The Moments We Chose Love

Book 3: Swift Rivers Series

by LJ Evans

Genres: Family Life; Romance; Police & Law Enforcement Romance; Small-town Romance; Romantic Suspense; Friends to lovers; cowboy romance; small town romance; Single Dad romance; age gap romance; sheriff; police romance; no 3rd act breakup; heroine on the run

Synopsis

ANDIE: Nine years ago, I ran for my life.

Since then, I've slowly rebuilt what was taken from me. But it’s risky to let my roots grow too deep. Anyone I let close could pay the price if my past catches up with me.

Then Cooper moves in next door.

The devastatingly handsome sheriff and his teenage son aren’t supposed to become part of my carefully ordered world. Yet between shared meals, stolen glances, and the way they make room for me in their lives, I find myself craving the home and family I swore wasn’t in the cards.

Except, the moment Cooper learns who I really am, he'll have every reason to walk away.

COOPER: Coming home to Swift Rivers was supposed to be about family: helping my father recover and giving my son a chance to start over.

Falling for my neighbor wasn't part of the plan.

Andie is beautiful, guarded, and hiding something. But the more time my son and I spend with her, the more I see the caring woman behind the cautious smiles—the one determined to shoulder her burdens alone. Now all I want is a future that includes her forever at my side.

When the shadows she once escaped creep into Swift Rivers, protecting her becomes the only thing that matters.

As danger closes in and the truth comes to light, we'll have to decide whether our scars and secrets are reasons to walk away—or reasons to finally choose love and stay.

Welcome to Swift Rivers, where heroes fall hard, cowgirls fight back, and love is the bravest rescue of all. An interconnected, standalone series that can be read in any order.

Release date: September 23, 2026

Publisher: LJ Evans Books

Print pages: 456

Content advisory: See warnings on LJ Evans Books website

Sample

Prologue

Andie

ALL THE TROUBLE

Performed by Lee Ann Womack

 

NINE YEARS AGO

 

Pain hammered through my skull, traveling down my neck to my right arm, before spiraling across my torso. It jolted me back to consciousness with a groan I tried to bite back. For one brief second, disappointment curled through me. I’d survived. I’d lived, which only meant I’d experience this all over again. The fear. The pain. The absolute desolation and isolation.

I tried to swallow the pool of saliva and blood that filled my mouth, and the simple bodily function shot agony through my jaw. Inhaling felt like a thousand daggers had been shoved into my lungs.

After several tries, I was able to force one eyelid open. The world was blurry. A living room I’d first seen as an escape but had quickly turned into a prison swam before me.

Exhausted by the effort, my eye closed again.

I focused on breathing, on shoving the vicious, pounding torture running through my body to the back of my mind, locking it up in the same place I held the verbal taunts of my childhood. Taunts that, in hindsight, had shoved me right into Eddie’s arms. My inner child had hoped for a better future, only to end up with something horribly worse.

Sirens screamed in the distance, but I didn’t believe they were for me.

The back door slammed shut.

Fear shot through me. My slow pulse crescendoed until I could hardly feel the breaks in the beats.

If he came back, I really would die. It would be over. I’d have no chance of earning redemption for my sins.

I compelled my single functioning eyelid back open and forced my body onto its side, hoping I could climb to my knees. The movement drew my attention to an uncomfortable weight in my hand.

A gun. Black with an etched silver handle. Heavy and solid.

Fancier than my dad’s service weapon. Larger than the one my half brother had offered me. I’d declined it, afraid that my childhood disgust of guns wouldn’t be enough to stop me from pulling the trigger. And I didn’t want Eddie dead… I just wanted him to leave me alone.

As the gun slid from my fingers, the small, slow breath I’d taken evaporated as my blurry eyes caught sight of what lay beyond it.

Eddie was on the floor next to me, his stunning chocolate eyes wide and vacant. Blood was sprayed across his white T-shirt and the muscled chest I’d once admired. Some of that blood was mine, like the red coating his bruised knuckles, but the majority of it, seeping insidiously through the cotton, was from the hole dead center in his chest.

Muddled bewilderment blended with the pain screeching through my head.

Had I shot Eddie?

Had I somehow manifested my dreams into reality? If I had, why couldn’t I remember?

The sirens wailed, the sound much closer than before, as if they’d turned down the street.

My panic increased. A different sort of alarm than the slam of the back door had caused. The sirens meant my father’s arrival.

God…what would Dad say when he found Eddie dead with the gun at my side?

My heart hammered, and every wound and break became intolerable. The room spun. Unconsciousness threatened.

Dad’s words from months ago reverberated through my aching skull. You chose to lie with a venomous snake, Ariana. You’ll need to learn to survive the strikes. And you damn well better keep that poison from bleeding onto me.

He’d be furious at this new scandal. Regardless of whether I claimed self-defense, my name would be dragged through it all, and his name right alongside it. His opponents would thrive on it.

Tears burned the cuts on my cheeks.

I really was a fucking screwup. Instead of proving my parents’ words wrong, as I’d intended, I’d only added to the truth of them.

A gap in the floorboard beside Eddie caught my attention. It revealed a sliver of the dark space below—the hideaway where he’d kept the money he’d borrowed, promising to double it, only to fail. The money that had made him more and more reckless…angry…fearful. Usually, Eddie was scared of no one, but I’d seen the fear in his eyes when he talked about the person he’d borrowed the money from. I’d given up asking him who it was after the first hit.

I scooted along the floor, pushing the loose board with all my might and peering inside. Relief filled me. The money was still there. At least Eddie couldn’t blame me for the cash disappearing.

A choked, fanatical laughter caused me to cough, spreading more anguish through my brutalized body. Eddie couldn’t hurt me. Not ever again. Not when he was dead.

But whoever he’d borrowed the money from could and would. They’d come looking for it when news of Eddie’s death hit. They’d torture me…or Marla. While there was no love lost between Eddie’s sister and me—she made her disgust for me known daily—I wouldn’t let the timid woman who could barely speak and scuttled to do Eddie’s bidding be tortured for things she didn’t know. Mistakes that lay solely on Eddie’s shoulders—and mine for helping him.

Bile burned through my esophagus.

The sirens grew louder, followed by tires squealing to a stop in front of the house, and I used the little strength I had left to push the gun inside the hiding place. I dropped the plank back in place and collapsed on top of it, letting the darkness fill my vision once more.

It would be a brief respite from the new hell that would greet me when I woke.

Maybe I wouldn’t wake.

Maybe I’d just stay in the dark abyss where nothing could ever hurt me again.

 

 

Chapter One

Andie

20-20

Performed by Ella Langley

 

NINE YEARS LATER

 

Even after owning it for eight months, I still couldn’t quite believe that the little blue-and-white Craftsman at the edge of the cul-de-sac was mine.

Mine…

Which was more than likely the reason everything was threatening to go wrong, just like every other time I’d reached for more.

I pushed that depressing thought aside as I turned into the driveway on Meadow Lane. My shoulders were tight, not only from leaving a pile of unfinished work at the resort but from the dread of hearing what the plumber would have to say about the repairs.

When the pipe in the kitchen had burst this weekend with the force of the waterfall at the Harrington Ranch, I’d had to scramble to figure out how to turn the water off. And if I ever wanted to use my sink again, I had no choice but to agree to whatever price the plumber would charge to fix it. I just had to hope the home warranty, or my meager bank account, could cover it.

As I got out of my ten-year-old SUV, my phone chimed, and I scanned my smartwatch to read the incoming message.

Emergency call. Can’t make it today. Will reschedule.

I closed my eyes and exhaled slowly as frustration bloomed. Wasn’t the broken pipe an emergency too?

And if the plumber was going to cancel, why couldn’t he have done it before I’d left work? I had dozens of applications for the event coordinator position to sift through if we hoped to have someone hired by next week. Plus, I had three bids to review for the marquee Fallon needed assembled before the winter charity event we’d just agreed to host for the Golden Hero Foundation.

With this added, unplanned event, I had more to do than I had hours in a day.

As I stood, debating whether to return to the ranch or not, the vibrant pastel-colored freesias in the copper pots flanking the forest-green door waved in the breeze in a gentle greeting. The flowers represented gratitude and friendship, both things I’d found here in Swift Rivers. Just as I’d found peace and respite from my demons.

This sweet, little cottage belonged completely and wholly to me. I’d finally taken a chance and tried to plant myself permanently in one place, and yet I was hardly ever here to enjoy it. A sudden ache in my heart had me yearning for the home I’d tried to build. So instead of heading back to my car, I walked up the path to the porch. I’d take a few hours today to revel in home ownership and decide on the next DIY project to tackle.

I mounted the steps I’d sanded and painted myself and ran a hand over the hummingbirds and dragonflies etched in the door’s stained-glass cutouts. The beautiful art had spoken to me the first time I’d walked up to the house, reminding me that joy could be found in change, in resilience and adaptability, especially when it wasn’t forced upon you.

When I opened the door, the perfection of the refurbished porch didn’t follow me inside. Instead, chipped, dark paint and worn floors greeted me. After spending all my spare time and money on the exterior this summer, I’d never gotten around to working on the interior. The only splurge I’d allowed myself was in redoing my bedroom and buying the cozy, navy-blue couch sitting forlornly in a nearly empty living room.

I stepped out of my heels, dropped them in a waiting basket by the door, and headed straight for the kitchen. The mess from the burst pipe, the bucket and rags strewn across the cracked linoleum floor, made my chest tighten all over again. The overwhelming urge to clean it right away had nearly kept me up all night, even knowing the plumber would just make a mess again. That ability to make everything neat and tidy these days was a reminder that I’d made it beyond my past. Reminded me I had no one punishing me for…

Stop.

Nothing good would come from going down that rabbit hole and reliving those memories.

