Chapter 5

"Hey, man, how's it goin'?" I reached out to grab Dillon's hand.

"Really good," Dillon said.

We were at the Lucky Lady again, and the place was packed. They had a live band on a tiny stage in one corner, so small I had overlooked it the previous two times I had been in the joint. They were playing cover songs of hit country music, and some people were dancing. Others were stuffed into the booths, drinking and laughing. At the bar, men and women were flirting, drinking beer, and getting into all kinds of trouble. It looked like a great way to wind down after my first week on the job. Dillon handed me a beer, and we took a seat at the bar.

"What do they have you working on?" Dillon asked. He wasn't looking around the room to scope out pretty ladies. I had to hand it to his wife—she must be something special. My old friend didn't show the least bit of interest in any of the women on the dance floor.

While sipping on my beer, I was just getting comfortable, when I saw her. The girl from the grocery store was across the room, dancing with another woman. The two of them leaned forward, and the produce-aisle hottie said something that had the other woman laughing. She was wearing a simple dress that clung to her chest and draped over curvy hips. It grazed her thighs, showing off athletic legs beneath. She wore a pair of high heels like she had been born into them, proud and sensual on the dance floor.

Dillon saw me looking. "Go over and talk to her."

I hung back. I didn't have the greatest luck with women, and my last hookup at a bar had led to a miserable ten-year-long marriage. Still, I couldn't stop sneaking glances at that fox in her black dress. Every other woman in the bar wore a pair of tight blue jeans. She was the only one who had dared to dress up.

I found my own jeans growing tighter as I watched and turned back to the bar reluctantly.

"Why are you being such a wuss?" Dillon asked.

"I don't know. I mean she's already looking like she's having a good time, I wouldn't want to—"

"Just go over to her and say hello." He snuck a peek at the object of my affection. "She's looking over here, man."

I looked and caught her eye, and just as quickly, she looked away. I watched as she grabbed her friend's hand and led her to the bar. She leaned over the edge to try to get the bartender's attention. Dillon gave me a shove.

I groaned. I guess I was really going to do this. I was a little out of practice, approaching girls in bars. What were you supposed to say? I decided to start with the basics.

"Hi," I said.

She looked over, startled. "Hi."

"Let me help." I flagged down the bartender, hoping he would remember I was a cop.

He did, and he arrived a moment later, turning me into a minor hero of sorts.

The girl smiled, her eyes lighting up. "Can I have two bottles of Bud, please?"

The bartender nodded, grabbed the bottles, flipped off the caps, and set them down.

"Thanks!" The girl's friend toasted me with her beer.

I nodded politely. "Will you let me get it?" I asked my mystery woman.

She picked up her bottle without answering. "I saw you at the grocery store."

I smiled. "I think you were checking me out."

She gasped in mock horror. "I was not."

"I was checking you out," I said.

She blushed. "You must be new around here. I haven't seen you before."

"Jason White. I'm the new detective in town."

"Oh." She sounded surprised. "How long have you been here?"

"Just a week," I said. "I could use someone to show me around."

"Oh." She exhaled softly, lowering her lashes.

"I'm Ava." The woman's friend stuck her hand out.

"Pleased to meet you," I said before turning back to the sexy shopper.

"I'm Lindsey," she said. "Lindsey Parker. I work at the salon."

"Did you do my wife's hair?" Dillon came up behind me.

Lindsey's eyes shifted away from mine briefly to size up Dillon. He was bigger than me, taller and broader in the chest. But I was leaner, sculpted where Dillon was intimidating.

"Is your wife Macy?" Ava guessed.

"That's right," Dillon said.

"Yeah," Ava laughed, "Lindsey did her hair."

"It looks great," Dillon said. "Macy loves it."

"I saw your family at Walmart," Lindsey said. "Your children are beautiful."

"Thanks," Dillon said awkwardly. "I think I'm gonna take off." He set his empty mug down on the bar. "It was nice meeting you, Lindsey. Ava."

They waited until Dillon had disappeared to talk about him.

"Dillon used to be a hermit," Ava said conspiratorially.

Lindsey shifted uncomfortably.

"He's one of my best friends," I said, rescuing Lindsey again. "We were on the force together in Nashville."

"You're from Nashville?" Lindsey asked.

"Yeah." I nodded.

"What brought you out here?" She was clearly interested.

"Fresh air," I said. "I got tired of the big city."

"I was born right here in Singer's Ridge," Lindsey said.

"You look like you'd be right at home in Nashville," I said, "or even New York."

"What, this old thing?" She shimmied playfully, making the dress dance across her skin.

"No one else is wearing a dress." I fought the urge to reach out and touch the fabric. I could just imagine how smooth it would be under my fingertips, how gently it would trace her curves.

"If I'm gonna go out for the night"—she tossed a glance at her friend— "I might as well dress up."

