Total pages in book: 52
Estimated words: 51744 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 259(@200wpm)___ 207(@250wpm)___ 172(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51744 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 259(@200wpm)___ 207(@250wpm)___ 172(@300wpm)
And that’s a real fucking problem because she doesn’t seem to want me in return.
“We’ll go to the Dusty Rose tonight.” Miles cracks six eggs into a cast iron skillet.
“Hungry much?” I ask.
“Hey, I’m making this for Sadie too. Where the hell is the bacon?”
I scratch my head. “I don’t know. Louisa made breakfast four hours ago, dumbass, when you were still in bed. We do have work to do around here. Remember work?”
“Like I said, bro.” Miles grinds some pepper over the frying eggs. “You need to get laid.”
I shake my head. “Sex doesn’t solve everything, Miles.”
He gives me a sly grin. “It’s a damned good start.”
“How would lovely Sadie feel about you going with me to the Dusty Rose?”
He shrugs as if it’s no big deal. Maybe it isn’t. “She’ll come along, of course. My girl can dance up a storm.”
I roll my eyes. “No thanks.”
“Suit yourself.” He flicks the pan and flips all six eggs at once.
“Where’d you learn to do that?”
“When your mother’s busy wooing husbands, you learn to fend for yourself.” Miles pulls two plates out of the cupboard and grabs the bread that has popped out of the toaster. “Where’s the butter?”
“Up your ass.” I shake my head. “In the fridge, where it’s been since you got here.”
“Ha. You’re funny. I’ll say it a third time.”
I hold up my hand to stop him. “I know. I need to get laid.” I draw in a breath. Miles’s eggs and toast smell good. Like home. “You know what? The Dusty Rose sounds like a plan. Better yet, what about that bar where you and Sadie met?”
“Not a bad alternative, but have you forgotten? It’s ladies’ night again at the Rose.”
Ladies night—when the drinks are discounted and the pussy is plentiful.
I’ll go. I’ll go and tie one on.
But I won’t end up in bed with anyone.
Not tonight. Not when Avery Marsh is mere miles away.
And not when I’m still fucking in love with her.
3
AVERY
* * *
I’m not sure how long I sat in my car before I finally turned on the ignition and drove away from Bridger Ranch.
It’s crazy how much my body still reacts to Chance.
I never felt this with Tyler or anyone else.
I sigh. Tyler. Tyler Lipscomb is a wonderful man, and he was willing to take me with all my baggage. Until the day he wasn’t.
You don’t feel about me the way I feel about you, Avery.
I do, Ty.
You don’t. You want to. Maybe you’ve even convinced yourself that you do, but you don’t.
You’re wrong. I love you.
I believe that, but not the way I love you. You love what I represent for you and your family. But you don’t want me for me.
I wept as I removed the diamond solitaire from my left ring finger and placed it in the palm of his hand.
It was fruitless to argue further. He was right, and we both knew it.
I drive into Bayfield proper and stop at the local police station. They’ve allowed my partner, Roy Jarvis, and me to set up shop in an empty corner. The sheriff, Trevor Bryant, was very welcoming. Detective Mark Peterson? Not so much.
“Hey, partner,” Jarvis says when I walk toward our small alcove. His sandy blond hair is covered by a black felt cowboy hat.
“Hey yourself. Trying to look the part?”
He grins. “When in Rome…” He makes some notes on his phone.
“Anyone tell you it’s not cool to wear a hat inside? Especially in a lady’s presence?”
He grins and removes the hat. Glances up. “Now look at me. I have hat head.”
“Your own fault, city slicker. You can’t pull that look off.” I glance around. “They seem to be leaving you alone.”
“You think? Other than Sheriff Bryant, no one’s deigned to speak to me.”
“The more things change… Locals always hate us.” I take a seat across from Jarvis at our small table.
Documents are scattered every which way, and his laptop and tablet are both set up.
“You see him?” Jarvis asks.
My body warms. Damn it. “I did.”
“And…?”
“And what?”
I haven’t told Jarvis about my past with Chance Bridger. I don’t want to get kicked off the case for a conflict of interest. It’s too late. I should have told McGuinness when I got the assignment, but I didn’t. If I mention it now, I’ll look like an idiot.
It was his decision to put me on this assignment. He knows my past, knows I grew up here. He thinks it gives me an edge. A local, even though I haven’t been one for over a decade. Still, I know the town. Know the people, or what I remember of them.
He knows I grew up in Bayfield, but not that I was a prime suspect’s high school girlfriend. And more.
I’m a good agent and I’m not messing that up because of something that happened long ago. I can push my emotions to the side and do my job. And if Chance Bridger is a killer? Best I find out now.