My watch buzzed again, and I was surprised to see I’d missed a call. I dropped my bag on the counter and dug out my phone. Maybe it was the plumber saying he could come after all.

I hit play on the voicemail and reached for a Mountain Dew in the refrigerator. The can nearly slipped from my fingers at the voice I both loved and dreaded hearing.

“Hey, little sis. We haven’t talked in a while, and I wanted to check in.”

Unfortunately, my half brother’s gruff, deep voice, full of gentle caring, only allowed those dark memories I’d just pushed away to resurface. It wasn’t just the horror I’d needed Dawson to save me from that swelled. It was the fear I might need him to do it all over again someday.

This peaceful life I’d carved out was built on the painful knowledge I’d never see or hug Dawson, his lovely wife, or my nieces and nephew ever again. Simply talking to him could put us both at risk. He always called from a disposable phone he kept just for me and switched up often, but if anyone were to connect us, the life he had built could be threatened too. After all, he’d obstructed justice, hidden someone wanted for questioning…wanted for crimes they’d committed.

And while I truly treasured the rare times I heard from him, every time I did, I wondered if he was going to break horrible news to me. I wondered if I’d have to leave the friends I’d found. The house I’d bought. The life I’d shaped into one I could be proud of.

A loud, ominous crack shot through the house, and I shrieked, whipping around to find glass shattering onto the welcome mat.

I froze, my heart slamming against my rib cage as I stared at the jagged hole in the fragile, purple hummingbird windowpane.

Light beat through the break. Bright and sunny and yet unable to hide the violence that had splintered the beautiful window. My breath turned choppy, and a knock evoked another squeal of fear. It took me far too long to realize it had been a timid little sound. Nothing fierce or commanding. Nothing insisting I respond.

I swallowed hard and forced my feet to move back into the living room. With sweaty palms, I shifted one of the wooden shutters next to the door ever so slightly and peeked outside. Surprise stumbled in over the fear when I saw a teenager standing on the porch.

His thin shoulders were slumped, his face turned down, and his dark, dirty-blond hair shimmered with a multitude of highlights as sunrays hit it. It was the same color as his father’s. The two of them had moved into Maisey’s old childhood home next door a month ago, but instead of welcoming my new neighbors to the street, I’d avoided them at all costs. Partially because the teen’s incredibly handsome father evoked a whole host of unwanted reactions in me, and partially because of the badge the man wore on his chest.

As the boy rubbed a hand over his face and then backed away, I studied him. It wasn’t just the teenager’s hair that matched his father’s. He was a little mini-me of acting-sheriff Cooper Wylee. He had the same strong jawline, thick hair, and mesmerizing bright-blue eyes.

The teenager hesitated before moving toward the steps.

Careful to avoid the glass, I unlocked the door and pulled it open.

When he turned back toward me, panic shifted over a face sporting a black eye that was turning green.

Before I could say anything, he started spewing words in rapid succession. “I’m sorry. Shit. I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to. I was trying to hit the branch to get my hacky sack out, and it ricocheted off the tree trunk and straight into your window. I’ve never seen anything like it. I swear I wasn’t aiming at your house.”

He waved a homemade slingshot at me and pointed to the large tree branch bursting with fall colors hanging near my porch.

The boy’s gaze fell to the broken glass, and I winced. The stained glass was antique. Irreplaceable. What would it cost to fix it? All the tension of my day landed right back on my shoulders.

“Look. I can work it off. Yardwork. Taking your garbage cans to the curb on trash day. Whatever you need. Please. Please just don’t tell my dad. He’ll freak. He’ll be pissed as hell. I’m not even supposed to be home…”

His voice trailed off, eyes wide and alarmed as he massaged his bruised cheek.

The motion spiked an unexpected fury. Not at this traumatized kid sporting a black eye, but at the man he called Dad. The man everyone in town had trusted to take over as sheriff, not only because of the legendary status he’d earned last year by stopping a killer at the ranch but because of his spotless career with the LAPD.

I knew exactly what it was like to be this kid, didn’t I? To have a father who everyone saw as the golden boy. The town savior. But who really left his only daughter to be brutally assaulted—and then blamed the attack on her and her poor choices.

“Why don’t you come inside?” I offered, continuing the gentle tone I’d seen Fallon and Kurt use with the rescued horses at the ranch. “We can figure out what to do together.”

The kid’s jaw worked overtime, battling the tears I saw brewing.

He glanced up and down the street. All three of the plots of land on this end of Meadow Lane were shaped like mine, with narrow frontages that widened in the rear to stretch toward the valley as well as one of the three rivers that ran through Swift Rivers. It meant my house was nearly opposite Beckett and Maisey’s across the street, while our lots bracketed Cooper’s. We were all cozy little neighbors.

But neighbors or not, sheriff or not, I wouldn’t tolerate a man abusing his kid. I didn’t care who the hell he was.

“I’m not really supposed to go inside with strangers,” the kid said. But it didn’t sound like he was afraid or uncertain anymore. It actually sounded like he thought it was a challenge. To his dad? To the rules? I wasn’t sure, but I understood the need to rebel almost as much as I understood the alarm that had shot through him at the idea of his dad’s anger.

I opened the door wider, reining in my fury at his father and keeping my voice as emotionless as possible. “Let me get a broom.”

When I returned from the tiny laundry room near the back porch, the boy had stepped over the thrift shop welcome mat and into the house. He assessed my nearly empty living room with the eye of someone much older than him. The critical, knowing look in his eyes said he’d seen and heard and felt far more than he should have at his age.

He took the broom and dustpan from me. “I can sweep it up. I can do whatever you need. I swear. Dad forces me to work with him in his woodshop, so I’m decent with my hands. I mean, I know this glass isn’t fixable,” he rambled as he swept, “but I can do lots of other things to help out. I will. I promise. I’m good for it.”

I reached out to gently touch his arm, and he jumped. Skittish and afraid. The rage inside me boiled, nearly spilling over, and it took considerable effort to keep any of it from showing, even with my years of practice at doing just that.

“Why don’t we start with you telling me your name?”

His eyes widened again. “Oh…yeah. I guess I just expected you knew. Everyone in this dam—dang town seems to know who I am.”

I was pretty sure I had heard it, seeing as everyone in town had been talking about him and his dad, but I couldn’t recall it. The focus of all those conversations hadn’t been on the kid. At first, it had been on the senior Sheriff Wylee who’d had a heart attack in June, and then it had shifted to surprise at the famous Cooper Wylee leaving his LAPD job to accept the temporary sheriff’s position after his dad had resigned.

I stuck out my hand. “I’m Andie.”

A pink tint swept over the boy’s cheeks. He switched the broom to his other hand and shook mine. “Luca. Luca Wylee.”

His voice cracked in that way boys’ voices do as they grow.

“Well, Luca Wylee, why don’t you finish sweeping and then come on back and grab a soda while we figure out what to do from here?”

I left him to it, stalked into the kitchen, and tried to put a lid on the fury rolling through me. If I showed my anger to Luca, he’d think it was at him, and he’d withdraw when I really needed him to open up. I needed him to tell me the truth so I could pin the asshole to the wall for hurting his son.

I had two Mountain Dews and the last of my Oreos on the counter when he came into the kitchen with a full dustpan. I pointed to the garbage can in the tiny walk-in pantry, and he dumped the glass in it before setting the pan and the broom down.

“I shook the rug out too,” he said. “I really am sorry, Miss Andie.”

“Just Andie.”

I offered him a soda. He looked down at his scuffed sneakers, then back up, and gave me a small smile. It lifted higher on one side of his mouth. Just like his dad’s smile. Not that I’d seen Cooper Wylee smile often—only once, really.

“Thanks,” the teen said.

When he took it, I noticed his hands weren’t shaking anymore, and I hoped it meant he’d relaxed enough to talk. Although, it was doubtful he would tell me anything really important during our first conversation. I’d have to keep the dialogue going. Build trust.

I nearly snorted. Trust wasn’t something I was good with, but I had to try.

I sat down on one of the two barstools I’d bought at a yard sale.

Luca joined me, and I pushed the Oreo bag at him.

He smiled again. “Man…taking cookies from a stranger. Isn’t that exactly what they tell kids not to do?”

He laughed at his joke.

“I swear I’m not going to poison you or kidnap you,” I said with a smile as I crossed my heart.

“Yeah, but that’s just what someone who was going to do any of that shit would say.”

I huffed out a little laugh, both at his response and his penchant for swearing. “Probably.”

He ate a cookie and took a few sips of the soda, while he scanned the nearly empty kitchen with the same knowing eye that he’d assessed my living room.

“You’ve been living here a while, haven’t you?”

“Bought the house in February, but I’ve been in Swift Rivers for eight years, why?”

“It’s just… Your house is pretty empty.”

It was. I took a deep, slow breath and then let it out. “Well, I was sort of starting over when I moved here, and I’d been living in the staff quarters at Harrington Ranch until I bought the house, so I didn’t really have anything of my own.”

The boy’s face darkened. “Starting over is bullshit.”

“It can be. Or it can be a gift.”

He rubbed his cheek, careful of his bruised eye.

“Are you afraid of telling your dad about the window because of that?” I asked with a pointed look at his face, keeping my tone as calm as I could.

His fingers stilled. His gaze turned thoughtful. “You think Dad did this?”

I didn’t answer, waited to see if he’d offer me the truth.

“What would you do if he did?” he asked. “Call social services? Get me sent back to my mom?”

“Do you want to be sent back to your mom?”

His shoulders slumped, and he looked down at the cookie as he spun it apart to reveal the cream inside. “I miss my friends. My coach. The park.”

My heart just about burst at the sorrow in his voice. The desolation.

It sent me sailing right back to all the moments I’d felt just like that. Isolated. Hopeless.

