Snowed Under (Roadside Attractions Book 7) Read online

  I deserve this moment.

  The kissing and groping is quickly turning from PG-13 to R-rated, and I, for some reason, don’t even care that this is a somewhat public space.

  The need is too strong like we are two horny peas in a pod. And yet, the way the fingers of his other hand play with my ponytail is endearing at the same time. I remember this from that night years ago: the man is intense and sweet and playful all at once. Teasing and claiming and working me up every possible way. How can one simple small-town guy know all the facets of a woman—the woman that needs to be treasured, the woman who needs to be handled and claimed, the woman who needs to be adored? My body is lit up like the Christmas trees outside.

  Pretty soon, my coat and blazer have been shoved down away from my shoulders, and Wyatt is fully molesting both of my tits through my silk camisole.

  When we next pull away from the kiss, he looks totally consumed. His jaw ticks, his nostrils flare like an angry bull, and his eyes are hooded.

  “What is it, Wyatt?”

  Without a word, he backs me up against that giant ball of yarn and presses a deep, hungry kiss to my lips. I might be drooling. And, I’m trapped. My body likes being trapped by him, his tongue demanding, his hands owning. He kisses in a slow line up my jaw to my ear. He teases the shell of my ear while one hand drags down my body and stops, right between my thighs. “Sheriff, my knees are gonna give out if you keep that up,” I say, more breathily than intended.

  I hear the smile in his voice. “How about you keep calling me that while I make you come, baby girl. I promise I’ll catch you if you get wobbly.”

  “You filthy son of a bitch, I’m in.”

  He laughs, then teases my ear while his knuckles rub me through my trousers.

  Oh my god. The thought crosses my mind that I’m wearing Spanx under these things.

  “Ah,” I start, but he’s already unzipped me and found my shaping undergarment. “About that.”

  His hand tugs at the stiff waistband. “What’s this?”

  I bite my lip. “It’s just ah…a little tummy control. They’re a pain to work around, so I understand if you want to stop—“

  Oh, no. He does not wish to stop.

  “Come on; you think these little old things are getting in my way?”

  Lord almighty. The man tugs and shoves, and soon he’s gliding his palm across my lower belly.

  A wicked smile crosses his lips while his palm warms my skin. “Tummy control, my ass,” he whispers, his hand lowering, his greedy fingers reaching my split. “This is mine to control, baby girl.”

  I should tell him there’s no way in hell I’m a baby girl at my age, but I have no words left. All I know, and all I can feel are his magic hands, rooting around, opening my folds, and thumbing my clit.

  I moan as my whole body twitches at this contact. His hands are going to make me buck and scream with little effort. I’m about to make a complete fool of myself, giving away how thoroughly needy my body is at the moment. I angle my face up for a kiss, and he delivers one that sends my muscles clamping around the middle finger that he’s just sunk into my cunt.

  “How nice and wet you are. Are you gonna make a mess of me?”

  All I can do is moan and ride his hand, feeling the ache as one finger, then two, penetrate and stretch me. His thumb works over my aching clit, and it doesn’t take long.

  I come apart, squeezing my eyes tight shut, aware that he’s watching every muscle in my face.

  “Call me ‘sheriff,’” he rumbles through gritted teeth, not letting up his demands on my clit. His two fingers inside me curl up and make contact with that sensitive spot. This draws out an explosion from every nerve in my body. It’s too much and not enough at the same time.

  My muscles grip his stroking fingers as I come undone in waves, squirting and soaking him. “I’m coming, Sheriff. Oh my god, I’m coming so hard.”

  “Good girl,” he rasps, and I can practically feel how hard he is just by the tremor in his voice.

  Just then, I hear a strange sound. A creak, a moan, something shifting…and then the percussion of something large hitting the floor.

  “What…”

  Wyatt’s eyes widen, and he yanks me close, slamming me against his hard chest. “Shit,” he blurts out.

  I turn my head to the side and see what’s happened.

