Snowed Under (Roadside Attractions Book 7) Read online

“You!” I say stupidly.

  Immediately, I turn and shut my office door.

  I’ve taken care of Fate for fifteen years, and now Fate has stepped in to take care of me.

  She’s not getting away from me again.

  Chapter Three

  Lucy

  “Mooney?”

  Before I can stop him, Wyatt Mooney has me wrapped in a tight, soul-warming bear hug. And he doesn’t let go. So, I guess he remembers me after all.

  “How long has it been?” His Southern accent is the same as I remember, calling to mind thick caramel, drizzling and hot.

  “I…” Oh, this is a real hug. A good one that makes me almost forget what I was about to say.

  That’s okay, though. This is a bear hug that my body has been needing, and I didn’t even know it.

  At this moment, I start to question all my decisions. Why in the world did I say no to Wyatt Mooney?

  Career, stupid. Career.

  Meaning, your job that you are supposed to be doing right now? Oh. That.

  “I think it’s been about 15 years since the academy?” I say it like a question but I know this for certain.

  Wyatt pulls away from the hug slowly. I find that I don’t enjoy not being hugged by him. Gather your wits, blondie. This is serious.

  “It’s good to see you, Lucy.”

  I inhale slowly, preparing to tell him everything. “You’d better have a seat.”

  “I’ll get you some coffee. You want some?”

  I shake my head.

  “That’s right,” he says, pointing at me with finger guns. “You take tea.”

  I’m so shocked that he remembers I prefer tea, that I forgive the corny finger guns.

  “Y-yes, if you have tea, that would be great.”

  He winks and heads down the hall, leaving me alone with my reeling thoughts.

  The way he walks out of the room brings me back to the police academy. Wyatt’s tall, lean frame takes up most of the height of every doorway he passes through. He still strolls in a way that broadcasts his awareness that everyone is watching his muscular ass move through the room. The little shit still has it. And knows it.

  I also remember how he would smile at everyone in that wide-open, boy-next-door way. Now, his eyes have crinkles around them, the kind that makes me weak.

  I can’t wait to see you. What’s your ETA? The anonymous texter is at it again.

  My mother would take this opportunity to chastise me for never having gotten married. She seems to be under the impression that married women don’t get harassed. She means well.

  I’m just glad Sidney’s staying with a friend and not at home at the condo this weekend; someone must be watching my house.

  I shoot off a text to my contact, Agent Spade, at the cyber crimes unit in D.C.

  Spade texts back right away, “Looks like a spoof VPN. It’ll take some time to dig. Screencap everything, okay?”

  Of course, I’m already doing that. A fake VPN is unsettling.

  Wyatt returns with my tea in a ceramic mug, and I plaster on a smile. “That’s commemorative. You can keep it.” I examine the mug, which has a sketch of a ball of yarn, a golden retriever, and the words, “Fate, home of the World’s Largest Ball of Yarn.”

  He nods and sits back down across from me with a sigh that sounds like relief. He could not be feeling relief at being next to me again; he was out of the room all of five minutes. “Yep. We’re pretty proud of that.”

  I am skeptical but intrigued. “After the interview, you’ll have to show me this ball of yarn.”

  “It’s a date!”

  I give him a warning along with a friendly smile. “This professional business is turning more and more unprofessional by the second.”

  He winks again. “It’s just so good to see you, Lucy. You have no idea.”

  Oh, I have some idea.

  “How’ve you been?” I ask him.

  “Can’t complain. Except for one thing.”

  I’m afraid to ask, but he is baiting me. “What’s that?”

  The silence hangs between us for only a beat, but it feels like an eternity. I don’t like the way he’s staring me down. I don’t like it, but also, I do like it. Dammit. What is he doing?

  “The one that got away.”

  Oh god. He doesn’t mean me. But his eyes have pinned me like prey, and I can’t look away or deny what he’s getting at.

  “I see.”

  Another hug would feel better than this staring contest.

  I clear my throat nervously. “Should we get on with the interview?”