This kid, who could hardly be more than twelve or thirteen, didn’t deserve to feel any of that. He should feel safe and happy and carefree. He should be full of so much hope that he believed he could accomplish anything and everything. He should not be trembling in fear at the idea of telling his father about one mistake.

My anger crept right back just as my doorbell rang. The chime was followed immediately by a pounding that clearly demanded an answer. And maybe if I hadn’t had rage racing through my blood, my own fear might have resurfaced.

Instead, I saw the terror on Luca’s face, and it fueled me even more.

I stormed to the door and yanked it open, fuming with disbelief at the absolute calm on the face of the most handsome man I’d ever seen in my life.

 

Chapter Two

Cooper

BACKUP PLAN

Performed by Bailey Zimmerman, Luke Combs

 

I wasn’t sure what emotion had  the upper hand as I stalked up the river rock path to my neighbor’s porch. Frustration. Disappointment. Anger. Or just pure exhaustion.

Getting the call from the middle school about Luca skipping class for the second time this week had definitely kicked my fury up a notch. We’d made a deal. A good deal. And he’d reneged…again.

What the hell was I going to do with him?

Dad might have ideas, but I wasn’t going to lay this at his feet as he tried to recover. I wouldn’t lay it at Mom’s either, because she’d feel obligated to tell Dad. Those two never kept secrets from each other. They were a team. A unit. Two parts of a loving whole that I’d once hoped to have in my life and fallen short of in the worst way.

After leaving work to hunt Luca down, walking into an empty home had woven my anger with worry—at least until I’d seen his skateboard missing. The only place in Rivers he could be was the park. It was illegal for him to skate there, but he rode the rails and benches anyway.

I had one foot back in my sheriff’s rig when my gaze was snagged by Luca’s skateboard lying on Andie Nealy’s path. No sign of Luca, but his board and helmet had been tossed aside. My kid didn’t leave his deck anywhere. Not when he’d spent nearly a year perfecting it with custom parts.

Stepping onto Andie’s porch, the first thing I saw was the broken windowpane, and my stomach fell. Damnit. Luca had already screwed things up with our neighbor. Our breathtakingly lovely neighbor.

I rang her bell and then followed it up with a knock.

When she yanked the door open and her gray eyes flashed at me with a brewing storm, my chest squeezed even tighter.

I scanned her from top to bottom, a habit I couldn’t seem to break when it came to this woman. The first time I’d met her, she’d stopped me dead, sending a shock straight through me. Something about her smooth, copper locks flashing with fiery highlights, hourglass curves, and perfect heart-shaped face was reminiscent of the Golden-Age-of-Hollywood actresses I’d spent my college years obsessing over.  

Today, like nearly every time I’d seen her, she had her burnished strands wrapped tight in a fancy bun that made her look part librarian, part seductress. The flush on her cheeks emphasized the scattering of cinnamon-like freckles that spread over a pert nose.

She had on a sleeveless teal button-down, that somehow revealed nothing and everything at the same time, and a gray skirt that clung to every curve. The professional outfit was a uniform she wore seven days a week, only swapping out the skirt for tailored dress pants on occasion.

The only out-of-the-norm thing about her today was her bare feet. I hadn’t once seen Andie without some kind of heeled dress shoe. Not the stupidly expensive ones that had filled Eden’s closet, but still fancy enough.

The sight of those naked toes, painted with a barely-there color that almost blended in with her snowy skin, did something to my chest. My stomach. My fucking groin. It felt intimate, as if I’d walked in on her undressing.

And my body liked that too damn much.

I didn’t have time for attraction. Or sex. Or anything when it came to women. And certainly not with a neighbor I couldn’t leave in a hotel room with a thanks for the good time and a see you again…never.

“Sheriff.” The way Andie carved disgust into that single word crawled up my spine like a specter breathing down my neck. Hadn’t I heard that same tone one too many times from my ex? Except, her scathing name for me had been “Lawman.”

“Miss Nealy,” I acknowledged, gritting my teeth to keep from reacting. I nodded my head toward the skateboard lying on her walk and then directed my gaze at the broken glass. “I see Luca is here.”

Pushing into my space, she slammed the door behind her, and I had to take a step back to keep our bodies from colliding. The air between us snapped and crackled in a way that was unhealthy for me…and for her.

When she stabbed me in the chest with a delicate finger, slightly crooked from what must have been a long-ago break, the electricity zapped me all the way to the bone.

“I don’t care who you are, who you know, or what kind of badge you wear. I will absolutely be calling child protective services and letting them know what happened. Do you understand me?”

Each word she spoke was coated with barely contained rage and disgust.

My mind reeled, trying to catch up. “Because of a broken window? I’ll pay for it. I’ll even install it—”

“You seriously think I care about some broken glass?” she stormed.

Her tone and the absolute look of repugnance in her gaze retriggered memories of Eden using the same tone. My already taut emotions, strained by worry over Luca’s rebellion, cracked a bit more, and I found myself stepping forward and eliminating the space I’d just given her.

The way my body flared at the brush of our hands and arms amped up my irritation another notch until my anger matched hers. Except, mine was all self-directed. Not only for losing my cool when I rarely did but at my libido for not giving two shits about what it had done to my heart and soul the last time I’d had this same reaction to a woman.

“Look, lady, I’m sorry he broke your window. He’s adjusting to some pretty serious changes in his life. I’ve apologized, even if he hasn’t. Now open the door and give me my son.”

She used both hands to shove me, but I didn’t budge. And when I looked into those large eyes and saw a similar mix of fury and attraction sizzling in them, it did nothing to help my situation.

“I know the signs, Sheriff.” Her scathing tone deepened. “I know them like the back of my hand. I won’t stand by and let you abuse him.”

My mouth literally dropped open. All the anger, all the attraction, washed completely away as realization hit me dead center.

“You think I did that to Luca? That I gave him the black eye?”

Taking in my stunned reaction, her anger faltered. In its place, an emotionless mask emerged.

“Did Luca actually tell you I hit him?”

She scoffed, “We’ve had one brief conversation. Abused kids don’t open up to strangers after exchanging a few sentences. But I know real fear when I see it. Just saying your name scared him.”

Pained knowledge carved through her words, experience backed with anguish she didn’t show in her face but I glimpsed in her eyes anyway.

Fuck. I should have run a background check on all my neighbors here just as I had in LA. But this was Swift Rivers. I hadn’t thought I needed to, which was stupid, considering I’d had a hand in stopping violence and mayhem here just over a year ago.

The front door opened, and I had to grab her elbow to prevent her from falling backward into my son. The touch scorched me, burning up my arm and all the way to my heart.

Luca’s eyes bounced from me to Andie and back. I easily read the series of expressions that coursed over my son’s face. Chagrin. A hint of fear. And then something worse. A slyness that usually preceded something coming from his mouth that was sure to both put me in my place and take advantage of the situation.

“Please don’t be mad at Andie, Dad. She didn’t do anything. She was just being nice.”

Instead of letting my son out the door, Andie spread her arms wide, palms on opposite doorjambs, blocking the path. “If you’re afraid to go home with him, Luca, you can stay here. I’ll call for help.”

I dragged a hand over my face and blew out an exasperated breath. “I haven’t laid a hand on Luca. Not even when he knew he deserved it. Why don’t you tell Ms. Nealy how you actually got that shiner?”

Andie turned her head, and she caught the sheepish look on Luca’s face before he could hide it.

“Wait. What?”

Luca tucked his hands into his pockets, shoulders slanting forward. I hated that look almost as much as I hated his rebellion. I didn’t want him to feel like the weight of the world had landed on his shoulders. I just wanted him to be a kid. Wild and free and learning new tricks on his board.

I tossed a thumb over my shoulder to the skateboard. “He was riding the rails outside City Hall and crashed face-first into a post. Cameras caught it all. I’d be happy to let you watch it if you don’t believe me.”

Neither Luca nor Andie said anything, so I continued. “He was supposed to be at school that day too, instead of skipping class yet again.”

Andie turned and leaned against the open door so she could dart a confused frown at Luca.

I looked straight into my son’s mutinous eyes and sighed. “Pick up your gear and head home. We’ll talk about how you reneged on our deal when I get there.”

Luca brushed by Andie, muttering his excuses before scurrying down the walk, swooping down to pick up his board and helmet, and then jogging toward our porch.

I crossed my arms over my chest and widened my stance. The cop in me came out as I asked, “How’d he break the window?”

She rubbed her twisted finger as if it ached. “A slingshot?” She glanced up to the branch above the porch, where I caught sight of Luca’s hacky sack nestled in the leaves. “He said he was trying to retrieve that.”

“I’ll get a ladder and get it out of your way. And we’ll pay for the damage. If you get the pane ordered, he and I can repair it.”

“You have experience replacing antique windows in hundred-year-old doors?” she asked dryly.

“I have experience building a lot of things. I won’t screw it up. And it’ll be good for Luca to have a hand in repairing it.”

She didn’t respond, just stared at me, and I couldn’t help the irritation that rose. She’d made assumptions about me. Fine, I could do the same. She was likely just another fancy-assed woman looking down on people who worked with their hands. And yet, if that was the case, why the hell would she be working at Harrington Ranch, surrounded by people whose jobs were all sorts of manual labor, from housekeepers to ranch hands?

I shook my head. It didn’t matter. She didn’t matter.

I’d promised myself years ago that I wouldn’t waste my time with people who looked down on me, my hobbies, or my family.

I jogged down her steps and made the mistake of looking back over my shoulder.

The sun shimmered through the red and gold leaves of the large black oak, and the light hit her hair, highlighting the same fiery colors of the leaves.

Damn, she was beautiful. Maybe even more beautiful than I’d thought Eden was the first time I’d met her in person.

These days, all that beauty was a turn-off.

I’d had my fill of it. My kid had had his fill of it.

