Blowing out a breath, Hope said, “That’s easier said than done.”
“I know.” He slung an arm around her shoulders and tugged her close, pressing his lips to her brow. “But you need to do it. You kicked him to the curb and I know that was harder than hell. Do the same with his memory. Stop letting it choke you … at least for tonight. See where it takes you.”
She sighed and rested her head on his shoulder.
“Yeah.” She’d kicked him to the curb, and that was what she needed to do with his memory as well.
“Thank you,” she said quietly, snaking an arm around his waist to hug him.
“For what?”
She squeezed him and stepped back. “For everything. You’ve always been there, you know. Always. I know you don’t want thanks, but …”
Law went red and looked away. “Where else would I be? We’re friends. That’s what we do.”
“Yeah.” She might have said something else, but the phone rang. Sighing, she turned away to answer it.
But the second she lifted it to her ear, the line went dead.
He almost brought flowers.
Remy liked romancing a woman.
There was something uniquely pleasurable about it, and each woman was different.
But his gut told him he needed to move slow—as in glacially slow—with Hope.
So no flowers.
But as he stood on the porch and waited for Law to move his lazy ass and open the damn door, Remy wished he’d bought the fricking flowers. Would have given him something to do with his hands. He tucked them into his pockets. Counted to five. Rang the doorbell again. Nobody answered.
Rang it again. Dread curled through him and his mind, usually so logical and calm, started working overtime. His hands curled into fists and he found himself thinking about what had happened here just a few weeks ago—
But just as he’d worked himself up to take the door down, Law opened it.
Blowing out a breath, he scowled at the other man.
“Nice to see you, too, Jennings,” Law said, smirking.
“What in the hell were you doing?”
Law cocked a brow. “Trying to talk some sense into Hope—I thought she had better taste than to date a lawyer.” Then he shoved the door open wide. “It’s not taking, though, since she’s all ready for ya.”
Hope stood in the arched doorway between the living room and hallway, scowling at Law.
Remy was damned glad she wasn’t looking at him because he almost swallowed his tongue when he saw her.
Oh, holy shit, he was screwed.
She was wearing bright, vivid green, and her pale, silken skin glowed against the silk. His hands itched to touch all that smooth, soft skin and damn, there was a lot of it bared.
The halter top left her shoulders and arms exposed, ended just where her low-rise jeans started. She sighed, her shoulders rising with the movement and he caught a glimpse of her belly. Another glimpse of pale, pale skin …
Oh, hell, was he screwed.
“Law, you’re a pain in the ass,” she said, shaking her head. Her cheeks were pink and her eyes had that glint in them, like she’d been laughing. A lot.
Law tipped his beer toward her. “I love you, too, honey.”
Hope rolled her eyes and then looked at Remy. “Hi. I just need to grab a jacket, then I’m ready if you are.”
Ready? Yeah, he was ready, but he doubted she was ready for the same thing he had in mind. Swallowing, he said, “Uh, yeah. Thought maybe we could grab a bite from Mac’s Grill first—you haven’t eaten, have you?”
Actually, he’d planned on taking her to the Inn, but that idea was not going to work. Candlelight on that smooth white skin—
Stop thinking about her skin, damn it!
“No, I haven’t eaten.” She gave him one of those nervous, shy smiles and then glanced at Law. “I’ll see you later.”
“Don’t forget your curfew.”
“Ha, ha.” Hope gave him a narrow look and then focused her eyes on Remy.
He stared back at her, and he might have just kept on staring at her if she hadn’t started to shuffle her feet, and if Law hadn’t cleared his throat—very loudly in a very obnoxious manner.
Suave, Jennings … real suave. Let’s see how well you manage to impress the lady tonight …
He gestured to the door, wracked his brain for something to say. He should say something. He knew he should. But what?
He had no clue.
As he opened the door for her, Law caught his gaze.
The other guy lifted a brow.
A thousand unspoken words passed between them and the nerves in Remy’s gut increased. A weight settled on his shoulders.
If it had been anybody but Hope, the look on Law’s face—that look that warned Remy to be cautious, be careful, it might have pissed him off a little. After all, she was a grown woman, right?
It didn’t piss him off, though.
He just gave Law a short, terse nod and then headed outside, joining Hope on the porch.
The woman had been through hell, and she deserved … needed … to be treated with some care, with some caution.
Remy just hoped to hell he didn’t fuck it all up.
“Did you like the movie?”
Hope winced as Remy’s low, smooth voice broke through the silence of the night.
Shit, she’d hoped he wasn’t going to ask that.
Her mind raced as she tried to come up with an answer, but she thought about it too long.
He sighed and said, “I take it that silence is a polite no?”
“No. Um, I mean, no, it’s not a no.” She shifted on the seat and rubbed her arms. Even with the jacket, she was still chilly. The nights were getting cool. “I … well.”
Remy laughed. “Hope, it’s not a test. Either you liked it or not—easy question.”
“It’s not an easy question,” she muttered, smoothing her hands down her jeans. She glanced out the window as he turned toward Law’s house. “I hardly remember any of it.”
“You don’t remember any of it?”
