INTO THE FALL

Whisper Ridge, Wyoming - Book 4

RJ SCOTT

Into the Fall - Whisper Ridge Wyoming #4

Copyright ©2024 RJ Scott

Cover design by Meredith Russell. Edited by Sue Laybourn.

Published by Love Lane Books Limited

ISBN: 9781785644757

All Rights Reserved

This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission. This book cannot be copied in any format, sold, or otherwise transferred from your computer to another through upload to a file sharing peer-to-peer program, for free or for a fee. Such action is illegal and in violation of Copyright Law.

All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

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Into the Fall

In small-town Wyoming, a tough sheriff and a former Navy SEAL are thrown together by circumstance. Their fiery chemistry leads to constant clashes, but as they work to solve a mystery, they can't ignore the growing feelings between them.

Sheriff Neil Windham has one mission: to protect Whisper Ridge. But when human remains surface at the Lennox Ranch, the town’s past comes back to haunt it. As Neil dives deeper into the investigation, he’s torn between his duty, his father’s declining health, and the fire ignited by the relentless, unpredictable former Navy SEAL, Connor Mason.

Connor didn’t come to Whisper Ridge looking for trouble—or a future. He never intended to fall in love, least of all with someone like Neil. But with every heated encounter, Neil and Connor’s attraction escalates into something undeniable, a force of nature they can’t resist. Now, with an offer to rejoin his old team, Connor must choose between a future in Whisper Ridge or leaving behind the only man who’s ever made him feel like he belongs.

Into the Fall is an opposites-attract, enemies-to-lovers M/M romance featuring a battle-hardened former SEAL and a dedicated sheriff. Duty and desire collide, old ranch secrets come to light, and a hard-earned happily-ever-after awaits.

Dedication

Always for my family.

Chapter One

CONNOR

I braced myself as a gust of wind tried to take my feet from under me. I couldn’t believe I’d gotten talked into heading out into the most dramatic storm I’d witnessed since the team’s last Red Sea deployment. Not when I had a good book waiting in my apartment.

Thunder rumbled in the distance, and lightning split the sky, illuminating the town in brief, eerie flashes as the rain hammered the streets of Whisper Ridge, turning them into slick, glistening rivers.

I shouldn’t have been going out tonight.

I should’ve used the weather as a reason to stay in my lovely, cozy apartment, not headed up a damn mountain in this deluge for Quinn’s birthday party.

I locked the diner door, pulled my long coat jacket tight, and headed towards my SUV. The relentless downpour muffled all other sounds as my boots splashed through the puddles.

“Connor Mason!” The furious yell cut through the rain as Sheriff Neil Windham—six feet of sexy, blustering, temper-driven man—blocked my way. His face was a thundercloud matching the sky, and my adrenaline spiked when he bunched his fists. I thought for a moment he was going to slam me to the ground.

I’d been waiting all day for him to challenge me, but the party and the storm had derailed my concentration, and here I was caught on the back foot, in the rain, and there he was, a man filled with rage. This was a definite step up from his typical sarcastic irritation with me, straight to DEFCON 1—the kind of anger that made me brace for impact and reach for a weapon I wasn’t even carrying.

I’d been expecting this visit all day. Still, I was hoping the confrontation would happen when it was dry.

In my apartment.

In my bedroom.

Preferably naked and post-sex.

My pulse quickened, not just from anticipating a confrontation but from something deeper, something hidden where all my secrets lay. I couldn’t explain my visceral reaction to this intense man, but I craved his sharp tongue pulling me up on any and all chaos I had caused. My therapist would have a field day analyzing my brain—if I ever went back to therapy. She’d tell me I craved all his attention, even if it was negative, and probably go deep into why I loved pushing his buttons. Facing Neil head-on was a challenge that sparked something deep inside me. I lived for these moments when Neil was angry and when his presence in my space made me feel something.

Not that I ever told him that. I pushed and pushed, and when he snapped, I soaked up his passionate temper and loved every freaking moment of it because he made me feel…

Alive.

I squared my shoulders, ready to meet whatever he was bringing in the madness of the storm.

“Tell me you didn’t threaten Abraham Wild!” The fury in his tone was like catnip.

Rain dripped from the brim of my cap, and I pulled up the hood of my coat—not that it helped, given it wasn’t completely waterproof. “I didn’t threaten Abraham Wild.”

I did.