Experience told me the external shell rarely matched what was inside. In fact, beauty was good at hiding darkness.

I was halfway down her walk when I tossed back, “Give me a call when you get the glass in.”

I didn’t wait for her response. Didn’t wait to see if she’d apologize for jumping to the wrong conclusion about my son and me.

It scalded me that she thought I’d laid a hand on him—the boy I loved with my entire damn soul. The child I loved so much I’d given up my career and the captain’s role I’d been offered to return to the tiny town I’d been raised in, all in hopes of somehow giving him back his childhood. Hoping I could free the sweet baby I’d rocked to sleep from the layers of sullen, sneaky teenager he'd cloaked himself in. Luca was my world. My entire reason for breathing most days. I’d cut off a hand to keep him from being hurt ever again.

But what could I do when he was the one hurting himself these days?

I stalked to the sheriff’s SUV I’d driven home, grabbed Luca’s backpack that he’d left at school, and mounted my porch steps.

As I went to open the door, my mind flashed to the moment when Andie had opened hers. Those stormy eyes, the way she’d pounded her finger into my chest. Just knowing she’d been prepared to defend my son, a boy she’d scarcely met and who’d shattered her window, was the exact opposite of a turn-off.

She’d looked like an avenging angel. A fervent defender of the innocent.

But for all I knew, she was a criminal. I’d seen hundreds of people in an interview room wearing similar righteous indignation, only to come up with hard evidence of their guilt.

When I shut our front door with enough force to rattle the windows, Luca startled from his spot on the couch where he’d settled with the TV remote.

“You’re pretty funny if you think you’ll be watching television anytime in the next decade,” I grunted.

He tossed the remote onto the square coffee table, adding another scratch to the already dinged and dented surface. Each scratch told a story of Luca’s childhood—days spent banging on it with a variety of toys. Marks that brought back happy memories.

The modern, angular table didn’t fit in our cottage-like home any better than the rest of the furniture I’d built in my woodshop back in LA. But it would do for now, until I had the time to make something new. Something that fit the elegant woodwork of the Craftsman house.

Luca crossed his arms over his chest. “So what’s the verdict, Jailor? Solitary confinement?”

“For Pete’s sake, Luca.” I scrubbed my hand over my face. “You let her think I hit you. After you broke an antique window that’s likely going to cost hundreds, if not thousands, of dollars to replace.”

Regret flickered for half a second before defiance took over. “I offered to work it off. And if you’d let me use the money Mom gave me, I could just pay for it.”

A tiny sliver of hope wafted through me. At least he’d tried to make amends, but instead of opening myself up to yet another discussion about the size of my son’s bank account, I headed that off with a reminder of what else he’d done today.

“You skipped class. Again. Why would you renege on our deal?” I asked quietly.

“Fucking P.E. I get a better workout on my board than kicking some damn ball in a circle on the blacktop.”

“We’ve had multiple discussions about your cussing.”

He rolled his eyes. “As if you don’t cuss.”

“And as I’ve said before, I’m an adult. But I also told you I’d stop swearing too. It was part of our agreement.”

“It was a shi—stupid agreement. Just like that class is stupid.”

“What really happened today, Luc? What sent you running? You wanted the half-pipe I agreed to build in the backyard if you could get through one month without skipping.”

When he didn’t answer, I crossed the living room and sat in the armchair facing him. “Principal Garrett said there was an altercation at lunch. Was that why you left?”

Luca let out a noise that was half laugh, half disdain.

We sat there in silence. While I was good at waiting out suspects, staring them down for nearly an hour to make them talk, my son usually beat me at my own game. I broke first.

“Help me understand what’s going on in that thick head of yours. Talk to me.”

Luca stood up, dug in his back pocket, and came out with his phone. I already had it locked down, no internet, no fun apps. He had the ability to call or text his grandparents and me, and that was it. It also had the Find Family app installed, so I could locate him if he kept the damn thing turned on.

He tossed the phone on the coffee table, and I tried not to wince at the sound, hoping it wasn’t as broken as Andie’s window.

“I know the drill. No television. No Xbox. No internet. No anything.” He sulked toward the hall. “You plan on taking my comic books away too? Or can I keep those?”

Part of me wanted to push him. To somehow bust through the wall he’d installed between us. But the other part of me knew I had to let him take it down when he was ready.

“Homework,” I said, pointing to the backpack I’d dropped at the door. “That’s what you need to do right now. And a nice long letter to Principal Garrett and Mr. Schneider, apologizing for ditching class again.”

He muttered something under his breath, but he still picked up the backpack before stalking down the hall.

When his bedroom door slammed shut, I leaned back, resting my head on the cushions, staring at the ceiling. What the hell was I going to do now?

 

Chapter Three

Andie

ME

Performed by Kelly Clarkson

 

Fall might have officially arrived last week, and the trees might be wearing their autumn foliage, but it still felt like summer in the Sierra foothills as I galloped Queen Elizabeth up a steep slope. At the crest, I pulled her to a stop, both of us breathing hard.

The magnificence of the view helped shake loose the last dregs of the nightmare that had woken me this morning. The Harrington Ranch spread below me, traveling from the snow-tipped mountains and fall-speckled forests down to the meadows and farmland. Rows of carefully tended crops were splintered by the three rivers crisscrossing the property before dropping into Crystal Lake.

The roan and I watched as the rising sun turned the clouds into feathery sweeps of cotton candy and sent pixie-dust-like sparkles over the lake’s glassy surface. It was a similar sunrise to the one I’d watched the day I’d first arrived here, applying for a job I wasn’t sure I was qualified to get. But the ranch’s quirky mix of English manor, California farm, Sierra lodge, and Vegas casino had wormed its way into my heart and made me determined to prove I’d do whatever it took to help the place thrive. I was damn proud of having done just that.

I stroked Q.E.’s silky coat. While the horse wasn’t mine, she was the first one I’d ever truly loved. She’d been a rescue, coming to us malnourished and afraid of raised hands, but now she practically glowed, spirit all but pouring from her.

“Let’s go, girl,” I murmured, steering her gently back toward the hotel and outbuildings.

My heart caught, as it always did, once I crested another hill and brought the Victorian Gothic Revival castle the Harrington ancestors had built in the 1930s into eyesight. The curls and flourishes along the golden gables and towers gleamed with an elegant strength mirrored in the iconic, animated centaur fountain in the circular drive.

Q.E. and I headed for the barn, which was already bustling with activity as guides prepped for the morning excursions. Not a hint of the fire that had threatened to take down the entire building over a year ago remained. We’d rebuilt fast and efficiently. Just like we’d replaced the single cabin, that had burned down several years ago, with three gorgeous ones down by the river’s edge which were now some of our most requested reservations.

Chuck hurried over to me, grabbing the saddle as I lifted it off Q.E.’s back. He was one of the youngest guides at the ranch—another of the ranch’s rescues. When he insisted on rubbing the horse down for me, I gave the roan a sugar cube that she nuzzled from my palm and then strode out of the barn toward the back door of the castle.

I slipped into the locker room in the old servant quarters, stripped off the jeans and boots I’d worn for the ride, bundled my hair under a shower cap, and stepped into the steady stream. I was determined to let the hot water work out the last remaining remnants of the nightmare. But as I lathered the hotel’s exclusive soaps over my body, the scars—and the memories they carried—fought me.

I wasn’t sure what had triggered the vicious dream. Maybe it had been the call from Dawson last week that had turned out to be nothing more than his usual check-in. Or maybe it had been the combination of his call and my run-in with Cooper Wylee over Luca. But more likely, it was the half-dozen messages the sheriff had left since then, demanding I respond to him.

The calls had felt…overwhelming and borderline obsessive. Or perhaps it was just me projecting the horror of the last man I’d thought was movie-star perfect onto the sheriff.

The wild pulse of attraction I felt when Cooper was around was just another reminder that my instincts weren’t to be trusted when it came to men. Even if he’d denied hitting his son, and Luca’s sheepishness had backed him up, the fear I’d seen in the boy’s eyes had been all too familiar.

I shook my head. Let it go. That was what I needed to do.

I dressed quickly in black slacks, a white shirt, and red peep-toe heels before covering the freckles and faint scars on my face with light makeup. I shoved my riding clothes in the bag I’d brought with me and strode down the corridor to my office, surprised to find Fallon and Olivia already there.

My boss had a tablet in one hand while she tugged at her blond hair, twined in an intricate fishtail braid, with the other. Fallon wore jeans, a plaid shirt, and ancient cowboy boots. It was a uniform she rarely deviated from. No one meeting her for the first time would ever expect the twenty-seven-year-old to be an heiress to not only the Harrington estate but also a portion of her father’s global hospitality business.

Her sharp, hazel eyes scanned me as I came in, and I apologized for being late.

“You’re not late. I’m early, so I asked Olivia to take me through the winter ads.” She handed the tablet back to our tiny, dark-haired PR manager. “They look good. I love the idea of tying in our winter festivities with the Golden Hero charity event and the tree lighting downtown.”

Olivia flushed with pleasure. “Thanks.”

“I told you she’d like it,” I told Olivia. “You’ve really done an incredible job with the communication about our events this year. Are you sure you don’t want to try your hand at the events coordinator position?”

She shook her head. “I’m sure. I’m not ready to put in the wild hours the job requires. I like getting home at a decent hour to the hubster and our baby.”

An unexpected ache ran through me. Olivia’s baby was a year old, and Fallon had a seven-year-old she and her husband had adopted, a two-and-a-half-year-old, and a five-month-old baby. Once upon a time, I’d thought I’d have at least three children. Maybe four. Now I’d never have kids.

Olivia gathered her things and headed for the door. “I’ll get to work on the ads and the flyers. Good luck with the interviews today, Andie.”

