by Addison Fox
“I know, Finn. Damn it, I do know. I’ve always cared for Darby. She’s a good woman and I know my brother didn’t do right by her. But I can’t shake the fact that, of all the people in Bo’s life, including a bright and shiny fiancée he was a day away from marrying, Darby is the one who ends up with my brother’s life’s work.”
“For what it’s worth, I think she’s been wondering the same thing.”
“She doesn’t want the house or the business?” Carson asked, the conflicting anger over Bo’s death that clouded his dark gaze fading, replaced by the hard, flinty edges that defined a cop.
Finn didn’t miss the interest in the question, but kept his words carefully measured. “She’s committed to the business and she’s cleaned up that house like a whirling dervish. But I’m not sure it’s the life she’d have chosen for herself.”
He wasn’t sure why he kept the issue of Bo’s debt to himself but, like sharing the details on the bleach, something held him back. With the bleach it was respect for Darby as he waited for the lab to come back with some thoughts.
For the inheritance, it was respect for Carson.
The man had struggled enough knowing someone in Red Ridge had wanted his brother dead. The least he could do was allow Carson to hang on to one of the few illusions he might have possessed about his little brother.
Sometimes, Finn knew, illusions were all a person had.
* * *
The bouquet of bright red roses came through the front door of the police station first, visible for anyone who was looking. And she was looking.
And waiting.
She’d had them delivered earlier and had spent the afternoon waiting to see what Chief Colton would do with the gorgeous bouquet. She’d read up on the meaning of flowers and knew the blood-red blooms were the very definition of love, affection and desire.
The flowers came out first. Only, instead of seeing the object of that desire walking behind them, she saw the petite little secretary who manned the front desk like a pit bull.
A wave of fury filled her at the insult. How dare he? Those flowers were for Finn Colton. Why had he given them to the stupid little woman like they were some gift for her? Something white-hot began beating in her chest; a thick feeling that slammed blood through her veins even as she had an image of making Finn Colton pay for his unkindness.
She thought he was heroic. Perfect. Superior in every way.
More, she believed they shared something special and it would only take a few more gifts before he understood—no, before he knew—who was sending the gifts. Like a little game between them.
A lover’s game.
That stupid little secretary carried the roses in her arms, juggling them as she dug for keys in her purse. Only, once she found them, she opened the back door and threw the roses onto the seat.
Threw them!
The white-hot anger that bubbled in her veins took on a new form as, suddenly, it all became clear. Finn Colton hadn’t disregarded the blooms. That stupid little woman had kept them for herself.
The bitch thought she was so crafty, stealing what wasn’t hers.
But the woman would know soon enough.
As she watched, she toyed briefly with going after the secretary, following the little hatchback through town and running her off the road. There were patches of black ice all over Red Ridge this time of year and no one would think twice about an untimely skid.
The thought tempted—sorely tempted—but she’d hold off for now. If she acted too hastily, she might attract Finn’s attention in ways that weren’t welcome.
And she couldn’t afford to upset him. Not now. Not yet.
She had big plans for herself and Finn Colton.
The thought had the anger fading in her mind to be replaced with the sweetest anticipation. There’d be other bouquets. Other gifts. There was the one in particular that she couldn’t wait to give him.
It wouldn’t do to be hasty.
Oh, no. She needed to focus on her plans. If she kept to her schedule, they’d be laughing with each other and dreaming with each other and planning a future with each other. It was all coming together.
It was only a matter of time now.
Chapter 6
Be ready at seven sharp.
That was all the man had said that morning when he’d left. What had seemed like a simple set of instructions had grown maddeningly empty of information as the day wore on and the minutes ticked closer and closer to seven.
Should she dress up? Go casual? Were they going to dinner or dancing? Or both? Should she bundle up in her thickest coat or try to outmaneuver a frigid South Dakota night with nothing more than a wrap to get her from the car to the door of wherever it was they were going.
Wherever it was they were going.
Why hadn’t she asked these things when she’d had the chance?
“Because I was too busy trying to keep my tongue in my mouth at the instruction to be ready at seven sharp.” The words came out in a disgusted rush to her partner in crime, Penny.
Although the dog hadn’t warmed enough to allow even the most simple gesture of a pat on the head, she’d taken to following Darby around the house. Even now, she lay spread out on the bed, her eyes following as Darby paced a hole in the already-threadbare carpet.
“I don’t even have anything to wear. Cinderella dressed better than I did and that was after her stepsisters got done with her.” Darby muttered the words as she pawed through the meager line of clothes in the closet she used to share with Bo. Her work at the Red Ridge diner consisted of a uniform provided by the owner, and she would never dream of wearing anything dressier than jeans and a T-shirt or sweatshirt when working at the K-9 training center.
In the end, she opted for a black dress she’d bought for a wedding a million years ago and called it a day. It wasn’t exactly dowdy but she wasn’t going to set Red Ridge on fire this evening, either. But it did have a nice neckline and exposed enough cleavage that she might hope Finn Colton’s eyes didn’t stray to the unfashionable style as it wrapped around her hips and on down to her knees.