"Okay, I know when I'm not wanted." Ava took a final swallow of her bottle and set it down. "You two have fun."

"You don't have to leave." Lindsey clung to her friend's arm, as if being abandoned to the sea.

"I have to open the salon in the morning." Ava wrapped Lindsey up in a hug. "It was good to meet you," she said to me.

"Good to meet you too," I said with a smile.

As Ava moved toward the door, I pointed at an open table in the corner. "Would you like to sit down?"

Lindsey studied me for a moment, deciding whether I was worth the risk. "I could sit," she finally said.

We worked our way past the dancers and sat. Her hair was loose and fell across her shoulder. She brushed it away with a practiced hand. I wondered what it would be like to brush my own fingers through her hair, to grab fistfuls as I pumped into her from behind. I threw the image off and tried to focus on what she was saying.

"What made you choose Singer's Ridge?" she asked.

"Dillon." I gestured toward the door. "I remembered he moved here a few years ago."

She took a sip and looked around, as if searching for something to say.

"So, you're a hairdresser," I began.

She nodded.

"What else should I know about you?"

"I just moved into a cabin in the mountains," she replied.

"Really?" I leaned forward. "How do you like it?"

"Oh, I love it. It's so quiet and peaceful."

"I'm looking to buy a cabin too. I have cash to pay, I'm just waiting for the renter to move out."

Her face went from flirty to closed off in a matter of seconds. Her eyes lit with a fire that wasn't passion but anger. I could almost see steam rising from her forehead.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"That's my cabin," she said through perfect teeth. "Off of Miller Road?"

I nodded.

"I'm the renter," she snapped. "I was told it would be a rent-to-own situation and that I would have sole rights to purchase it a year from now."

The woman was hot, but I was not about to give up my dream home for her. "It was in the real estate listings."

"It shouldn't have been."

"How was I supposed to know?" I asked.

"You could take your cash and walk away," she suggested.

"I'm not gonna do that." I shook my head.

"You think just because you're new to town, you can just walk in here and get whatever you want?" She leaned across the table, her lips curling more with each new word. God, she was hot. I was having trouble focusing on the argument. "Why don't you find another cabin?"

"There aren't a lot of vacant cabins," I explained.

"This one isn't vacant either—I live there!" She stood up. Her shouting caused attention to wander from the band in our direction.

Lindsey stood before me, balanced on her high heels, her little dress swinging seductively. She put one manicured hand on her hip and dared me to follow. I stood slowly, aware of the size of the package straining against my pants. She didn't seem to notice; she was looking into my eyes.

"If you can't be decent enough to walk away from this situation when a helpless citizen is in trouble…" She pointed a finger at me.

I had to laugh. "Helpless?" I threw back at her. "I've known you all of fifteen minutes, and already I can tell you're not helpless."

She lowered her voice. "I am appealing to your sense of honor as a man."

It had been a long time since I had seen someone so beautiful. Her anger made her eyes sparkle and her muscles tense, and I couldn't help imagining those long legs wrapped around me in bed. I knew I should be paying attention to her words, but her energy was on fire. One short step would bring me close enough to bend her over the table.

"I hope I never see you again!" She picked up my bottle and tossed what was left of my beer at me before storming out.

I watched her go with appreciation, her backside just as firm as I had imagined. Unfazed, I wiped off what little liquid had managed to stain my shirt. I picked up the empties and took them back to the bar. "I'll pay for these," I told the bartender.

He grinned at me, holding in a laugh as he rang me up. I walked back to the hotel, thankful for the cool touch of the night air. In my room, I peeled off the damp shirt and threw it on a chair. I remembered Lindsey standing over me, her little dress brushing her thighs. What if I had followed up on my impulse to close the distance between us? What if she had turned all that energy into passion and melted in my arms? I would have turned her around, bent her over the table, and lifted up her skirt.

I undid my belt buckle and pulled down my jeans. The fabric of my underwear strained against my cock. It was hard and swollen, growing bigger with every flickering image. I groaned, sliding myself free of the fabric, releasing the rod into my hand. I lay down on the bed, working my fingers over the shaft.

She looked so hot in her little black dress, like she knew how to make a man come. I imagined sinking into her, her body closing around me. I would thrust once, twice, deeper each time. She would moan, cheek pressed to the table, hair fanned out across the wood. I would wind my fingers through that hair as I buried myself over and over in her sweet channel.

Just thinking about her brought me to the peak and threw me over. I spasmed into my hand, feeling the release of a decade's worth of tension in one act. I really was an idiot when it came to women. Lindsey had thrown a beer in my face, and all I could think about was how amazing she would feel in my bed. The aftershocks passed through my rib cage as I held on to my cock, slowly releasing the mental images.

I decided I must have a death wish and resolved not to give an inch. I was going to buy that cabin, temptress or not. I hobbled to the bathroom to wash off and was asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.