Fallon sat on the arm of one of the wingback chairs, like a hawk, perching momentarily on a branch, ready to take off on the next breeze. I wasn’t sure she ever really stopped. When she’d returned from college three years ago, I’d been worried she’d see me as redundant and take over the role as both the resort’s manager and event coordinator that her mother had slowly handed over to me. But instead, we’d found a way to balance each other out.

“Are you joining me for the interviews?” I asked.

She grimaced. “No, I’ll let you narrow it down. Once you have someone you like, I can meet with them and give you my two cents.” She studied me with eyes that always saw too much, similar to Luca Wylee’s eyes last week. “Are you okay?”

Sometimes, that look she gave me, coupled with the troubles Fallon had experienced in her own life, tempted me to tell her the truth. To open up to a friend. But those moments were brief and easily squashed.

“Of course. I’m just running through interview questions in my head.”

“I feel like we haven’t had as much time together this year. With you absorbed in the new house and me absorbed with the baby, we’ve been going in different directions. It’s time you, me, and Maisey have a girls’ night.”

The forced smile became real. “I’d really love that.”

When she nodded and strode out, the room felt quiet and still.

I turned my attention to my work, clicking through emails and reviewing interview questions, until Michelle from the front desk buzzed me to say the first applicant had arrived.

The mansion’s grand entrance still had the ability to take my breath away whenever I walked into it. With its dark paneling, embossed copper-tile ceiling, chandelier dripping with crystals, and sweeping red-carpeted staircase, it reminded me of that iconic scene in Gone with the Wind at Rhett’s mansion. Scarlett might not have gotten her man, but she’d had Tara. I might not own a single piece of the Harrington Ranch, but it still felt like I’d made it mine.

In the reception area, with its hand-carved mahogany desk, English manor furniture, and fresh flowers, the first applicant sat, nervously tapping a foot. I greeted her and led the way to the staff conference room, where its centuries-old table and chairs were more reminders of the importance of my task. The ranch had a legacy that I was helping to preserve, and whoever took the events coordinator position needed to understand and honor it as well.

I looked across the table to where narrow brown eyes watched me. For a brief second, panic flared, bringing with it a sensation that made no sense—the feeling of being under a microscope that I’d lived with every day during those last few months before Eddie’s death.

It had to be the nightmare still playing tricks on me, because this woman was nothing like Eddie’s sister, Marla.

Misty Lane was intensely lean and toned, whereas Marla had been soft, round, and extremely overweight. Misty wore a classy emerald-green shift dress, whereas Marla had always worn ragged men’s sweats. And Misty’s slick midnight-black hair, pulled back in a classic chignon, was a far cry from Marla’s messy brown curls.

And yet, I still felt unsettled. I flicked open her file, scanning it in an attempt to center myself.

Misty was forty years old, from the East Coast, and a recent transplant to California. She had an impressive résumé and an almost lyrical voice instilled with self-assurance.

After a few cursory questions that seemed to ease us both, I asked, “What brings you to Swift Rivers, Misty?”

“Family.”

“Oh, does your family live here?” I flipped through the file, looking for an address or a name in town that I’d recognize.

When I looked up, a flicker crossed her face that had something tugging at me again before it was wiped away by her smile. “My aunt is looking to relocate too. We both needed a change after too many years in the big city. We love to hike and snowboard and wanted a location where we could do both. When I saw your job listing, it felt like kismet.”

“What’s your backup plan if we don’t hire you?”

Her smile grew. “You will.”

While her confidence might have been off-putting to others, it reminded me of Fallon. Brash and strong, going for what she wanted. I could imagine they’d get along well.

I smiled back and said, “So tell me why I should.”

And she did. It wasn’t just the things I could read for myself in her résumé. It was clear she knew events, especially weddings, which would be the largest part of her job here. She’d handled celebrity events in the past and had a keen eye for color and style in the portfolio she showed me.

She teased and joked her way through the interview. Calm and mild, even in this stressful situation. As much as I tried to hold back, I found myself liking her and wanting to offer her the job, regardless of the four other applicants I had scheduled.

By the time I was walking her out front, we were bonding over celebrity mishaps and grooms caught in bed with members of the wedding party.

At the mammoth, carved double doors, I shook her hand.

“I’ve got four more applicants to see today, Misty, but I’ll be honest and say that you’ve set the bar impossibly high for them.”

Her eyes sparkled. “I’m glad. I can see us doing unforgettable things here.”

And even after an entire day spent interviewing people, it was Misty’s words that stuck with me, just as it was her confidence that I liked most.

It had taken me years to get my confidence back after it had been ripped away, and I’d sworn I’d never lose it again.

Not for a man or a job. Not for anything.

So, when I picked up the phone to call Fallon, I knew I’d go to bat for Misty, no matter what my boss thought, but I was hoping she’d see the same good things in the woman as I had.

 

Chapter Four

Cooper

HARD DAYS

Performed by Brantley Gilbert

 

I leaned back in the old leather chair, which was worn down in a way that didn’t quite fit. The grooves and valleys had been formed by my father’s body. His chair. His office. His team.

And yet, here I was, trying to fill it.

I dragged a hand over my face and felt the scruff I should have shaved off this morning and hadn’t for no good reason other than pure exhaustion.

My team and I had spent the night raiding a cabin up in the mountains, rounding up several pounds of meth, but left with no arrests. Someone had tipped them off. I might have spent the majority of my detective years on personal crimes and homicide rather than vice, but I knew a tip-off when I saw one. We’d been close to capturing someone. The goddamn pizza had been warm, for Pete’s sake, but there’d been no car. No trace of anyone in the woods.

I’d left Sandy and a couple of crime scene investigators we’d borrowed from a neighboring county sifting through the evidence. Sandy hadn’t been happy with my decision. She’d sworn it would take her time, but she could get through it without someone else traipsing all over her damn crime scene. But it would have taken her days, and I had a feeling we didn’t have that to give.

When Carter Smythe had been shot dead a year ago, after he and his partner had used similar drugs to wreak havoc on Maisey Campbell, Dad hadn’t been able to question him on where he’d gotten his supply. According to my father, after Carter’s death, the drugs had gone underground, but they’d come back with a vengeance since I’d taken over. A horrible mix of methamphetamine and heroin had led to two overdoses in the last month. Kids. Fucking teenagers.

My stomach twisted in knots, thinking of Luca. Not only because he was at risk, an easy target for whoever was doing this, but because I’d caught him giving away drugs he’d found at his mother’s house after trying them himself.

Marijuana. Nothing like what was here, I reminded myself.

This had nothing to do with Luca, and yet it still ate at me. The fact he’d smoked a joint while unsupervised at his mom’s. That his mother had been so careless to let her cronies leave drugs lying around where Luca and his friends could find them. Thankfully, it hadn’t been his tween friends he’d tried to give the joints to, but a group of college students he’d been trying to impress at the skate park. But the entire incident had just been more proof that I’d failed him.

He’d sworn it was his first and only time, and he hadn’t been using regularly. I’d made him take a drug test, and it had been a relief to have only THC show up and nothing else, seeing as drugs that flew through his mother’s home had been varied and prolific.

The only positive to the entire incident was that it had put the final strike against Eden and allowed me to finally win full custody of my son. Unfortunately, it was also why Luca hated my guts at the moment. Hated me enough to let some tall, gray-eyed piece of havoc think I’d abused him. A stunning beauty who still hadn’t responded to my calls about her broken window.

Maybe she hadn’t felt comfortable returning a call to my personal phone. Maybe she’d left a message here at the station, and I’d lost the note in the chaos of the paperwork on my desk.

I leaned forward, picked up the receiver, and buzzed Suzanne at the front.

“Sheriff,” she greeted sweetly, and I cringed internally.

Blond, curvaceous, and smart, Suzanne may have been six years older than me, but she’d made it clear, on my first day, exactly what she thought it meant that we’d both wound up divorced and in Rivers at the same time.

“Andie Nealy didn’t happen to leave me a message, did she?” I asked.

“Andie?” Surprise filtered through her voice, and I heard the hint of disappointment as she said, “No. She did not.” A pause. “Is this something about your house? With you being neighbors and all now?”

Jesus. The last thing I needed was more talk about Luca if it came out he’d busted our neighbor’s window. “Just let me know if she calls please.”

I cut off whatever she was going to say and turned my attention back to the whiteboard I’d hung to use as a case board. It covered up the frames holding my father’s awards and photos of him with important folks throughout the state. Dad had said he and Mom would come by to clean out the office, but I think he was as reluctant to end his thirty years of service as I was to pick up his mantle.

Once I’d left Swift Rivers at eighteen years old, I’d never imagined returning here to live. I certainly never thought I’d be stepping into my father’s shoes. I’d wanted to be a detective for as long as I could remember, but I hadn’t wanted the small-town sheriff hat Dad had chosen. I’d wanted the big-city pace and sitting in a stuffed bullpen with twenty other cops all trying to do the same thing—get justice for those who couldn’t get it for themselves.

Now I had two Rivers kids and their families who needed justice. One of the kids had died, and one would live with permanent repercussions from their OD. I was working the case the same way I’d worked any other homicide—lining up the people, alibis, and clues until the threads tied them together. I’d get answers and an arrest, just as my partner and I had with our almost-unheard-of case-close rate back in LA.

A tap at the door was followed by Deputy Sheriff Josh Cleaver’s face appearing around the door. “Can I come in?”

I gave him a curt nod. He strolled in, shoved his hands in his pockets, and stared at the case board as I assessed him. He was fit, in a lightweight-boxer kind of way. His brown hair was the bland kind that few witnesses would ever be able to describe, and he had light-brown eyes with ears that stood out just a touch too far. Nearly a decade and a half younger than my forty-two, he’d gotten stuck with the unfortunate nickname of Beaver because of the overbite he’d had as a kid that was now just a distant memory.