“Not that the man needs to be looking at my breasts.”
Penny’s eyebrows shot up but her gaze remained steady. Darby had the rueful thought that the dog had had sex more recently than she had.
Since that train of thought left her feeling worse than she’d have expected, Darby slipped into a pair of heels that were as old as the dress and marched out of the room. The clock read four minutes before seven and she’d barely cleared the hallway when a heavy knock sounded on the front door.
“Right on time.” She didn’t attempt to play coy by making him wait, nor was she willing to spend one more moment primping, so she skipped the hallway mirror.
Which made the funny little jump in her heartbeat that much odder when she opened the door to see Chief Finn Colton standing on the other side. Although she’d seen him around town without his uniform on, something about the black slacks, untucked gray shirt and leather jacket still caught her by the throat.
Oh, my, did the man look good.
Too good.
Confusingly good.
She ignored the rush of something a younger, more foolish Darby might have called lust and gestured him inside. “Come on in. I’ll just get my things and we can get going.”
“Take your time. I’m early.”
“Bo was always twenty minutes late. Far be it from me to argue with a man who arrives when he says he will.”
Finn’s smile never wavered but something she couldn’t define registered in his steady gaze. Was it the mention of Bo? This might not be a real date, but few men wanted to be compared to another man, even if that comparison was in their favor.
“Still, feel free to take your time.”
Finn’s smile lit up his face when he caught sight of her room
mate.
Penny had followed her out to the hallway and was even now allowing Finn to rub and scratch at her ears and face, seeming to bask in the glow of male attention. Not that Darby could blame Penny. She wouldn’t mind basking in the glow of Finn Colton’s attention, either.
The man thinks you’re a murder suspect. You’ve got plenty of his attention.
The practical little voice inside tossed that bucket of ice water, as cold as the Red Ridge River in...well, February. And while Darby tried momentarily to cling to the truth of that jarring thought, her hormones unfortunately won the battle and succeeded in shutting up her whiny voice of indignation.
Finn did look good. And watching the man pet and love on her dog thawed something deep inside her.
“Let me just get my coat.”
Since he wore only his leather jacket, she opted for a thinner wool coat instead of the large puffy one she favored in winter that wrapped her from the bottom of her chin to the top of her ankles. It was the height of ugly, the puffy material giving her the fashion equivalent of round tires from her shoulders to her feet, but it kept her warm.
Which had her roundly cursing herself a few minutes later when Finn walked her to his SUV. Cold crept up her dress, freezing her legs on contact, and a series of shivers settled deep into her bones before he’d barely helped her up into the passenger seat of his large SUV. Finn rounded the vehicle and hopped in, but even with the sudden blast of warmth from the heater, she couldn’t warm up.
“Penny seems to be warming up.”
The choice of words—and the chattering that set in despite her best efforts—had a small burst of laughter bubbling in her throat. “She likes y-you m-more th-than she li-likes me.”
“Darby?”
“So—sorry.” A wave of chattering hit her again and she tried to bite back her words.
“Are you okay?”
“Ju-just got a ch-chill.”
Finn turned the heater on even higher, then pulled to the side of the road. In seconds, he had his seat belt off and then his jacket. “Here. Put this on.”
“I’m f-fine.”
“Right.”
Before she could register his actions, that big body simply seemed to envelop her. He twisted in his seat, his focus on her as he settled his large coat over her, tucking the sides up against her body, and then rubbing her arms to warm her. “It’s a cold night.”
“An-and now you’re wi-without a c-coat.” The chattering had already gotten better and Darby felt her jaw calming from the incessant rattling. “Aren’t you cold?”
“I’m a furnace. Which does me well in the middle of winter and ensures I hate summer with a passion.”
“Who h-hates summer?” The question came out almost normal but Darby had to hold back the stammer as he kept his focus on her. His eyes never left hers, even as he continued to rub at her arms through the warmth of his coat.
Between the layers of his jacket, her inadequate wool coat and the long sleeves of her dress, his touch should have felt impersonal. Or difficult to even distinguish.
But, oh, how she felt him.
The solid strokes of his hands. The long, capable fingers. And that penetrating, sloe-eyed gaze that did as much to increase her temperature as the body-warmed coat and steady movements to circulate her blood.
His hands slowed but he didn’t break contact. “Better?”
“Yes.” She nodded but didn’t say anything else. The chattering teeth had faded completely but she couldn’t be too sure her voice wouldn’t crack under the scrutiny.
Finn didn’t break contact but it was only after another long, tense moment that he seemed to catch himself. With a light pat on her shoulder, he repositioned himself in his seat and pulled on his seat belt. “South Dakota winters are nothing to mess with.”
“No,” she agreed, pleased when her voice came out steady. “They’re not.”
“Even when you do have a killer pair of legs.”