  We’ve lost control of ourselves so badly that the ball of yarn has fallen off its base and is now rolling across the floor.

  He laughs, kisses me on the head, and helps me put myself back together, then moves toward the rolling behemoth to catch it as it rolls toward the far wall. “Be right back.”

  I pull on my coat, sensing now that the moment has come to an end most unexpectedly. I follow him as he follows the ball, fully expecting to help him move the thing back on its base.

  But then, the ball seems to have a mind of its own. It bounces against a wall switch, bounces, and angles 45 degrees in the other direction. The loading door opens. The ball spins out the door and down the ramp before we can get in front of it.

  The World’s Largest Ball of Yarn rolls away into the night.

  “Oh. Fuck.”

  Chapter Six

  Wyatt

  “Sheriff? Everything okay?”

  That’s Cash squawking on the radio as I run down the street, trying to catch up to the goddamn world’s largest ball of yarn, Lucy, coming up right behind me.

  “That’s a negative,” I reply.

  “Roger, I’m out here on patrol, and I’m seeing you and the yarn ball headed down Main?”

  “You are correct. Gonna need backup.”

  “Copy.”

  I should be embarrassed, but that can wait. Cash knows by now to expect the unexpected from me.

  I should have skipped the tour and invited Lucy to my house for dinner like a sane human being. Why can’t I just be normal?

  No time to self-analyze now. I have a public humiliation and a weather emergency to manage.

  Running parallel down Ivy Street as the ball careens down the incline of Main, Lucy and I gain ground with the rolling behemoth. The ball brushes past some shrubbery along the courthouse sidewalk that slows it down before it continues its skidding, sliding, and bouncing journey down Main. It’s as if it has a mind of its own and is auditioning for the Olympic figure skating team. Lucy and I are not quite as graceful, our boots scrambling and slipping in the snow and ice.

  Now, I’m not sure how we will stop the ball without getting injured.

  “Stay out of the way, Lucy!”

  “I’m trying to help you!”

  This exchange is not unlike our days of running the obstacle course at the academy, but now is not the best time to point that out.

  “Stay there!” I cut across the courthouse lawn to head off the ball at the pass.

  When we finally manage to get in front of it in the middle of Main, I brace myself for impact.

  “What are you doing? That thing is going to roll right over you!” Lucy shouts.

  “Nah,” is the scholarly argument that I offer in reply.

  “Stubborn ass,” she mutters, catching up to me just as the giant yellow ball hurtles towards us. Both of us lean forward, aiming to slow the forward momentum of the yellow terror. But both of our feet slide on the ice, and our collective not-so-immovable object meets our match with the unstoppable force of my town’s pride and joy.

  And Lucy and I are taken down.

  “Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I groan as the giant ball of yarn steamrolls right over us, pressing us into the snow like unwitting snow angels.

  I take a moment to check on Lucy because I think it sounds like she’s crying.

  But she’s not crying. She’s laughing.

  “Oh my god, we are idiots.”

  The mayor must think this moment calls for an extra dose of humiliation, because he chooses that moment to bound over and lick my face with that wet Golden Retriever tongue of his.

 
“Thanks, Flash. I appreciate that,” I grumble.

  I scramble to my feet and reach down to help Lucy up. But her laughter intensifies, which makes me laugh, and I can’t help it. No matter how much strength training I do to keep myself in shape for this job of protecting my town, I lose complete control when I’m laughing.

  “Ouch, my knees,” she says.

  “Mine aren’t as springy as they used to be either, baby.”

  We slip and slide some more, both of us laughing, ass down in the snow.

  Our laughter subsides when we hear a racket down the street.

  When we’re both finally upright again, we see what’s happened. Rex, Danny, Cash, and my second off-duty deputy, Noah, have created a barricade with their trucks, stopping the ball from rolling any farther. The three men are working together to load the ball into the bed of Rex’s flatbed tow truck.

  Lucy and I run over to help.

  “Sheriff,” Cash says, nodding politely, though I can see the confused look on his face.