Dad had twelve deputies working for him, plus Suzanne at the front desk, Harold as bailiff in the courtroom, and Sandy, who handled the crime scene work. The entire staff, aside from Harold and Sandy, was fairly junior, which was why the county board of supervisors had looked outside the department for someone to fill the three and a half years remaining on Dad’s term.

Except, I didn’t know shit about running an entire sheriff’s office and had no interest in playing politics. In LA, I may have been offered a captain’s shield, but I had no interest in moving up the chain of command from there. I wanted to stay close to the action.

Now I had my hands full with a bit of all of it.

“What can I do for you, Deputy?” I asked.

While my father had been grooming Cleaver for more responsibility, stating he’d seen potential in the kid, I hadn’t had enough time to validate it. What I did know was that Carter Smythe was Cleaver’s cousin, and Cleaver’s brother wasn’t exactly known around town for his pristine image. Randy had a couple of possession charges on his record and an arrest in Fresno for dealing, which had landed him a short stint in a county lockup.

With family ties like that, what did it mean for Josh Cleaver? Would he tip his brother off to keep him from being arrested again?

Cleaver stared at the board with me, and his jaw worked overtime. “I know what you’re thinking, Sheriff.”

I raised a brow but didn’t say anything.

After probably an entire minute had gone by, Cleaver shifted, crossing his arms over his chest. A defensive move. His eyes were as defiant as my son’s these days.

“It wasn’t me. I didn’t tip anyone off.”

I didn’t say anything, and Cleaver’s brows furrowed. “Randy and I have never gotten along. Not growing up. Not as adults. I’d almost go so far as to say I hate the guy, if I wasn’t afraid it would give Mom a coronary. If he’s behind this, I want nothing more than to bring him down.”

The words carried a force to them—a strength of truth.

An idea started to form, one I wouldn’t have hesitated to put in place if I knew all the players well enough. Dad trusted this man, and I believed in my father’s instincts, but if I suggested this plan to Cleaver, and he botched it, we’d have an answer soon enough.

“Does your brother know you hate him?” I asked.

Cleaver’s mouth thinned. “He knows there’s no love lost.”

“You think you could change that?”

For the first time since walking into the office, Cleaver seemed to be taken by surprise.

“What?”

I waved at the board, “Regardless of whether your brother is involved in this, we need an inside track to the dark side of Swift Rivers. The gossip in this town is fierce enough that I’m not sure we’d be able to keep an informant a secret.”

“My walking into his apartment with my badge on isn’t going to help us either.”

I rubbed my jaw again. “What if we use the local blabbermouths to our advantage? You know, put on a bit of a show. What if I pretend to fire you for your family ties, and you turn to your brother, looking for revenge?”

Cleaver’s eyes turned steely. “It’s what you’d like to do anyway, right? Get rid of the weak link. The deputy tied to the trash you’re trying to bring down.”

I wasn’t going to feed him a line of shit and tell him I hadn’t had my doubts—still had my doubts. Instead, I said, “Seems like this would be a damn good way to prove to me and everyone else which side you’re really on.”

“By pretending to be on the wrong side.” The entire idea infuriated him. His face was squinty, his shoulders stiff, and his eyes were flashing.

While it reassured me, it didn’t alleviate all my concerns.

“You don’t need to make a decision today,” I said. “Think about it.”

The phone buzzed, and Suzanne’s voice came over the speaker. “Luca’s here, Sheriff. You want me to send him back?”

I leaned over and pressed the intercom button. “Yeah. Send him back.”

I assessed Cleaver again as he took in all the images and facts I’d lined up on the whiteboard.

“It’s going to keep happening.” Cleaver was talking to himself more than to me, so I just let him ramble. “More kids are going to OD on this nasty new combination, and whoever sold it to those kids is more than likely the person who sold the drugs that were used on Maisey and her dad.” He was quiet for a beat. “I do need to give it some thought, Sheriff, but not because I don’t want to do it, or because I’m afraid Randy is involved somehow, but because I’m not sure how it would work. I’m not sure he’d believe me after nearly thirty years of me playing by the rules. So there needs to be some careful planning before we jump that way.”

The door to the office flung open with a force that caused the black print on the bottle-glass window that still read Sheriff Dale Wylee to shake. It smacked into the ugly plaid love seat that had been in the office for as long as I could remember.

Luca blew in, skateboard under one arm, backpack dangling from his shoulder, and helmet twirling around on a finger. It was still warm out this week, although a storm was due tomorrow, and yet my kid was wearing a sweatshirt, hood up, and a layer of scruffy hair, two months past needing a cut, sticking out from the edges.

When I’d suggested a local barber, he’d scoffed and said Dominique would kill him if he let anyone touch his hair. And all I’d been able to hear was Eden’s voice spewing from my son’s lips. It had pissed me off so much that I’d handled the situation wrong. I’d told him it was a fat chance in hell I was driving back to LA just so he could get a haircut, so he’d better find someone local or not bother getting it cut at all.

He'd accepted my challenge.

“Dad! Lady Hitler out there wouldn’t let me bring Akela in,” Luca declared.

For the first time in what felt like a year, my son’s eyes held an excited light. Damn. He’d actually made a friend, and Suzanne had refused to let him bring them back?

I stood, crossing the room and putting a hand on his shoulder. “Come on, let’s go get him.”

Luca’s eyes lit up, and he raced down the hall in front of me as my chest almost exploded with hope. Maybe we’d turn the tide. Maybe this would be the moment everything shifted.

I looked back at Cleaver as I headed out the door. “I don’t want to pressure you. You’re right that you need to consider it, but we can’t wait too long either.” My eyes shot to the whiteboard and back to him.

Cleaver gave me a curt nod. “I understand.”

I left him staring at the board while I followed my son out the door into the station’s core.

Swift Rivers was the county seat of the second-smallest county in California, and as such, the town’s government buildings were shared by both county and city officials. The sheriff’s department had been grafted onto the back of the red-brick city hall building almost as an afterthought. We had our own entrance, a bullpen, my office, a tiny break room, and two jail cells all to ourselves, but we didn’t even have any interrogation rooms. To question perps, we had to use my office or step through century-old, massive wooden doors and use conference rooms in the courthouse wing.

Suzanne sat behind the only addition to happen in the last twenty years—a bullet-proof glass partition. She served as both dispatcher and administrative assistant during the day. It was a power position that suited her—one she was clearly unhappy to have challenged by my son.

“Dad said I can bring him in,” Luca insisted.

The bright-red lipstick Suzanne wore only accentuated her pursed-lipped displeasure. “You are not bringing that thing into my clean office.”

That was my first clue that something was amiss with Luca’s friend.

“He’s the sheriff. You can’t tell him what to do,” Luca tossed back.

“I don’t care if he’s the sheriff, the governor, or emperor of the world. That mongrel is not stepping foot into this clean facility.”

“Luca,” I warned because I could see he was about to blow a gasket. “Let’s just take a step outside and talk about this for a minute.”

Luca’s joy deflated. He kicked his foot on the corner of Suzanne’s desk and then slammed his way out the doors.

As I followed him, Suzanne uttered something under her breath I was certain I should react to but chose to ignore. One drama at a time was about all I could deal with when I’d been living on caffeine and zero sleep for the last thirty hours.

As I stepped outside, a stiff breeze hit me, bringing in the scent of pine from the mountains. The last summer heat wave seemed to have broken, with dark clouds rolling in over the peaks, arriving here before night fell.

“Over here,” Luca said dejectedly. And it killed me that the moment of high I’d seen was already gone, but when I turned around to the bike racks, I understood why.

Tied to the rack by a rope was a skinny, muddy mess of an animal. The oversized dog had a gangliness to it that said it wasn’t done growing, and it was hard to tell if it was white or gray with the layer of dirt covering it. What I could see clearly was the way the malnourished mutt was looking at my son with stars in its eyes.

Fuck.

But there was no way I could take this on, regardless of Luca’s excitement. Between my schedule and Luca’s mood swings and minuscule attention span, the dog would never get what it needed from us.

“Where’d you find the dog, Luc?” I asked.

“Some shitheads were tossing rocks at him down by the river behind the school.”

My throat bobbed. He’d done the right thing.

“I’m proud of you for sticking up for him. But now we need to take him to the shelter. They’ll take care of him, search for anyone who might be missing him, and then find him a good home.”

“No! He’s mine, Dad,” Luca insisted, standing next to the dog and putting a hand on the furball’s head. “I saved his life, so I’m responsible for him.”

For what felt like the millionth time in the last hour, I dragged a hand over my face.

“A dog is a big responsibility, Luca, and you haven’t exactly been a pillar of trust these days. If you hadn’t been cutting class, undermining everything I told you to do, and shirking your chores, I’d consider it. But you haven’t done one thing to prove you're responsible enough to handle a dog.”

“I swear, Dad, if you let me keep Akela, you won’t have to do one thing to care for him. I’ll do it all. And I can pay for whatever he needs using the money Mom gave me.”

I wanted to give in. Let him have the damn dog. Maybe it would be good for him. Maybe it was exactly what he needed, responsibility for something other than himself. But another part of me knew this was not going to end well. That it was going to end with tears and me being the bad guy once again.

“Tell you what. We’ll take him home, clean him up, and then I’ll call the animal shelter, ask Sheila what she knows about a lost dog with his description.” Luca’s face lit back up, and I hated diminishing it, but I had to set some rules. “I’m not promising to keep him, Luca. I’m promising to make sure a malnourished animal gets care and finds a home.”

“But if they can’t find his owner, and I prove to you I can take care of him, you’ll consider it?”

“Let’s take it a day at a time for now.”

“I promise I can do this!”

“Leave your board with me and walk him home. I’ll grab some dog food and meet you there. We’ll get him cleaned up and see what’s what.”