  “I’m sorry, did I make you feel flustered? Is it hot in here? Should I turn down the furnace? It’s these old buildings; the heating is either next to nothing or like the surface of the sun.”

  I shake my head. “I’m fine.” Although I am not okay with the way he’s staring at the neckline of my suit jacket. I don’t know that there is anything to look at. It’s just a silk shell under a dull navy blue blazer. It’s either this or the black suit—nothing sexy or glamorous here.

  I click my pen. “This is going to be an uncomfortable line of questioning, but the bureau received a tip. Multiple times from the same source. Would you agree there might be some problematic habits that you have, as sheriff?”

  His brow knits together. “Problematic?” He looks genuinely confused. Genuine to a rookie, maybe. He knows what he’s doing.

  I nod. “Specifically, I’d like to know more about some of the rumors coming from our tipster that you like to set up roadblocks to keep people from leaving Fate. Is that true?”

  Wyatt barks out a laugh. “It’s a safety thing.”

  Here we go. It’s storytime, folks. I smirk and sip my tea. “How so?”

  “Well, as you know, this is a tiny town along the side of a busy highway. We have a lot of people passing through every day. I keep tabs on all the goings-on, especially at Ruby’s, Rex’s garage, and the abandoned motel. Those places are close to the highway and can attract some bad eggs. Beyond that, a lot of strangers wander downtown just to look. And that’s fine. I just encourage them to stay a little longer.”

  “By setting up barricades?”

  “And U-turns. And maybe, when there’s a thunderstorm, I take advantage of a puddle here and there to declare certain roads impassable.”

  I sit forward in my seat. I remember how he used to goof off during physical training, but this is odd.

  “I’m sorry, but I don’t understand how this makes people want to stay.”

  Wyatt shrugs. “It’s not that complicated. It’s just a stalling tactic.”

  Squinting at him, I say, “You see how this looks, though.”

  “I don’t see how it warrants an FBI case, but I’ll help you any way I can,” he says, the furrows in his forehead deepening. My fingertips itch to trace over them.

  Focus, Lucy. Focus. He could be a kidnapper.

  That idea is laughable. I’ve interrogated hundreds of evil people in my years at the bureau: serial killers, sexual predators, embezzlers, mafia associates. Wyatt is a sweetheart, and I know it.

  I watch the man lean forward, resting his elbows on his knees, threading his ten long fingers together. His chair creaks under his shifting weight. Those hands are still veiny and large, but his knuckles have been roughed up over time. God, what those knuckles could do to me…my mouth dries up just imagining it.

  But is he a sweetheart? Is my judgment clouded by the memory of how sweet he was to me when we slept together that one night? Clarification: He was sweet after the part where he pinned my wrists together over my head, making me ride his fingers until I came two, three, four times.

  Fuck this cup of tea; I need some ice water.

  “I appreciate your cooperation, Wyatt.” My words come out raspier than I intend.

  I stupidly stare at his hands as I say this, and he catches me.

  Our eyes meet. I freeze. Another electric silence passes between us. The air is thick with energy so potent
it could set my panties on fire. It feels like both of us remember that same exact moment all those years ago when I made a noise like a cat in heat.

  And then he steals my heart with his words, and I detect some genuine emotion in the catch in his throat. “I…really fucking miss you, Lucy.”

  Oh, Lord.

  What do I say to that?

  I’ve had my walls up for so long. For the good of Sidney. For my ambition. For the greater good of society. And he just knocked them down like a wrecking ball.

  Swallowing hard, I look back at him. “Me too.”

  Chapter Four

  Wyatt

  I’ve come on too strong.

  My words might be flirtatious, my manners easy, but inside I am howling. On the one hand, I’m this close to beating my chest and throwing her over my shoulder.

  On the other hand, her mouth might have just said the words, “Me too,” but her face looks like a doe in headlights.

  If I’m not careful, I’m going to blow it. It’s the shock. I’m still so stunned to see her that I’m letting my emotions take over.