  Rex, who is most familiar with my scrapes, barks, “Where’s your patrol car?”

  I rub the back of my neck and admit the truth. “Back at the station. Lucy and I decided to take a walk in the snow, and I wanted to show her the visitors’ center, and then that damn thing came off its base and rolled right out the door.” I shrug innocently, but Rex ain’t buying it.

  He squints at me and seems to be able to read my thoughts. “Seriously.”

  I look over at Lucy, whose hands cover her beet-red face.

  Danny has no clue what has just transpired, and neither do Cash or Noah, other than the basic facts of the story I just shared.

  Rex nods, then grunts. “I think we got it from here.”

  After helping everyone set the yarn ball back on its stand, there’s a moment of awkwardness. More people have come out of their houses to see what’s happening. Word has spread, and soon, everyone in town wants to know exactly how this happened.

  “How in the Sam Hill does a ball of yarn wander off?” Ernestine wants to know.

  “That thing was headed straight for my store window. Who was going to pay for that?” Ursula, the pharmacist, is not amused.

  I can’t say as I blame any one of them for wanting to know how it happened and how we’re going to prevent it from happening in the future. I don’t suppose they’ll buy the story that it was a freak accident.

  But the most pressing matter is getting people back to their homes to hunker down because the storm is here now. This blowing snow is not charming anymore; it’s freezing our cheeks. Soon, everyone’s cars will be buried before they can drive back home.

  Hopping up to the visitor’s center ramp,

  Cash hands me his megaphone. “I want to thank everyone who came out to help and everyone else for your concern. The yarn ball is secure now, and I want everyone to go to their homes and get ready for this storm. The National Weather Service has issued a severe warning for this whole area, and you need to get home before the roads are impassable. Now, if anyone is without heat or electricity, I want you to call the helpline at my office, do not call 9-1-1. We will set up an emergency shelter at the school gymnasium….”

  After everyone has cooperated — most of whom are unsatisfied over the lack of explanations regarding the night’s events — it’s time to get Lucy warm and dry. Cash gives us a ride back to the station in his patrol car. I send him home despite his objections.

  “There’s nothing else for you to do but go home and hunker down. I’ll radio you if there’s an emergency, but as far as I can tell, there won’t be anything to do until the wind lets up and we can start digging cars out of ditches.”

  With that sorted, I escort Lucy through the office and down the hall.

  “Sorry to tell you, you’re not going back to Gold Hill to look for a hotel room tonight. You’re stuck here with me until this storm passes, young lady.”

  Lucy doesn’t argue. “Who said I wasn’t going to like this?”

  Well, now, this snowstorm just got a lot more interesting.

  Chapter Seven

  Lucy

  Despite ordering everyone to stay home, Wyatt is set on going back out there to gather supplies. But not before laying one back-bending kiss on me.

  “I just want you to know I’m sorry for that fiasco, but I’m not sorry about how it happened. Make yourself at home, and I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he says. The glint in his eye tells me he’s happy I’m stuck here tonight.

  “I don’t suppose you’ll let me go with you,” I say, knowing full well my trousers are soaked through from our tumble in the snow.

  “Absolutely not. Stay here and warm up.”

  Another intoxicating kiss, and he’s out the door.

  The first thing I do is unpack my travel bag and warm up with a hot shower. Wyatt’s old house badly needs updating, but I manage to figure out the shower controls. I’m just a little sad that there’s no room for two adults to shower together. Not that I think that would be necessary, but it would be wise to preserve hot water.

  I pull on a pair of joggers and a cozy long-sleeve tee-shirt. I reconsider this frumpy look, but I’m going for comfort, not necessarily seduction. Wyatt doesn’t need any encouragement in that area. I pull on a pair of wool socks, then find the kitchen to make some tea.

  With a warm mug in my hands, I explore all the rooms. It’s a simple place, a bachelor’s place, and it could use some major updating of its early 20th-century fixtures, but it’s not too bad.

  Built-in bookshelves surround a small brick fireplace in the living room. I poke through some books, DVDs, and vinyl, smiling at his tastes.