Luca flung himself into my arms, and the shock of it, after him holding me at a distance for so long, stunned me. I’d barely had time to squeeze his skinny body back, barely had time to catch a hint of sweat and grass and boy that was all Luca, when he stepped away.

And all I could think was that I was screwed. I’d just added one more responsibility to a pile that was already tipping over. But I’d do just about anything if I could keep the smile on Luca’s face as he walked down the street with a mangy pup beside him. The dog wagged its tail, looking at my kid as if he’d hung the moon.

I perfectly understood the feeling.

 

Chapter Five

Andie

LET IT BURN

Performed by Shaboozey

 

Thankfully, the storm that had swept through Swift Rivers the day before had blown over the mountains just before Maisey and Beckett’s wedding rehearsal last night. But it had meant a last-minute scramble today. We dried chairs and rails and laid extra runners so wet earth wouldn’t cling to guests’ shoes or, worse, Maisey’s gown, but everything was ready well before go time.

I was grateful Misty had been ready to come on board so quickly and jumped right into the thick of things. She worked alongside the staff and me like she’d been part of the team for years, learning names and catching on to our rhythm while we were in the middle of the typical wedding day chaos. By the time I slipped into my bridesmaid’s dress, I actually found myself looking forward to the ceremony instead of worrying about what might still go wrong.

The wedding at the waterfall unfolded as softly as the leaves drifting around us. Autumn branches arched over Maisey and Beckett, the copper and gold leaves framing her dark hair and sage-green eyes. When she stepped onto the runner, her gaze locked on Beckett’s, and her smile was bright enough to make my chest ache. Sunlight caught the beads scattered across the halter of her dress and sent sparks of light into the air, while organza and chiffon whispered across the forest floor behind her.

The love she looked at Beckett with almost felt tangible.

The gaze he sent in return was equally fierce. He’d chosen to wear a tuxedo instead of his firefighter Class As, and the dark jacket cut across his broad shoulders while the vest echoed the forest, drawing warmth from his brown eyes.

As I stood beside Fallon, listening to their vows, my chest tightened.

I was full of joy for them, but the quiet ache of dreams I’d once believed would come true for me were layered below it. The kind of dreams where you think love could actually be safe.

When the photographer finally finished with the wedding party, I jumped into a golf cart and sped toward the riverside marquee near the hotel to make sure everything was ready for the bride and groom. I was thrilled to find Misty had already ensured everything was ready.

“Just enjoy the party,” Misty assured me. “I got this.”

For the first time in eight years, I did just that. I sat at the tables as a guest. I laughed, and ate, and even danced with Maisey’s and Beckett’s dads, as well as Sweeney, one of Parker’s former SEAL teammates who’d gone into business with him at the jump school outside town.

But when raised voices threatened the pleasantness of the day, I hurried to the tent doors to find Josh Cleaver and Cooper going at each other. A few of the guests who’d wandered outside, either for the restrooms or just a stroll down by the river, were glancing surreptitiously their way.

“I refuse to be treated like I’m a criminal,” Josh said, glaring at Cooper.

“And I refuse to keep a man on my team who doesn’t have an alibi for the night of the raid,” Cooper’s voice, deep and dark, snarled back.

“Fuck you. I shouldn’t have to give you an alibi. I’m the one who’s proven himself in this department. Not you with your Hollywood good looks and your high-handed manner. I don’t plan on falling to my knees and worshipping you like the rest of the damn town. You want someone to suck your dick, ask someone else.”

“If I wanted my dick sucked, believe me, you’d be the last one I’d ask. Your pride means you’d be a shitty partner. Consider yourself fired, Cleaver. Turn in your gun and your badge on Monday.”

“Damn—”

“Enough!” I hissed, stepping up between the two men and darting an eye in the direction of the tent. The music was loud. Through the opening, I could see Maisey in Beckett’s arms. They were laughing and smiling. Happy.

Thank goodness.

“Don’t you dare ruin this day for Maisey and Beckett. Either of you.”

Josh looked a bit chagrinned, but Cooper’s face was an impassive wall.

I turned to Josh. “If you care about Maisey at all, you’ll stop this right now.”

“Don’t worry, I’m out of here,” Josh said, storming off toward the parking lot.

The few people who’d stopped to watch were already gossiping behind closed hands as they hustled into the marquee.

I whirled back to Cooper. “What is wrong with you?”

Surprise lifted his brows. “Excuse me?”

“You clearly have anger issues. I’m not sure how you made it so long in the LAPD, but I can tell you that people here aren’t going to put up with a sheriff who blows his top at the smallest provocation.”

Instead of angering him further, as I’d suspected it would, his lips actually twitched.

“You think this is funny?” I hissed, stepping closer so I could keep my voice low. “Ruining someone’s wedding, bad-mouthing a deputy the town adores, terrorizing kids…that all seems hilarious to you?”

His momentary humor was wiped away, and I realized my mistake in stepping closer when he reached out and caught my arm. Surprisingly, it wasn’t panic but a fierce attraction that spread through me like 100-proof vodka. I wasn’t sure which was worse, knowing a man had put his hands on me without my permission once again, or the stupidity of being drawn to someone who rippled with anger. Violence.

My body made the worst choices.

Except for Ben. He’d been sweet and kind and…

Dead. He was dead.

“Havoc, let’s get one thing straight. I love my son more than anything on this earth and would slit my own wrists before I terrorized him. You got me?”

A warning rang through me that I could barely hear over the pounding of my blood in my ears. Desire and fear tangled together.

The dim light spreading out from the tent turned his dark-blond hair nearly black. The thick waves were uncharacteristically slicked back tonight, and it put his strong jaw and a dangerously seductive cleft prominently on display. His eyes, usually a baby blue spiked with an icy fire, were nothing more than dark wells.

“Let me go.” I knew my voice shook, and I hated that he heard it.

He dropped his hands as if I’d burned him and stepped back.

“My apologies.”

I didn’t offer anything in return. Didn’t wait to hear more. Instead, I fled into the safety of the crowded marquee and almost ran straight into Misty. She put her hands out to steady me, but the touch, coming so soon after the tumult of emotions outside, only had me jerking away.

“Hey, are you okay?” she asked, brow furrowing in concern.

I inhaled slowly, counted to five, and then exhaled. “Yes. Everything’s fine. Are we ready for the bouquet toss?”

She looked out into the twilight, curiosity on her face, but then nodded.

I brought up the project management app we used and checked the wedding’s schedule, letting my focus on the job chase away the unease of the encounter with Cooper Wylee.

I wouldn’t let him get to me. Not with his suave good looks or the anger that boiled near the surface. And I wouldn’t let him ruin the remainder of this evening for Maisey either.

I’d send her off to the honeymoon suite in the hotel with nothing but good memories.

I glanced back outside, but Cooper didn’t appear in the entrance. Good. Maybe he left just like Josh had.

Why the hell was a piece of me disappointed at that thought?

Maybe I needed to head back to therapy. But when I could never really be honest with the psychologist, it defeated the point. I’d never be able to share what had happened or my worst fears.

But I could concentrate on my life and my friends and the goodness of the moment.

And that was exactly what I intended to do.

♫ ♫ ♫

Two hours later, my calm had mostly returned as the party wound down. Maisey and Beckett had said goodnight in a shower of rose petals and made their way to the hotel as the last of the guests ambled home, and the cleanup crew went to work.

Misty had been going nonstop for hours, moving at a pace that reminded me of Fallon’s energy. I imagined she would have happily stayed until the last glass had been whisked away, but I told her to take off. I needed the routine of another event winding down to settle me further.

“You’ve done an incredible job, Misty. You stepped right in like you’ve been here for years. Go home. Enjoy the win.”

“It’s a very interesting place. I’m going to have even more fun here than I’d expected.” She winked and headed out of the tent.

The wink flashed me back in time to another wink, another smile, and for two seconds, the panic I’d felt when Cooper had grabbed my arm swelled again before I shoved it back. I really was being ludicrous. I was giving old memories and one broody sheriff more power than either deserved.

I made my way around the tables, turning off the faux tea lights in the antique lanterns we’d arranged amongst the fall garland and white gourds on each table. Another successful wedding in the books. The wooden dance floor and marquee would come down tomorrow morning, and it would look like nothing had ever happened.

Until the next wedding, which was a holiday-themed one in the middle of November.

If we could finalize the deal on a semi-permanent venue, we might actually have it up for that wedding as well as the charity event in December. I was crossing my fingers, hoping Fallon would agree with me that the one I’d picked that resembled an eighteenth-century conservatory would fit with the castle’s motif. The faux wrought-iron frame held a domed roof and dozens of real-glass windows and would be a graceful addition to the property.

After ensuring the cleaning staff was almost done, I stepped out of the tent, ready to go home, to find Beckett’s large, black dog wistfully staring in the direction the couple had disappeared. The Labrador and greyhound mix still wore the cute little bow tie to which the wedding rings had been attached.

Seeing as the newlyweds weren’t taking their actual honeymoon until January, I’d promised to take care of Vader—and the herd of cats the dog had brought into the newlyweds’ lives—for the night.

I ran a finger over the dog’s silky head, and he whined. “Give them a night, Vader. Just a night. They’ve earned it. Come on, we’ll go home, feed your cats, and then you can keep me company if you’d like.”

He followed me to the parking lot behind the castle. I was almost to my SUV when I realized the light above it was out—the one I always parked under when I was going to be here late.

My mouth went dry, and my palms turned sweaty.

I had to force myself to breathe. It was just a broken light. These things happened all the time. Maintenance would fix it tomorrow.

I was safe here. Buying the house hadn’t led anyone to my trail. I’d just talked to Dawson last week, and there’d been nothing new to report from his end.