She shot him a narrow look. “Hardly remember any of it. That doesn’t mean all of it.” She reached up to toy with her hair only to lower her hand. It hovered in the air for a second, then fell to her side, curled into a fist.
He came to a stop in front of Law’s house and climbed out, walking around to open the door for her. He held out a hand and she glanced down at his hand for a second before accepting it, that shy, nervous smile curling her lips.
“So you don’t remember the movie, huh?” he asked.
The silvery light of the moon was bright enough to let him see the blush highlighting her cheeks.
“Umm …”
“I don’t remember a whole lot of it myself,” he murmured. Unable to stop himself, he reached over, brushed his fingers over the edges of her hair.
Her breath caught in her chest.
Shifting his gaze from her hair to her eyes, he murmured, “I get the feeling there’s a story behind the change.”
“Yeah. You could say that.”
“Thought so. Maybe sometime, you’ll tell me,” he said quietly. The soft, gleaming strands of her hair felt like silk under his hand. Still watching her face, her eyes for some sign of fear, he combed his fingers through the sleek cut, cradled her nape.
She tilted her head back, watching him from under her lashes.
She licked her lips and Remy groaned. “Damn it, Hope.”
“What?”
The soft, shaky sound of her voice should have done something to cool the fire burning inside him. Something. But her eyes gleamed with something other than fear. Unable to pull away, he lowered his head and slanted his mouth over hers.
One kiss, he told himself.
Just one easy, quick kiss.
He had plenty of control.
He could control his temper, his hunger, his …
Her mouth opened under his and she met his kiss with shy, sweet he
sitation.
Remy felt like the very ground had crumbled under his feet.
Oh, hell.
Hope’s hands came up, curled into the front of his shirt. He wanted to grab her, haul her closer. Wanted to feel that slender, soft body plastered against his—
Instead, he traced his tongue along the line of her mouth, teased hers. She tasted like butter and salt and under that, he could taste her. It threatened to drive him insane, threatened to level him. His hands itched to roam all over her body, to learn the delicate curves under that green silk.
But he kept his other hand at his side, touching only her neck, keeping it light … keeping it easy.
Even when her mouth opened wider and she leaned against him, her hands coming up to rest on his shoulders.
But when she shifted closer, as he felt the soft press of her breasts, he groaned and tore his mouth away, resting his brow against hers.
Her lashes fluttered open and her eyes, misty and green, stared into his.
She looked dazed.
Good. He’d hate to be the only one.
“Damn it, Hope, you’re going to kill me here,” he muttered.
“What?”
She licked her lips and shifted her gaze to his mouth, pushed up onto her toes.
Off in the distance, a car honked its horn, blasted its way down the road, driving far, far too fast.
Hope jumped.
Reluctantly, Remy let her go, watched as awareness slowly crept back into her gaze. Awareness … and embarrassment. A blush crept up her neck, staining her pale, ivory skin a delicate pink.
He brushed the back of his knuckles down her cheek and murmured, “You pack one hell of a punch, you know that?”
“Um … whatever.” The blush deepened and a self-conscious smile curled her lips.
Grinning, he dipped his head and this time, he kept the kiss quick and easy, pulling back before he could take it any deeper. Hunger gnawed at him, but he shoved it down, locked it up. Slow. He had to take this slow—glacier slow, he reminded himself. Against her mouth, he whispered, “So you maybe want to try this again sometime?”
He lifted his head and toyed with her hair as he waited for her to open her eyes and meet his gaze. “Hmmm. Yeah. Yeah, I think maybe I would.”
“So?”
Hope closed the door behind her and leaned back against it.
Law was lounging against the arch between the living room and hallway, a smug grin on his face.
Rolling her eyes, she tried to pretend she wasn’t blushing.
“Please tell me you weren’t watching us through the window.”
“Would I do that?” he asked, cocking a brow at her.
“You? Yes. Absolutely you would. You’re the nosiest person I’ve ever met.”
Guilelessly, he smiled. “Yes. I am. And yes, I was watching. So. When you two going out again?”
“Who said we were?” Hope scowled at him, crossing her arms over her chest. Her heart was still racing, she thought. Racing and dancing around like it hadn’t since … well, ever. She hadn’t ever felt quite like this. And if Law weren’t standing there, she suspected she might have been grinning like a fool. As it was, she had to fight to keep the smile from tugging up the corners of her mouth.
Happy.
Damn.
She felt … light, easy … happy.
She hadn’t felt this at peace, this easy, this happy in years.
Still, with Law smugly grinning at her, she felt obligated to glare at him.
He reached up, rubbed his chin. “Are you going out again?
“Yes.” Hope rolled her eyes. “We’re going out for dinner at the Inn tomorrow night. He mentioned something about Sunday, but we’ve been going over to Lena’s lately, so …”
Law shrugged. “Call him and invite him along.”
“Umm …”
“Lena won’t mind.”
Hope blushed and looked away, trying to pretend that was her only concern. But Law knew her too well. He sighed and shoved off the wall, came over and settled against the door next to her.
“Honey, he’s not still pining after Lena. Trust me. Okay?”