  I wish…

  What do I wish? That I’d come back here to this podunk town in my twenties, married him, and had babies? Not exactly. That I’d started a long-distance book club with the man? No…so what would have been the answer?

  Taking out my phone to shoot a text to Sidney to let her know what’s going on, I see I have another text from my anonymous “friend.”

  Sigh. You missed the last flight out. Guess I’ll have to bide my time. The sunshine misses you.

  This is not good.

  First, I send off my info to Sidney, and then I send screencaps of the latest text to everyone, including Agent Spade in D.C., and my partner, Robert.

  Funny. I enjoyed a sweet couple of hours when I had forgotten all about these anonymous texts. I felt relaxed and carefree and in the moment. Now, I’m starting to feel on edge again.

  I send another text to Sidney. Are you staying at Elizabeth’s until I’m home or just the weekend?

  My girl is too bright for me. Why, what’s going on?

  Nothing to worry about. I just don’t want you alone.

  She sends back a thumbs up. No problem. Elizabeth and her parents say I can stay as long as I want. We might all go walk Bal Harbour tomorrow if it ever stops raining.

  Sidney knows the drill. Usually, I don’t have to lock her down so tight unless I’m working on organized crime cases, but better safe than sorry.

  Wait, it’s raining there?

  Yeah, why? she texts back.

  The creep said the sunshine misses me. Maybe he was just speaking in generalities. Even so, I don’t like this.

  I text her back. It’s probably nothing, which over the years has become our code for “I can’t tell you what’s going on because it’s related to an investigation.”

  After saying goodbye to Sid, I retreat deeper into the house, away from windows.

  Wyatt returns to find me wrapped in a blanket on his bed with the door closed, reading one of his dog-eared biographies.

  He’s like a kid, excited to show me everything he’s picked up. An endless array of snacks, as well as takeout and a box of teabags from Ruby’s. A filled growler from Other Brother Ben’s Brewery. Blankets from the yarn store.

  My stomach growls at the aroma of a hot home-cooked meal, so I follow him into the kitchen and set the table while he unboxes everything. br />
  “I didn’t know what you liked to eat, so I got chicken sandwiches. If you don’t eat meat, there are fries, soup, and a veggie burger.”

  “You did too much, Wyatt.”

  He shrugs. “Everyone was getting ready to close up shop, so they just threw food they already made at me. Not a big deal.”

  I have a feeling it was more than that. By the sheer amount of supplies everyone has loaded him down with, I can see that they think very highly of him. It makes me honored to know him for more than a one-night stand. I feel a little sad, too, that we are about to do it all over again and go our separate ways.

  But maybe, somehow, we don’t have to?

  Wyatt catches me staring and smiles. “What’s going on with you?”

  The wobble in my voice is embarrassing. Most likely, I’m high strung due to that anonymous text. “I missed you.” And then, tears.

  He turns to me. “Whoa, sweetheart, what’s with the waterworks?”

  Wyatt wraps me up in another heart-warming bear hug, which squeezes out more emotion from me. “I don’t know. Orgasms make me emotional.” An involuntary sob comes out, combined with laughter at myself.

  He pets my hair. “It’s okay. Everything is going to be okay.”

  Sniffling, I want to look up at him, but I don’t want him to see my mascara running. So I let my voice stay muffled in his jacket. “Here’s the problem. I don’t want another one-night stand. And while I should have said that sooner, I think now is a good time to tell you that if this goes any further, physically, I’m going to get even more attached than I already am.”

  All Wyatt says now is “Lucy,” in a quiet, low voice. “Lucy. I owe you an apology. I would never have asked to kiss you if I thought this was something even close to a one-night stand.”

  What did he just say? My stomach rolls over, but not from hunger. It’s from that tentative, aching hope. At the same time, I have to tell myself not to read into anything he says, like a teenager parsing out the meaning of every single word.

  I pull back slightly so I can dab my eyes and nose. I inhale shakily.