Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 96970 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96970 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
I reached for my tablet as well as my travel coffee mug. “Depends on what Alex Marian has to say for himself this morning,” I grumbled.
On the drive over to Timber, I paid close attention to my surroundings, still trying to memorize directions and street names.
Spring was finishing up for real this week. Mountain snowmelt ran fast in the roadside ditches, and the air was damp and sharp with the scent of thawed earth and new grass. Patches of green were creeping up the hillsides, and the peaks on the horizon wore only ragged collars of snow now, clouds drifting lazily around their shoulders.
Through the windshield, Legacy’s landmarks appeared in sequence—the farmers market’s hand-painted sign propped against a wall for touching up, the library’s front steps swept clean after winter’s grit, the gas station where two old-timers leaned against the ice chest, jackets already discarded on a nearby bench in the mild warmth. I slowed for the turn onto Founder’s Row, where the hanging baskets had just gone up, spilling bright pansies and trailing ivy toward sidewalks still damp from an early morning sprinkle.
Up ahead, Timber’s broad front windows caught the pale sunlight, its carved wooden sign etched with the now-familiar Timber — Artisanal Pizza & Curated Wines. Even from here, I could imagine the scent of yeast and woodsmoke from the ovens, the warm murmur of customers inside.
The place was too familiar already. Not only had the mayor and sheriff brought me here after our interview, where Alex had acted like he’d never seen me before, but I’d also made the mistake of coming in to grab takeout my first night in town, not realizing the postcard mailer in my welcome packet was for the same place. Again, Alex hadn’t even given me a second glance, looking right through me as if he hadn’t bailed on me that night in Amsterdam.
The shock of seeing him again had hit me like a backdraft. For three years, I’d carried the memory of that night—the way I’d convinced myself to find someone, anyone, to have sex with. To get past my hang-up on the memory of someone I’d lost to the cruel trickster of time and fate.
I’d found the attractive stranger sitting at the hotel bar, flirting with the bartender enough to convince me he was into men and possibly looking for action. He was sexy and relaxed. Didn’t seem to take himself too seriously. The perfect one-night stand to get someone else off my mind for at least a few hours.
After talking and flirting over a round of drinks, we’d made arrangements to head upstairs together after I visited the men’s room and he signed the bar tab. I’d looked forward to exploring his body and enjoying the feel of him doing the same to mine. It had been a long time since I’d been with someone sexually. Even longer since I’d been touched by someone truly interested and attentive… unless you counted the attentions of the medical personnel at Ramstein for several months after my accident, which I did not.
But when I’d come out of the bathroom, I’d spotted the guy tonsil-deep with another man in a dark alcove.
“What the fuck?” I’d almost blurted. But I’d quickly taken the rejection as a sign. Wrong man, wrong night. Hell, wrong city, maybe.
Regardless, it had left me with a decidedly bad taste in my mouth for the sexy stranger who was now the subject of my next incident investigation.
When I’d spotted him here in Legacy, leaning casually behind the bar with that same damn smile but muscles significantly more defined and hair cut into a deliberately messy style, my chest had gone tight. Attraction had slammed into me, raw and inconvenient—and strangely stronger than before—only to be doused in an instant by his blank look. No recognition. No flicker of familiarity. Just a polite, distracted brush-off, like I was any other stranger wandering in for pizza.
The burn of it hadn’t faded. That whiplash from wanting him to wanting to strangle him was still with me every time I saw his face.
I felt the familiar curl of tension in my gut as I pulled into the large lot behind the restaurant, the unwelcome combination of disliking someone you also wanted to fuck. Thankfully, I’d brought reinforcements. Someone to help me remember I was a professional and this was a job.
Kinsey had been quiet on the short drive, taking the opportunity to review the necessary steps involved in an origin and cause investigation. My lieutenant was driven to move up to captain as soon as possible, and I wanted to make sure I was giving her ample opportunity to get the relevant experience she needed.
When we stepped out of my vehicle and began walking around to the front, she finally spoke up. “I’ve been meaning to ask, what brought you to Legacy?”