Chapter 14

My leg gets warmer,wetter. My hand holding her back is soaked in black. Blood gushes out so heavily that it doesn't have time to turn red. "No. No. No."

I jolt awake in my hammock. I must have dozed off just for a few minutes because the firepit still roars in front of me.

With a heavy breath, I drag my hands through my hair. I don't have many dreams anymore about that night. Rarely are they full-on recollections, but sometimes, like just now, I'll get a small reminder of what I lost. Fiona had bled out with an almost perfect incision that nicked her carotid artery. It seemed too clean for her killer, who was chock full of methamphetamines, to pull off. Between that and the torn-up skin along her side, it was meticulous.

When I look over, Julep is sprawled out on her patch of grass, belly up, tongue out. I let my attention linger on the guest cottage. The lights aren't on, but someone's living there now. Memories from that night pop up whenever I start to think about moving my life forward. Maybe it's my punishment for not being able to get to her in time. I had failed someone I loved; there was no do-over nor apology. I didn't get there, and I couldn't fix it. Early on, I needed therapy and to learn some coping tactics. Now, my therapy is my morning rides and making bourbon.

I didn't want to factor in anything else. Anyone else.

When I saw Laney last, I couldn't stay quiet in the stables any longer. I watched her explore the place soaking wet, her shirt molded to her skin. I was just fine minding my own business as she hummed down the main corridor. Until the crack of lightning. The way she screamed made the horses even more uneasy than the weather did.

And then I was beside her, my feet taking me there on their own, the urge to help her overwhelming. Being so close, sharing a vulnerable moment with her, I was seconds away from kissing her. She was having a panic attack one minute, and the next, I'm staring at her like a fucking creep.

The sound of Hadley's obnoxious Camaro roars up our otherwise private road. I still don't know how she has a license. She has one speed—too fast. From the back of my yard, I have an unwanted view of Laney shuffling out of her car and dancing up the front steps. I should go inside.

But I'm frozen in place. My new neighbor is impossible to ignore. Especially in a little black dress that might as well be categorized as body paint. I scrub my hand over my face. What is it about her? My dick is slapping me in the leg with the obvious answer.

After the stables, I felt too much. I talked myself down from plenty of panic attacks over the years. I didn't care what she was doing there, or who she was in that moment, I didn't want to see her scared or watch tears pool in those pretty eyes. I let her see me for a minute. Touched her skin and held her hand long enough to make sure she was okay. Then I said too much.

Laney waves at Hadley from the porch and then searches her bag for keys. She fumbles for a good few minutes before her head tilts back and she starts laughing. Throwing up her middle fingers high in the air, she says into the sky, "Fuck you, universe. Seriously. Fuck. You."

Thathas me smiling. "Lock yourself out?" I shout from my hammock.

"Holy fucking shit." She jumps, pressing her hand to her chest as she turns around. Now I feel like a dick for scaring her. She looks around and zeroes in on the firepit in my yard, and then finally sees me.

I hold up my beer as a toast hello. Maybe I should have stayed quiet.

She stares for a second, and then starts moving down her porch steps. "Any chance you can help me?" she shouts back.

Her long hair is wavy and a bit wild. She looks good even from this far away. My lack of response keeps her walking over. Her heels must be giving her a helluva time, getting stuck in the grass every few feet because halfway here she finally gives up, takes them off, and just leaves them there without bothering to pick them up.

I can hear her talking to herself as she gets closer. "Grown-ass woman can hold her own, but can't remember a key..."

She inhales like she's already annoyed and it has me biting back a smile. Why do I find this amusing? "You seem a little angry over there."

"I'm thirsty. I want to get out of this suction cup of a dress. I could use something greasy in my life, but seeing as how I haven't gone grocery shopping, that's not happening." Looking down at her bare feet and then back up at me with the most defeated look on her face, she says, "And now my feet hurt."

Julep sits up and her butt and tail are moving so fast that she looks like she's going to take off if I give her the command that she can go.

"Hello, sweet girl," Laney says to her. She looks back at me. "Is it okay?"

I nod for her to go ahead. "Ease up, Julep."

She smiles up at me from a crouched position, giving my dog a full head rub, and I'll be honest, she could ask me for just about anything right now, and I'd get it for her. "I've got a spare key inside. Water?"

It takes just a minute to find it, but when I come back out, she's sprawled out on the hammock, swinging it slowly back and forth with one leg draped over the side. The entire scene has me stopping in my tracks because this woman is more than beautiful. And trying to look away is impossible.

Sitting up from the hammock, she takes the glass of water I brought and chugs it back. "I think I want a hammock. There's a spot over there." She points into the dark at what I'm assuming are the two big oak trees near the cottage. "This is the first time I've ever had the pleasure of being on one of these. I get it now," she says, resting her head back, brushing her foot a bit faster to pick up the motion.

"They don't have hammocks in Colorado?"

She tries to ignore me, but I'm really good at silence. It's a learned tactic, one that still works in my favor. Especially when she says, "I would think they do, but I've just never been on one. Just like I know there are nice guys in the world, but I've never been on one of those either." She slaps her hand over her mouth. "I said that out loud, didn't I?" Certainly did. And now I am picturing myself as someone she'd want to be on.

"How was Hadley's new summer drink menu?"

I laugh when she emphasizes, "Too good." Her hands explaining what she's most excited about. "There was a pistachio thing at the end that I could have kept sipping on if Hadley kept pouring."

Jesus Christ, I can't stop staring at her mouth.

"You keep looking at me like that, cowboy, and I'll get the wrong idea."

I swallow and already regret responding, "And what idea is that, honey?"

She lifts her head up and smiles. A wide and full grin that's laced with mischief. "Say that again."

