted porch. “I need to get back. Got eighty new yearlings coming in early.” He never apologized for leaving, and he wasn’t now. He was simply stating facts. With the cattle rustling going on and his plan to enlarge his herd, he might have to hire more men. As always, he felt as though he needed to be on his land and on alert.

  She nodded and moved to stand in front of him.

  Staten waited. They never touched after they made love. He usually left without a word, but tonight she obviously had something she wanted to say.

  Another thing he probably did wrong, he thought. He never complimented her, never kissed her on the mouth, never said any words after he touched her. If she didn’t make little sounds of pleasure now and then, he wouldn’t have been sure he satisfied her.

  Now, standing so close to her, he felt more a stranger than a lover. He knew the smell of her skin, but he had no idea what she was thinking most of the time. She knew quilting and how to make soap from her lavender. She played the piano like an angel and didn’t even own a TV. He knew ranching and watched from his recliner every game the Dallas Cowboys played.

  If they ever spent over an hour talking they’d probably figure out they had nothing in common. He’d played every sport in high school, and she’d played in both the orchestra and the band. He’d collected most of his college hours online, and she’d gone all the way to New York to school. But, they’d loved the same person. Amalah had been Quinn’s best friend and his one love. Only, they rarely talked about how they felt. Not anymore. Not ever really. It was too painful, he guessed, for both of them.

  Tonight the air was so still, moisture hung like invisible lace. She looked to be closer to her twenties than her forties. Quinn had her own quiet kind of beauty. She always had, and he guessed she still would even when she was old.

  To his surprise, she leaned in and kissed his mouth.

  He watched her. “You want more?” he finally asked, figuring it was probably the dumbest thing to say to a naked woman standing two inches away from him. He had no idea what more would be. They always had sex once, if they had it at all, when he knocked on her door. Sometimes neither made the first move, and they just cuddled on the couch and held each other. Quinn wasn’t a passionate woman. What they did was just satisfying a need that they both had now and then.

  She kissed him again without saying a word. When her cheek brushed against his stubbled chin, it was wet and tasted newborn like the rain.

  Slowly, Staten moved his hands under her blanket and circled her warm body, then he pulled her closer and kissed her fully like he hadn’t kissed a woman since his wife died.

  Her lips were soft and inviting. When he opened her mouth and invaded, it felt far more intimate than anything they had ever done, but he didn’t stop. She wanted this from him, and he had no intention of denying her. No one would ever know that she was the thread that kept him together some days.

  When he finally broke the kiss, Quinn was out of breath. She pressed her forehead against his jaw and he waited.

  “From now on,” she whispered so low he felt her words m
ore than heard them, “when you come to see me, I need you to kiss me goodbye before you go. If I’m asleep, wake me. You don’t have to say a word, but you have to kiss me.”

  She’d never asked him for anything. He had no intention of saying no. His hand spread across the small of her back and pulled her hard against him. “I won’t forget if that’s what you want.” He could feel her heart pounding and knew her asking had not come easy.

  She nodded. “It’s what I want.”

  He brushed his lips over hers, loving the way she sighed as if wanting more before she pulled away.

  “Good night,” she said as though rationing pleasure. Stepping inside, she closed the screen door between them.

  Raking his hair back, he put on his hat as he watched her fade into the shadows. The need to return was already building in him. “I’ll be back Friday night if it’s all right. It’ll be late, I’ve got to visit with my grandmother and do her list of chores before I’ll be free. If you like, I could bring barbecue for supper?” He felt as if he was rambling, but something needed to be said, and he had no idea what.

  “And vegetables,” she suggested.

  He nodded. She wanted a meal, not just the meat. “I’ll have them toss in sweet potato fries and okra.”

  She held the blanket tight as if he might see her body. She didn’t meet his eyes when he added, “I enjoyed kissing you, Quinn. I look forward to doing so again.”

  With her head down, she nodded as she vanished into the darkness without a word.

  He walked off the porch, deciding if he lived to be a hundred he’d never understand Quinn. As far as he knew, she’d never had a boyfriend when they were in school. And his wife had never told him about Quinn dating anyone special when she went to New York to that fancy music school. Now, in her forties, she’d never had a date, much less a lover that he knew of. But she hadn’t been a virgin when they’d made love the first time.

  Asking her about her love life seemed far too personal a question.