  Never mind the insta-boner that has been leading the way since I realized the woman of my dreams has been waiting for me in my office. I need to get control of this heart that hammers so hard in my chest before my show of emotions scares her away.

  She reaches for her tea, finally breaking eye contact. I’m an idiot.

  The snow outside falls harder now. I ease the tension in the room by moving to my desk to check the weather report on my computer.

  “Looks like there’s a freak snowstorm blowing in. This is not good. We just had one last month. Hopefully we won’t be any rockslides up on the mountain this time, that was a doozy.”

  Lucy sits up straighter and asks, “How many inches?”

  Absentmindedly, I answer, “Me? Oh, I’m about eight.”

  “What?!”

  I look up, and Lucy’s eyes are wide.

  Clearing my throat, I pretend I didn’t just give her a very specific measurement to jog her memory. I click on the radar. “We’re gonna get about four inches overnight and wind gusts of fifty miles per hour.”

  Lucy stands and moves to the window. “I’m kind of excited to experience real snow before I leave town. We don’t usually see it where I’m from.”

  Her profile is heartbreakingly perfect. The long slope of her nose, her full, parted lips, her gorgeous eyes. If she’s aged a day, she’s only become more beautiful to me. I’m no artist, but at this moment, I wish I was so I could draw her just like that, staring out the window, hoping for snow.

  “Sure would be a shame if you got stranded here with me during a snowstorm,” I comment.

  Lucy whirls around to say something but hesitates.

  Just then, our meeting is interrupted by Rex, our town’s lone mechanic and tow truck driver.

  “Hey, Sheriff. Just wanted to let you know Danny and I can sand the roads that the fire department can’t get to before things get out of control. Oh, hi.”

  He looks at Lucy, and an irrational possessiveness falls upon me, which is ridiculous because Rex is married with kids. Rex is so wholly devoted to Juniper that he tolerates other people’s time-wasting meetings even less than he used to.

  “Rex. This is my old friend from the police academy, Lucy.”

  Rex nods politely, and we carry on the conversation as we usually would. But I can see something else going on, wheels turning in his head. I’m so transparent; he can see that I like this woman.

  We coordinate our plans, and when I turn back to Lucy, I’m a little panicked to see she’s standing and gathering her things.

  “Heading out?”

  She nods hesitantly. “Guess so? If the weather’s going to be as bad as you say, maybe I should head back to Gold Hill and find a hotel?”

  It’s phrased as a question, and I have the answer.

  Nope. I’m not letting her get away.

  “I still owe you a date.”

  We both know if she lollygags around Fate with me, she’s going to have to deal with icy roads, canceled flights, delayed plans.

  She takes a few seconds to think it over. To my delight and surprise, she smiles shyly and says, “Well, I suppose I have time for one date.”

  I am on a date with Lucy. I must be dreaming. I could be dreaming, except that this biting wind reminds me that I am awake. So far, so good. My heart has calmed down, and I’m enjoying this moment of her and me. Her arm is in mine, the swirling snow at twilight makes our little town square look magical, and I’m as happy as I’ve ever been. Moments ago, I’d thought I was in danger of running her off. But she stayed.

  This is my shot.

  This is what I should have done with Lucy the first time. I should have wooed her. But that doesn’t matter now. She’s with me, here, by bizarre coincidence, and if that’s not a sign, then I don’t know what is.

  Her life is so different now. She tells me all about Sidney, now 19, and about Sidney’s current plans to take a gap year before going to college. I could listen to her talk all night, but she’s polite and asks questions about me, too.

  We chat as we walk around the courthouse square, past the yarn store, the brewery, and eventually end up at the exhibit hall. I unlock the side door and switch on the lights of our humble little visitor center. To the right is a small kiosk with pamphlets for area attractions. Against the far wall is the garage door that leads to the ramp for loading and unloading the yarn ball for events and festivals. A small gift shop and a plaque from the Guinness Book of World Records are to the left of us. We’ve come a long way since that little spat with Gold Hill over the legitimacy of our claims to own the World’s Largest Ball of Yarn.