“Witnesses tell me you took his gun from him and shoved him to the ground.”

“He had a rifle, yeah, I disarmed him, but he was drunk and about to fall over anyway.”

“You took his gun and assaulted him.”

“He tripped,” I replied, raising my voice to be heard over another rumble of thunder.

“I don’t have time for your shit!” Neil’s eyes blazed with anger; his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “You told him that if he didn’t stop waving his gun, then you’d shove the gun up his ass.”

“Yep, that was me. Now, are you mad I said that, that he tripped, or that there were witnesses?”

A muscle in his jaw ticked, and I could see him reining in his temper. “He’s accusing you of being armed.”

I tapped my lip in exaggerated thought. “Well, I was armed after I took his rifle.”

“Give me strength.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and swiped away a face full of water.

I snorted a laugh, then spread my hands wide, a smirk playing at the corners of my mouth. “Anyway, you know I don’t need to carry.”

Neil’s glare was icy. “You took his gun⁠—”

“I emptied the chamber and gave it back to him.”

“You can’t just go around threatening people in my town. If you see something wrong, you call me.”

“I neutralized a threat. What could you have done that was any different?”

I saw the conflict in his eyes, the frustration of understanding his job’s limitations, and the temper riding his ass. We both knew Abraham Wild’s issues, but without a formal report, there was nothing the sheriff could do. Yeah, if I’d called Neil in his official capacity, then maybe there’d be something on record, but what if, in the meantime, Abraham had shot someone? Like his wife or that skinny kid with the braces who worked there after school.

No one dies on my watch.

Neil’s jaw tightened, and then he cursed. “You come to me, Connor. You don’t threaten him.”

I scoffed, crossing my arms. “So, you can write him a stern letter after the fact? A warning won’t stop him if the posturing and drinking escalates.”

“I know that family.”

“Do you?”

Neil’s eyes flashed with anger and frustration, maybe a hint of agreement that he didn’t know Abraham as well as he thought. Word in town was that Abraham had been fine until he’d lost his job and fell into what his wife called a midlife crisis, which seemed way too soft for the darkness surrounding him. He hadn’t hurt anyone—yet—but he was less likely to hurt someone without bullets.

Logic for the win.

Neil stepped so close I imagined I could feel the heat of his breath despite the chill of the rain. “You’re not the law here, Connor. I am. And you need to let me do my job.” It seemed he wanted to say more, and I waited, but his lips thinned.

I shook my head, exasperated. “People like Abraham need to know there are real consequences to waving a gun around.”

Neil’s expression hardened again, and he stepped back into the rain. “You’re lucky I don’t arrest you.”

Hell, as much as I respected Neil and his dedication to his job, I couldn’t just stand by and do nothing when people were being hurt. It must’ve killed him not to be able to take the man down.

“Do it then⁠—”

He swiped a hand between us, cutting the conversation dead. “No more wannabe heroics, no more theatrics, no putting yourself in front of a gun, Connor. No. More.”

A deluge of water spilled from where it had collected in the door canopy above, just about soaking us both, and I grabbed Neil’s arm, pulling him closer under the shelter. Not one forecaster had warned that this storm was going to throw the contents of a damn lake or gusts of wind down the mountain, but its snarling arrival matched the dark and desperate mood I’d been in all day. The scent of the thunderstorm lingered in the air—a heady mix of ozone and rain, earthy and electric, amplifying the tension between us, and the sudden proximity to Neil made my heart race. We were close enough to kiss. And damn it, but I wanted one taste of the irritable, yet sexy, sheriff. The tension between us was tangible, a mix of frustration, admiration, and something deeper that made me want to hold him and silence his shouting.

“Why are you doing this to me?” His eyes flicked to my lips for a split second, and I almost leaned in, tempted to steal that kiss I’d wanted for so long.

The storm raged around us. The rain was a relentless curtain that hid us, and every nerve in my body was alive with the possibility of what could happen next. This was the moment we’d kiss at last, hidden from the town, giving in to the spark of attraction. God, I could nearly taste him already⁠—

Neil stepped away, moving out into the rain. He marched across the road, heading straight for the sheriff’s office, his shoulders stiff with anger.

Disappointment made my stomach swoop, but I couldn’t help but call out, “Night, Sheriff!”