* * *
The bright lights of the Red Ridge Trattoria beckoned them closer as Finn pulled up to the curb. The owner, Paolo, had worked in the competitive restaurant community of Los Angeles for nearly twenty years. He’d uprooted himself a decade ago, moved to Red Ridge and, in short order, had wooed—and won—the county beauty queen and opened up the Trattoria. Although Paolo had slowly adjusted to the slower pace of things in Red Ridge, he’d insisted on three things. Reservations. The highest quality meats flown in three times a week. And a valet that managed parking.
Finn handed over his keys to the young man who’d clearly drawn the short straw to get parking duty on a night below freezing and mentally calculated an increased tip for the service. He then came around the SUV to help Darby out of the passenger seat.
He hadn’t been joking about the legs. She was already starting to shift out of the vehicle, struggling beneath the extra weight of his coat, when he took her hand and pulled her out. Her legs came first, followed by the rest of her and, once again, he was struck by the sexy path from knee to ankle on display.
She was a looker. One that caught a man by surprise. She was pretty, in a simple sense, until you looked closer. Then you realized that what seemed cute on first glance had more depth and nuance that deserved a second look.
And a third.
What he couldn’t quite get a grip on was why he hadn’t looked closer before.
Her dark hair curled slightly, the light catching the swoops of her curls and setting off vibrant red undertones. Her eyes were large and round, that fascinating blue edging toward violet, and sat in a face carved with high cheekbones, a pert nose and a lush lower lip that drew his attention with the same fervor as her legs.
Although he’d certainly looked her over the past few days, as well as in the years he’d seen her peripherally around town, it surprised him to realize just how truly pretty she was.
And how small.
Strong, yes, but a petite little thing. Even in her heels she barely cleared his shoulder. Although he usually went for taller women—his ex-wife had been a statuesque brunette who was nearly eye level to him—he couldn’t deny the surge of protectiveness that coursed through him as he took in the small frame beside him.
A fresh burst of cold air helped clear his head and he concentrated on walking her to the door. He hadn’t been lying—he was warm-blooded—but the heat that suffused his limbs came from something else.
Something that struck him a lot like desire.
Once inside, Paolo himself greeted them, his proprietor’s smile in place as he shook Finn’s hand and fussed over Darby. Although he still took the reins in the kitchen from time to time, Paolo had firmly moved in to the role of restaurant owner and left most of the cooking to a young protégé from California who had figured out a lot sooner than Paolo had that he wanted a vibrant life away from the rat race.
Finn was still thinking about the kid as they were seated, a list of specials handed to him along with the wine list.
“That’s an awfully enigmatic smile,” Darby commented as she settled her napkin in her lap. “Care to let me in on the joke?”
Finn handed over the sheet of specials before opening his napkin. “Just thinking about the appeal of our small town.”
“Oh?”
He tilted his head in the direction of the front door. “Paolo. The chef in the back that he hired from L.A. Both came here to change their lives and soak in the steady, easy pace we have here. Small-town life isn’t all bad.”
“Did someone say it was?”
“No. But there are times it can be, at the risk of sounding cliché, small.”
She glanced out the window beside their table—the one front and center he’d specifically requested—her gaze roaming over Main Street. On a soft sigh she turned back to look at him. “I don’t know. After the events of the past month, I sort of wish we could go b
ack to small and quiet.”
“We will. Soon.”
“You seem awfully sure of that.”
“Because I am.”
The same searching glance she’d given the street transferred to him. “You can’t know that.”
“I know what I know. We’re going to catch a killer. And we’re going to figure out why they’ve done what they’ve done.”
He just hoped he could do it before anyone else got hurt.
Or before the town’s business owners went belly-up. It hadn’t escaped his notice that there were few cars parked in the lot beside the restaurant when the valet had taken his car. Nor had he missed the number of empty tables. Even on a Monday, the Trattoria typically did more business than six scattered tables of diners.
Their waiter hurried over and reiterated the specials before asking for drink orders, gesturing to Darby to go first.
“I’ll have a glass of your Chianti.”
“And a club soda for me,” Finn added.
“Oh. Well, then. I’ll have an iced tea.”
Finn reached over and laid a hand on hers. “Don’t let me be the spoilsport, darling. Enjoy the glass of wine. It’ll go well with whatever you order.”
On immediate contact her hand stiffened beneath his, going positively rigid at the endearment before relaxing. “Okay, then. One glass.”
She slipped her hand away once the waiter was out of view. “I don’t need to drink.”
“On the contrary. You should enjoy yourself. I can’t drink because I’m technically on duty.”
“Of course.”
It was an op but Finn wasn’t anxious to keep reminding Darby of that. He much preferred the wide eyes and small, supple body he’d wrapped up in his coat than the subtle defeat he saw in both now.
So act like it’s a real date, Colton.
Although he couldn’t afford to let his focus fade, it didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy an evening with a beautiful woman. And while his dating skills were hardly legendary, he did know how to take a woman to dinner and give her an enjoyable evening.