And yet, the shadows surrounding my vehicle continued to make my pulse race. The sooner I got home, the better. I opened the back passenger door, and Vader jumped in. I clipped his seat belt with rushed hands and shoved the door shut.

“I’m tired of leaving you messages that go unanswered.” A gritty, irritated voice leaped out of the darkness and made all the air in my lungs vanish. I lost my balance and had to use the SUV to steady myself before whirling to face the worst.

But the person who stepped from the shadows wasn’t the villain from my nightmares.

It couldn’t be.

Even knowing that simple truth didn’t calm the wild beat of my heart. I was still gasping for air, with my chest locked tight, as if I’d been thrown from a horse at a dead run.

Cooper’s brows were drawn together as he strode toward me, studying me with an intensity that rocked me to my core.

He’d lost the suit jacket he’d worn to the wedding, leaving him in a plain dress shirt that did nothing to hide the solid brick of his chest. He’d removed his tie and had it flung over his shoulder, with the top few buttons of the shirt undone and sleeves rolled up, showing off thick forearms.

His stunning good looks did nothing to help my poor frozen lungs. If anything, it stopped my breath further. He was easily the most attractive man I’d seen off a movie screen.

More attractive than even…

Just the mere idea of that other man was enough to blur my vision and have me tilting backward into the vehicle once more.

As if sensing my distress, Vader barked from the back seat and scrabbled against the strap holding him in. But I could do nothing to soothe him or myself.

“Hey.” Cooper’s voice softened as he took in my obvious panic, putting a surprisingly gentle hand to my elbow.

His touch scored me. Marked me.

I’d promised myself I’d never be marked again. But I couldn’t breathe well enough to tell him to back off. Instead, the world continued to spin, and I knew if I didn’t inhale, I’d faint. I’d be on the ground…helpless.

That thought only increased the pulse pumping through my veins, sealing my throat and preventing air from reaching me.

“Take a breath before you pass out,” he commanded. The simple fact he was a man used to giving orders that were followed only made matters worse.

I made a useless motion with a weak hand as adrenaline pounded through me, my body trembling uncontrollably.

I didn’t think Cooper would hurt me. It would be too public. Too visible. But then again, you never knew, did you?

No. No. Thinking of my past would not help me calm down.

Before I could register what was happening, Cooper had opened the front passenger door, pushed me into the seat with my feet hanging out, and shoved my head between my legs.

“Breathe, damn it. Nice and slow.”

Vader continued to whine.

Cooperate, body. Cooperate! With every ounce of willpower I had, I forced my mouth to unlock and accept the cool night air. And finally…finally, my lungs received the breath they’d so desperately needed. I gasped at the pain, as if it really was the first burst of oxygen after a hard fall.

“Slow. Count to four as you inhale, hold it for four, and then let it out for four,” Cooper insisted, rubbing my shoulder. He counted for me, as if I were a child. And I did as he told me because I didn’t have another option.

As my lungs slowly recovered and my body finally stopped shaking, anger and humiliation filtered in. At my body for betraying me. At this man for witnessing it.

I pushed the hand on my shoulder away. “Back off,” I snapped.

And he did just that, taking two steps away from me.

It helped to have the distance. It eased the crackle of electricity that sizzled through me whenever he was too close.

When my breathing was nearly normal and the trembling had all but stopped, I ground my teeth and finally sat up.

He was watching me, but I couldn’t read his expression. It was too dark, and he was turned away from the hotel’s lights, leaving his face a mix of shadows.

“What do you want?” I hissed.

“Before this little show”—he waved at me sitting in the SUV, still forcing myself to breathe—“I wanted a response to my damn messages. Now I want to know who the hell you’re afraid of and what they did to you.”

Tears threatened, ones I’d refused to shed for years now. I blinked furiously, jamming my teeth together again.

No way was I going to embarrass myself more by crying in front of him.

No way was I giving any man—let alone this cold, disapproving one—an ounce of my emotions ever again.

 

Chapter Six

Revenge

ANNABELLE

Performed by Shaboozey

 

Fucking bitch. Fucking bitch putting out all those pathetic signals to catch her next mark.

“But he can’t fucking have her, can he? Not when she’s already promised forever to someone else.”

I’d see her in hell before she broke those vows again.

 

Chapter Seven

Cooper

BAD MOON RISING

Performed by Creedence Clearwater Revival

 

Someone had done a number on her. Someone had taken this confident, beautiful, tough-as-nails woman and broken her.

That pissed me off. But it also had a voice in my head screaming at me to run.

Because I couldn’t afford another broken woman entering my life. I couldn’t afford the destruction that came in the aftermath.

Scandal. Heartache. Loneliness.

Screw that. I wasn’t lonely. I didn’t have time to be lonely. Not with an entire town counting on me. Not with my dad watching over my shoulder so I wouldn’t fail at the job he’d held with pride. Not with a tween son rebelling against everything and everyone, including me.

And if I didn’t have time for loneliness, I certainly didn’t have time for the sweet havoc that was Andrina Nealy.

I watched as she carefully and slowly pulled herself back together, and hell, if that wasn’t as much of a turn-on as the fire she’d sent my way when she’d interrupted my argument with Cleaver. The show we’d put on had been a good one, as intended. But she hadn’t known that. Couldn’t know that.

“Can’t you take a hint, Sheriff?” Andie tossed at me.

“Excuse me?”

“If I’d wanted to respond to your messages, I would have by now. As far as I’m concerned, the incident is best forgotten.”

“My son broke a very expensive, antique pane. I intend to pay for it and fix it.”

“Since I want neither your money nor your help, the discussion is over.”

She rose on spiked heels, and the knee-length, dark-orange dress that had ridden scandalously close to her underwear while she’d been sitting danced around her thighs. My body reacted to it, just like it did whenever I was in proximity to this woman. She was pure fuel for my libido.

Beckett’s dog barked again from the back seat, and Andie looked in at him.

“It’s okay, Vader. Everything is all right.”

The dog whined as she shut the door and started to walk around the back of her older-model SUV. It was nothing flashy, but it was completely paid off—I knew from looking at her credit report.

For all of two seconds, I felt guilty about the background check I’d run on her. But after seeing that glimpse of distress in her eyes when she’d talked about understanding how abused kids felt, I’d been concerned. Not just for her, but for my son, who she’d easily and readily invited into her house. Luca didn’t need yet another bad influence in his life.

So I’d done what my cop instincts had told me to do. I’d checked her out. And not a single thing about her had raised a flag.

When disappointment had filled me at my lack of findings, I’d been disgusted with myself. Because I’d known the truth. I’d wanted to find out she was hiding from an abusive asshole so I could ride in on my white horse and save her, just like I had with the woman who’d mothered my child. I needed to find a cure for this need of mine to rescue damsels in distress before it punched another hole into my life—into Luca’s.

 She was still shaking when she opened the driver’s door and dropped her keys. I stalked around the car and took them from her hand just as she retrieved them.

Surprise flitted through stormy eyes.

“What the hell?”

“You’re not driving,” I told her. “You have two choices. Have a seat in my truck, or let me drive your vehicle home. I can have someone bring me back in the morning to pick up mine.”

“I hate to tell you, Sheriff, but you’re not the boss of me.”

And damn, did all sorts of images flood in at her words. Silky white skin spread across my bed, listening to every single command. Images I knew better than to have.

Driving her home wasn’t a good idea. I needed to back away, put distance between this wild attraction before I did something really stupid, like pull her to me and put my mouth on those sexy-as-sin lips.

Instead, I just stared down at her, waiting for her to make a choice. She was the one to break our locked gaze first, eyes darting down and to the side. She crossed her arms over her chest, rubbing her bare arms. For two seconds, she reminded me of Luca, lost and trying to find their way through the fog.

Before I could stop myself, I’d lifted my hands and placed them over hers. I gentled my voice as much as possible. The contrition I felt at having upset her was real. “You’re rattled, Havoc. I caused that, and I’m truly sorry. Let me make sure you get home safe.”

Her throat bobbed, but she didn’t look at me.

Instead, she took another long inhale, exhaling slowly. Then, she eased away from me and back around the car. I easily made it before her, opening the passenger door and watching as she slid into the seat, giving me another flash of firm, long legs.

Legs that caused another ridiculous reaction that required me to adjust myself before I got in the car. What the hell was wrong with me?

My irritation found a home again. This time, it was directed fully at myself.

On the drive from the ranch into town, I felt her studying me. While I was much more comfortable being the one doing the scrutinizing, she’d earned her assessment. So I just focused on calming the fuck down and on the windy lanes curving between the rivers that bracketed our county.

The mountains and trees rose high on either side of us. The asphalt wasn’t yet slick with ice, as it would be in a few more weeks, but it was narrow and could be dangerous in the dark. As a teen, I’d driven these roads wildly, believing I could handle anything I encountered. Deer. Drunk drivers. Mountain lions. Now, I knew better. Even after receiving training in high-speed pursuits, I knew how quickly things could get out of control, so I took my time.

“You’re quite a conundrum, Sheriff.”

My chest tightened at the word sheriff dripping off her tongue. At least this time it hadn’t held the condescension and scorn it had the other times she’d used it.

“It’s Cooper,” I told her, shooting her a look. “We’re neighbors after all. And that’s a big word, conundrum. Why is it you think it applies to me?”

“You act like a heartless asshole, accusing Josh of ridiculous things, breathing fire at your son and me. And then, I catch these glimpses of…concern and caring…for your son, even for me in the middle of a panic attack. It makes me wonder which version of you is the real one.”

It irritated me that Cleaver was Josh to her. Had they dated? That thought turned my stomach sour almost as much as her thinking I’d been angry with her.

“I haven’t breathed fire at you.”

She snorted. “Well, if that wasn’t you breathing fire, I’d hate to see what you look like when you really are.”