He ignored me, not even a glance back, and as he walked off, I couldn’t shake the feeling this argument was far from over. The tension between us had been thick enough to cut with a knife—unresolved lust on my part, a hefty dose of anger and disgust from him. I knew the tension between us wasn’t volatile frustration because I’d seen it in his expression.

Naked want and need.

The same as mine.

One day, I’d push him too far, and he’d grab me and show me what he wanted to do to me. Punch me, shake me, hurt me…

Kiss me.

One day I’d crack his stoic exterior, but tonight was not that night, and disappointment piled on top of the resentment because I didn’t want to be out in this rain anyway. I went from lustful and snarky to moody and pissed again.

I loved Whisper Ridge, working with Quinn’s foundation and running his security. I lusted after Sheriff Windham—Neil—and I actually loved storms if I was inside with a good book and a coffee.

I wished the high of confrontation and temper stayed, and that I didn’t feel so lost.

Fuck. How far do I need to push him to get what I want?

Chapter Two

NEIL

I’d almost kissed Connor.

I’d almost grabbed him and lost myself in a passionate kiss right there in the middle of town, crossing that final bridge between attraction and lust all because I was angrier than I’d ever been. He’d pushed me too damn far.

The tall, dark-haired, brown-eyed wannabe Superman had been a thorn in my side since he’d rolled into town. The first time, he’d visited as a PI on the hunt for people who didn’t want to be found. Then he’d come back, the next time working for our resident millionaire, Quinn. What was supposed to be a temporary stay had become a permanent fixture, much to my constant frustration, because he was chaos one moment and icy focus the next, and I didn’t know where I stood when I was with him.

I lacked control in everything to do with Connor Mason, and I hated it.

He was everywhere, getting involved with everything, from minor disputes to major incidents, and it seemed like every time I arrived at a scene, there he was, getting in the way. His intentions might have been good, trying to fix things and watch out for Quinn, but this was a quiet town with little crime, and his execution often left much to be desired. He was Rambo when situations called for diplomacy and a softer touch.

He was my nemesis in every possible way. Whenever I tried to handle a situation, he acted as if he were still on a mission in some foreign theater of war. He couldn’t let me do my job, often making things more complicated than they needed to be.

No, I didn’t need to arrest the kids who’d defaced the grocery store wall. I needed to work with families, the community, and their schools to develop plans to stop the defacing of private property.

No, I didn’t need to go in guns blazing to the shack on the far reaches of Lennox property when I knew from checking that it was just old man Browne who liked to spend weeks in isolation up there.

No, I had no grounds to take away Abraham Wild’s rifle—unassailable rights and all—unless I had actual grounds and witnesses.

Connor didn’t know Whisper Ridge like I did.

When the town faced a problem, he would dive in headfirst, sometimes without fully understanding the local dynamics or the best approach. It was maddening—his relentless need to fix things that didn’t need touching, his inability to stand down when it wasn’t his place, and my being stuck between upholding the law and managing the chaos he so often brought with him.

“Fuck,” I cursed loudly, kicking the fence. I compressed all my anger and lack of self-control into a small ball I could manage, breathing through the frustration.

And the lust.

It was infuriating to feel this way about someone who constantly got in my way and messed things up for law enforcement. The man was exasperating, yet the thought of him consumed me.

Touching him.

Kissing him.

More.

Lusting after Connor was a betrayal of my principles, a maddening twist of fate that left me questioning my judgment. How could I want someone who made my job more difficult, threw everything into disarray, and thought heading in with metaphorical guns blazing was always the right decision? I had a constant battle between my responsibilities as sheriff and the undeniable attraction simmering beneath the surface. Each encounter with Connor was a struggle to maintain control, focus on the job, and not act on the heat that flared whenever he was near.

Did I want him because he caused chaos?

Did I admire him?

“I don’t want to kiss him!” I added to the fence and then steeled myself to go inside.

My phone vibrated, and I yanked it out of my pocket—Mom.

“Is everything okay?” I answered instead of exchanging pleasantries.

Mom wasn’t the best at calling, more of a face-to-face talker, and I’d already checked on her and Dad when the storm started. Their house was sheltered, and last I knew, they were hunkering down for the night and taking things easy.

“Your dad…” she began. “Can you come?”

“What happened?”

“He’s in the yard and…” Mom sniffed, and I could hear the tears in her voice. “I tried, Neil. I’m so sorry.”