Lifting her eyes to him, she said, “It’s silly to even be worried about it, isn’t it?”
“No.” He slung an arm over her shoulders. “Hope, it’s kinda obvious, there’s something between you two—I think there’s been a vibe there for a while. Sometimes it happens that fast. The shit going on around here has complicated things, but it didn’t kill whatever’s trying to happen. So while I don’t think you need to worry about his past with Lena, I also think it’s perfectly normal that you do worry about it.”
Resting her head against him, she sighed. “Is it hard for you? Seeing her so happy with Ezra?”
Law grunted. “Shit, you had to go ask that, didn’t you?” He thunked his head back against the door, staring off into the darkness of the quiet house. “It was … at first. Damn hard. But he makes her happy, and after a little while, I finally figured out one vital thing—if she’s happy with him, that means one thing. She’s not meant to be with me.”
“Law …”
The phone rang.
Hope jolted. Law scowled.
Shoving off the wall, he went over and grabbed the phone, studied the blank readout on the caller ID and didn’t pick it up.
But he did eye the time on the clock. “It’s damn near one in the morning. Who in the hell is calling?”
Three rings later, the phone rolled over to voice mail.
Law went to check the message. Hope, a little nosy herself, trailed along.
But there wasn’t any message, other than a few seconds of dead air.
“Must be a wrong number,” he mused, as he disconnected.
He hung up the phone.
Wrong number.
But for some reason, Hope shivered.
That was a bad decision, my girl, Joe thought, watching from the darkness of his car, as each of the lights in Law Reilly’s house went dim. It was bad enough that she’d come here—to Reilly’s. It was his damn fault, Joe thought. His fucking fault that she’d left him. She shouldn’t have come here and she’d pay for it.
The whore.
But she wasn’t just here with Reilly.
She’d gone out with that pussy lawyer. That fucking asshole who’d called all around his town, talking to people. They thought Joe hadn’t seen the way they looked at him, but he had. Yeah, he’d fucking seen those looks. It would stop, though. When he brought her back home, they’d see who was in charge.
The betrayal was like acid. She left him, then she came here not just to Law, but now she was out with Jennings. She’d let him put his hands on her.
She’d fucking cut her hair.
Bad, bad decisions all around.
He eyed his phone, considered calling again.
But in the end, decided against it.
Subtle.
He’d be subtle about all of this.
Be slow as he moved in on her.
He didn’t want her too freaked out, didn’t want to scare her into running.
No. He didn’t want her to see him coming until it was too late.
CHAPTER
TWELVE
IT WAS MONDAY MORNING, AND EXACTLY ONE MONTH to the day after she’d buried cousin Joely, Nia Hollister rode back into the small town of Ash, Kentucky.
She knew she’d caught some looks.
Small town in Kentucky, strange biracial woman riding into town on a Harley—yeah, that’s going to catch a few looks.
Those looks only increased when she parked in front of the sheriff’s department and got off her bike.
She was five foot ten and most of it was leg. The boots she wore added a good two inches to her height, so she stood a good six feet even. Add to that the fact that she knew she wore her anger and grief like an ugly, red scar, and she knew she’d have people looking at her. She knew many of them would probably be whispering about her behind her back and wondering w
hat kind of trouble she was looking to cause.
Well, she was here to cause trouble.
For a few specific people.
Starting with Sheriff Dwight Nielson.
She pocketed her keys and started up the concrete sidewalk.
No news.
Oh, the good sheriff was keeping in touch. She had to give him credit for that.
But he didn’t have anything new to tell her.
There was nothing new.
Actually, there was nothing.
And Nia was fucking tired of it.
There had to be something.
Something.
And damn it, she wasn’t leaving until she knew something.
The one day Ms. Tuttle arranged to take off turned out to be the one day Nielson desperately needed her.
“You can’t honestly expect me to believe that you think both of them are innocent,” Deb spat.
She said it like the words themselves tasted bad or something, Nielson thought.
He kept his hands folded on his desk, kept his face impassive, kept his voice mild as he responded, “Deb, if I thought they were guilty, I’d look for proof. And even if I didn’t think they were guilty, I’d look for proof. And I have. I’ve had several deputies assigned to this. Detective Jennings has spent hours on this. I’ve spent hours on it. There is no proof. We have no interest in either Law Reilly or Hope Carson for the crimes. And unless you actually have something other than … dislike, you need to let this go.”
“Let it go?”
She stood up straight as board, pressed a hand to her chest. The look on her face was one of complete, utter moral outrage. Nielson would have laughed, if he hadn’t known just how much worse it would have made things.
If only he had known just how bad things were about to get …
“Excuse me, Sheriff.”
He glanced up.
Nia Hollister cast a long, lean shadow.
She didn’t share much in common with her cousin, other than her name.
But he could see how grief weighed down on her, see the anger she carried like a weapon.
It vibrated around her and his office felt ten times smaller—a dangerous combination.
Her eyes zeroed in on Deb Sparks and Nielson found himself remembering the last time Nia had been in his office.
Deb had also been here.
If You See Her Page 17