  As Lucy walks around the mammoth yellow ball of wool, I tell her the whole story behind it. She laughs at my dumb jokes and asks questions about the little town I call home.

  “I missed your laugh,” I tell her.

  She laughs again, but self-consciously this time. “We barely spent enough time together for you to remember my laugh, let alone that I prefer tea over coffee.”

  Before I can stop myself, I blurt it out. “I remember every damn thing about you, Lucy.”

  A sweet flush reddens her cheeks and nose. “Wyatt,” she chastens, half-heartedly, not meeting my eyes.

  I’m looking right at her, and I’m not taking my eyes off her. Ever again, if I can help it. “Lucy.”

  “I feel embarrassed that all I remember about you is that you were a huge flirt and still are.”

  I laugh. “Is it working?”

  Lucy exhales. “You know I have to go back to Miami as soon as possible, especially now that I know you’re not a serial kidnapper.”

  A snort escapes me. “Kidnapper!”

  She laughs. “Your counterpart in Gold Hill seems to think you’re up to something criminal.”

  I close in on her. “Well, I ain’t a criminal, but I am up to something. I wanna kiss you, Lucy.”

  We’re so close that I can smell her perfume and the tea. It’s the same scent I remember from that night, and my mind hurtles back. I close my eyes and inhale.

  “What are you doing?”

  I open my eyes and name the perfume. Her shocked expression tells me I remembered right. “That’s it. How did you…?”

  “I’m dying here, Lucy. Do you want me to kiss you or not?”

  “Yes, please.”

  Without another word from either of us, my lips take hers in a kiss that warms me to my toes. I lick the seam of her lips, nudging my way into her mouth, not wasting a second with chaste kissing. Lucy’s tiny gasp turns to a moan when she lets me in, and her hands go to the back of my neck. Our tongues tease and tangle, the shockingly familiar sensation sending all the heat in my body straight to my cock.

  There are too many layers between us, and I need to feel her against me. But I want to do this right this time around. I want more than a one-night stand. I want her to stay.

  And I will put up every barricade
I have to in order to keep her here.

  Chapter Five

  Lucy

  This kiss is so good, warm, and brain-scrambling that two opposing truths occur to me.

  My body had wanted to see where things would lead, but my mind said no. And both of them are correct.

  My heart, though. My heart has been devoted to Sidney all these years, but now? My heart’s capacity for love is multiplying. Can one kiss do that?

  Wyatt’s hands hold me still as if he’s afraid I might run away. He pulls me closer and deepens the kiss. He kisses with his whole self, his intensity almost scary if it weren’t also so sexy. He’s gotten even better at this in the passing years.

  Wyatt’s hands tug at the zipper of my coat and find their way inside my blazer, freeing the stiff buttons and flattening against my ribs, just below my breast.

  He speaks low and close to my lips, both of us pink in the face, his mouth softly stained from my pale lip gloss. “This okay?”

  I laugh softly. “If it’s not, it’s a little late.”

  “I got carried away. I’m sorry. You just feel so damn good in my arms, Lucy.”

  I grab his hand just as he begins to pull it away. I watch the curious look on his face change into pure heat when I move that hand of his up to my breast. His groan makes me wet, and he hungrily presses his mouth to mine again. The stroke of his thumb over my nipple draws out a moan.

  The kissing intensifies. We are eating each other’s faces, and pretty soon, I’m going to need him to get rid of all of these pesky layers of winter clothing.

  This man is working his way under my skin. I feel him everywhere. His demanding tongue and firm lips wipe away any thoughts about why this might be a bad idea. I deserve some fun. I’ve been a great mom; I’ve been an exemplary public servant. And now, I need this. I need a good man’s strong hands on me. I need him to handle me. I need him to wreck me. And I need to disregard the fact that ten minutes ago, this man was subject to a half-assed inquiry based on a false complaint.

  The coincidence is still too shocking to ignore, and so is the white-hot attraction that seems to have never gone away.