“I’ll be there in five,” I confirmed, then drove to them through the rain, reaching my parents’ place in less than five minutes.

The rain fell in sheets, and thunder rolled in the distance as I parked and then vaulted the small fence surrounding the property and went into the backyard. Dad was easy to spot in nothing more than pajamas, soaked to the bone, talking to the empty air. My heart sank as I slowed and sauntered over to him as if this were nothing out of the ordinary, taking off my coat and covering him up, the cold rain soaking my uniform instantly.

“Dad?” I shouted, trying to be heard over the storm.

He didn’t notice me or the coat over his shoulders, continuing to ramble.

“It was thundering, and I didn’t know what to do,” he said, trembling. “The lights went out, and everything was so dark. I couldn’t see… I couldn’t see anything.”

I placed a hand on his shoulder. “Dad, it’s okay. Let’s get you inside.”

He looked at me, confused, as if seeing me for the first time. “Neil? Why are you here? Why are you all wet? Where is your coat? Idiot boy!”

“We need to get inside,” I said, gently.

He resisted for a moment, his eyes searching the stormy sky. “But the lights … the lights went out.”

“We’ll take care of the lights once we get inside, okay? Come on, let’s go in,” I said, leading him back towards the house.

Mom met us at the door, her expression a mix of worry and relief. Together, we managed to get Dad into dry clothes and settled in front of the TV. He blinked at the screen, the confusion leaving his eyes as an old rerun of M*A*S*H played.

I sat next to him, trying to steady my racing heart. “Is this the one where Hawkeye and Trapper sneak a jeep into the camp?” I asked, hoping to anchor him with a familiar memory.

He stared at the screen, then back at me, his eyes clouded with uncertainty. “I don’t remember,” he said quietly, his voice tinged with sadness.

My chest tightened, but I forced a smile. “That’s okay, Dad. It’s a good one, though.”

“Why are you wet, Neil?” he asked again, glancing at me with genuine bewilderment.

“Got caught in the rain, Dad. It’s all good now,” I replied, squeezing his shoulder. I headed upstairs, swapped out the wet uniform for a spare one I’d left at their house in my old room, bundled up the wet one for laundering back at mine, and then headed downstairs.

Mom and I exchanged a glance, locking the doors to prevent any more nighttime wanderings. “I meant to lock the back door,” she said.

“I know, Mom.”

“Thank you, Neil,” she whispered, her eyes reflecting her gratitude and exhaustion.

I nodded, giving her a quick hug. “Call me if you need anything.”

As I drove back to the office, my mind was split between the storm outside, the chaos at home, the unknown waiting for me at work, and Connor. I still couldn’t forget Connor.

It was going to be another long night.

As I walked into the sheriff’s office, Solomon was waiting with a pinched expression, and I was getting a headache. Solomon Wild had been with the department longer than I’d been alive, even working with my dad when he was sheriff. He was a good, honest, hardworking guy, but he was also Abraham’s brother, which complicated all the family dynamics.

If only Connor had left things alone.

I was dealing with it all and had the situation under control. I’d spoken to Abraham’s wife. I was working with the family, putting things in place to help Abraham look for work and getting him to see a counselor, and then Connor had to get involved.

Connor was protecting Lucy Wild, stepping up for her against a husband shouting at her. Drunk. Dangerous.

Connor was trying to be a hero.

“Evening, sheriff,” Solomon greeted, his voice heavy with concern.

“Evening, Solomon,” I replied. “Reports on the storm?”

“Two trees blocking the corner of Elm and Aston, minor flooding, and Emmet Carson’s car is stuck in the middle of Locust Tree brook after flash flooding. Wyatt’s on scene with Engine 11. Lewis is cut off from town after the creek broke its banks, but he’s making his way in as best he can, only it will be a while.”

“Tell Lewis to take care getting around the mountain.” My senior deputy was only a short while from retirement, and the last thing I wanted was for him to get washed away.

“Will do. He says not to worry. Uhmm… We’ve had reports of rumbling on the west side, possible landslide. That’s it for the storm.” He took a deep breath, and I braced myself for the rest of what I knew was coming. The connection to Abraham through my dispatcher made everything so complicated. It was a tightrope walk between duty and personal ties, wearing on both of us.

Solomon didn’t waste any time. “I heard about the latest incident with Abraham,” he said in a low voice. “I wanted to reassure you that Lucy’s fine, and she wants to thank Connor for stepping in. Abraham won’t be pressing charges.”