It takes whatever is left of my reserve not to smirk at the way she flirts with me. But I stand there, not tipping my hand, and let her bring up what I know she overheard when she left me band-aids. "Say what again?"

The word comes out breathy. "Honey."

I remember exactly what I said, and I can't help repeating. I smile, dropping my tone lower when I say, "That's it." Her eyes widen as they meet mine, and I cross my arms. "Honey."

Her thighs squeeze together. Did that turn her on?

She clears her throat and then rests her head back against the hammock. "Midnight Proof is incredible," she says, pivoting the subject. "But then I wanted to leave. And then when I got outside, I realized I didn't have a credit card for a ride-share so I thought I would walk?—"

"You thought you were going to walk here?"

She nods.

"Alone? From Midnight Proof?"

Absolutely not.

"Yes, but then there was a guy?—"

"What guy?"

She squints her eyes at me. "What are you, a cop? Yes, a guy."

"I was," I snap back at her.

"You were what? A cop?"

I nod, sipping the ass of the beer I'd been drinking earlier. Tossing the empty bottle to the side, I cross my arms over my chest once more, watching her swing in my hammock.

"Hmm," she laughs. "I would have thought Bea would have told me that. My dad would have liked you."

I can only stare, because that was the most information I've gotten out of her. And if she's talking about the Bea I think she is, then this would explain a bit more about what the hell she's doing in my town. As I look her over, the firelight hits a small, jagged scar along her neck. One I hadn't noticed before now.

"Bea?"

"What?" Her eyes flick to mine. "Where?" She swats at the air.

"Bea Harper?"

"What?" Yawning dramatically, she tries to play off what I just caught.

"Are you talking about Bea Harper? The U.S. Marshall?"

She stretches her arms above her head and shuts her eyes, mumbling, "So tired," and then lies still. She can't be serious? What the fuck?

At least a minute ticks by. Goddamnit. "I know you're not sleeping." I shift my weight and stare down at her, taking in the way her hair falls through the roped holes of the hammock. Her legs cross at the ankles and her face is slack without a trace of tension. "Are you in trouble, Laney?"

I walk closer so I'm standing right over her. "This isn't going to work. I know you're awake. Just answer my question."

Another minute passes, and she's still just lying there like she's fallen asleep. Apparently, I'm not the only one good at the silence game. I make up my mind.

Fine.

I'll play.

Reaching down, I loop one arm under her knees and snake the other across the middle of her back as I scoop her up and into my arms. "I don't like being ignored, honey. And you and I both know you're not asleep." I stride around the side of the house. "This is your last chance, Laney."

With a sigh, she snuggles into my arms. I stop and hoist her higher, which prompts her to lift her arm from dangling at her side to rest it across my chest and neck. I'd be the liar if I said holding her like this didn't feel good. There's something about picking up a woman that makes a man feel like a man. Tack that onto carrying her and then dropping her onto something soft, just to fuck her hard, it's a feeling I haven't had in a long time. But something soft isn't my destination. I lean forward so that my thighs brush against the metal. Holding her over the filled horse trough, I give her one last warning.

"Laney, you're going to get wet if you don't answer my question."

A smirk plays across her face before she whispers, "Don't threaten me with a good time, cowboy."

Jesus Christ.It has me rethinking what I'm about to pull for the briefest second. But not enough to stop it. The splash, followed by the immediate screech that comes pouring from her mouth seconds later when she's dropped ass-first into the cold water, almost makes me feel bad. Almost.

She raises her arms and slams them down like she's throwing a temper tantrum. "You dropped me in a tub of dirty water."

"I did." I try to stifle the smile teetering on the edge of my lips. I'm not as wet as she is, but the front of my shirt and jeans took on the wave of water from when she went in.

"Are you going to waterboard me now?" She splashes at me, and I lunge backward as much as I can, but she still manages to wallop me with a good soak. "Why aren't you a cop anymore? Let me guess. Cruel and unusual punishment?"

I grit my teeth and try not to laugh at how pissed off she is.

She stands, fuming as her soaked hair drips down her body. As she moves to lift her leg over the side of the trough, I quickly grab her arm to help her balance the rest of the way out. Her skin is cool to the touch, but it's not enough to ignore the heat that's sparked between the two of us. Attraction, anger, and annoyance linger as thick as the humid air. It was an asshole move, I know that, but I don't regret it.

When she stands straight, both bare feet on the grass while rivulets of water run down her skin, I can't hide my smile in response to her threatening glare. Her tight black dress is plastered to her curves, almost the same way it did when it was dry. Only now, her nipples are hard and poking through. I didn't think this through.

"Be a gentleman and give me your shirt," she demands.

I laugh. "It's almost as wet as you are."

"Fine." She hooks her finger into the strap on her left shoulder and lowers it.

Fuck, did I want her to keep going.

"Alright. Alright." I grip the hem of my damp shirt, whipping it over my head and tossing it to her. She stares at my bare chest, and it fuels my self-esteem. Something I never typically struggle with, but damn, it's nice to see it up close and feel it. There was a time when the gym and working out was a part of my job, but the physical labor of the cooperage does plenty to keep me in shape. Snapping out of her perusal of my arms and chest, she balls up my shirt to wipe her face. Then she moves it down each arm and bends to wipe her legs.

Once she's done, she throws my balled-up shirt back at me and starts to walk away. "Haven't gotten that wet for a man in a long time. So, thanks!"

I look up at the pitch-black sky. What am I supposed to do with that?

"Laney," I call after her. When she turns, I toss the spare key for her place. "You know I'm not going to let it go, right?"

She catches it with a smirk. "Neither am I, cowboy."

I snort a small laugh to myself. That ridiculous nickname.

Turning around, she yells over her shoulder, "And I'd be very disappointed if you did."