“Connor’s an idiot,” I muttered.

“That’s as may be, but Abe isn’t doing so well, and he knows he crossed a line. He’s sobering up, and I’ll check in on him later tonight. Lucy’s at ours, and my wife is looking after her.” He said all this in a rush, his embarrassment and anger evident.

I nodded, and relief washed over me. Lucy and Abraham married forty years ago and had two grown kids who had moved away. I’d never had any trouble with that family until Abe had lost his job, hit the bottle hard, and then had a DUI, which I’d had to pull him up on. His life had spiraled, and he needed to get his pride back and be in control. “I’m glad to hear that.”

Solomon shook his head, frustration etched into his features and his eyes filled with sorrow and determination. Then he got all concerned. “And your dad? Your mom called here first.”

“He’s okay,” was all I would give him, and I changed the subject. “So, talking of Emmett and his car, he said he had part-time work at the garage and thought Abe might be a good match.”

“He sure would.”

“Okay, I want to speak to Lucy tomorrow. I’ll visit her at your house. Get Abe to come in and make a statement.” I pinched the bridge of my nose and closed my eyes briefly, my headache worsening.

Solomon rifled in his desk drawer and handed me Tylenol and a bottle of water. I swallowed the pills, hoping they worked fast. I needed a miracle to clear my head because this storm was fierce, running through town, trapped behind the mountain, leaving chaos in its wake, and I was over it already.

With a final nod, I headed to my office, my mind still swirling with the night’s events. The storm outside seemed a fitting backdrop for the disorder inside. Connor’s words echoed in my head, his frustration and anger mingling with mine. The town of Whisper Ridge was my responsibility. With the cost-of-living crisis hitting town, local politics, developers pricing out locals for housing, and the recent scandal involving Pastor McKenna, plus a new deputy, I felt as if I was holding my life and career together with sheer willpower alone.

Then there was Connor.

Sitting at my desk, I couldn’t help but think about the man and his determination to protect, his stubbornness, his … everything. He was infuriating, but he also had a point. Sometimes, the system wasn’t enough. Sometimes, you had to take matters into your own hands.

But I had to find a balance. Even when it seemed impossible, I had to be the law in this town. I also had to deal with my feelings for Connor and our unresolved tension.

For now, though, I needed to focus on keeping Whisper Ridge safe, one storm at a time.

Chapter Three

CONNOR

The storm pounded my car, and gusts of rain and wind slammed against the windshield of my SUV. The wipers were working overtime to keep up. It felt like a mission, pushing through the downpour to get to the Lennox Ranch. Normally, I’d relish a good storm, the action-adventure side of me battling the elements—but tonight was different because the destination wasn’t some rescue or a mission; it was Quinn’s birthday, and there was no getting out of it. Not when Quinn wasn’t just my boss but was also a friend. Not only that, but Connor, his warnings, and the almost-kiss made me restless, and my skin felt tight with need.

“Fuck my life,” I muttered, then glanced at the gift bag on the passenger seat. Inside was the mug I’d bought in a last-minute panic: World’s Shittiest Boss. The Shittiest part was my little addition, a weak attempt at humor. What do you get a millionaire who could buy himself anything he wanted? A joke mug seemed safer than another bottle of whiskey or yet another piece of tech I’d set him up with as part of my job to keep him safe and out of the eye of the media.

The Lennox Ranch came into view through the sheets of rain. On a summer’s day, it was a warm, inviting ranch house, the kind of place that screamed family and history, and in the winter, it was lit up like one of those Christmas houses full of candles. Rachel was organizing Quinn’s birthday tonight. Hence, the event was in the main ranch house, not my boss’s and his husband’s place, which is a quarter mile up the mountain. Quinn and Levi spent time in the main ranch house with the people they called family and were so damn happy.

I’m not jealous.

I don’t need people.

Yet, here I was, heading into all that found family, the outsider, the lone wolf without a pack. My SEAL team had long since scattered, my family wanted nothing to do with me, my cousin—the only one who continued to speak to me after I’d come out—was gone, and the concept of slipping into life at the Lennox Ranch as Quinn had done was alien to me.

“You’re being fucking stupid,” I told myself, and the empty car and the mug on the seat, as a powerful gust of wind rocked the SUV, making it slip on the gravel from one side of the road to the other. Even four-wheel drive wasn’t keeping me in a straight line, and I frowned at the heads-up screen where the scarlet of the storm still hovered over Whisper Ridge.

I wished the storm was a person I could take down. After feeling so drawn to Neil and seeing him walk away again, I mightn’t have felt so antsy if I had control over something like the elements in my life.

Yeah, it’s the storm that’s making me antsy, not my reluctance at being forced to socialize.

Or Sheriff Sexy cutting me dead.

Shake it off.

As Quinn’s security guy, I had a stable career and rented my own place in town over the diner. But lately, I’d been feeling restless, and I put it down to one of two things. The first was when one of my old SEAL team colleagues, Zach, reached out. He’d been up in Canada on some mission and part of a covert team, and he’d approached me to ask if I wanted in. Being part of a team again was tempting as long as I didn’t recall the nomadic lifestyle, but I wasn’t sure if I was ready to leave this life behind. The crossroads were clear, but the path wasn’t.

The second was that I hadn’t gotten laid in three months. Or six.

No, wait, Christmas. Shit. Ten months.

Shit. Ten months of using my right hand was why I was antsy. That was my excuse, and I was sticking to it. It had nothing to do with the one man I wanted and couldn’t have who simultaneously rocked my world, kept me at arm’s length, and spent every moment we interacted shutting me down or being angry with me.

Sheriff Neil freaking Windham and his gorgeous blue eyes that sparked fire whenever he saw me, and his soft dark hair, and his body… I was spending too much time thinking about him and not about what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. But had that been a nearly-kiss? Had he actually leaned toward me?

“Stop fucking moping,” I warned myself. “Normal-everyday-Sheriff is not interested in messed-up-former-SEAL with commitment issues.”

I’m a badass SEAL who can handle a storm, rejection from a sexy sheriff, and do one stupid party all in the same night.

I parked the SUV and took a deep breath. My exit strategy was planned: stay for cake, mingle just enough to be polite, and then slip out quietly. Years of training had made me good at disappearing when I needed to.

The front door opened before I knocked, and Noah stood there with a wide grin. “Con, you made it!”

Given I lived over the diner Noah owned and ran, and I hadn’t been able to escape being told I was coming, how surprised could he be?

He smirked. “Come on in. You’re just in time for cake.”

I’d seen the cake Noah had been working on this week, a towering confection of chocolate he was so proud of.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” I lied, stepping inside and shaking off the rain in the entry. The warmth of the house hit me, along with the aroma of home-cooked food. The vast kitchen-diner held a loud group of people, laughter and conversation filling the air. Finn’s family and friends were all familiar faces, but there was no one I wanted to stand around chatting to.

The door had barely closed behind me when a small, energetic whirlwind collided with my legs. Laurie, Quinn’s ten-year-old nephew, had tracked me down, as usual. His eyes sparkled with excitement as he stared up at me, clutching a notebook to his chest. He loved art and was skilled at drawing, never far from a sketchbook and pencils.

“Connor! I’ve got something to show you!” Laurie’s voice was a mix of excitement and admiration.

“Hey, kid,” I said, ruffling his hair. “What’s got you so hyped up?”

“I made a cartoon book!” Laurie flipped open his notebook, revealing a detailed drawing of a Navy SEAL action adventure. “Look! I made this. It’s about a Navy SEAL called Connor, who has to rescue a hostage from a secret base under the well in our barn. Isn’t it cool?”

A SEAL called Connor? I glanced over the drawings of a tall, dark-haired man who looked suspiciously like me, and the meticulous planning he’d put into his story.

“Is that me?”

“Sure is,” Archie announced from his side. Where Laurie was, Archie was never far away. Closer than brothers, they were the light and life of Lennox Ranch, and I loved their absolute focus on cartoons, art, horses, and having fun.

Although enthusiastic exploring had led to Laurie getting trapped down a well, and that was maybe pushing fun too far. You’d better believe that well was concreted tight now.

I bent down to talk closer to Laurie’s ear. “You’re not going anywhere near the well, right?”

He went scarlet, as did Archie.

“No, sir,” they chorused and stood to attention.

I chuckled. “At ease.”

They both relaxed before I returned to checking out the strip.

“It’s awesome, right?” Archie asked. “Like really good.” He was so proud of his best friend’s work.

“Sure thing, buddy. Laurie’s got a real talent for making strips.”

Laurie’s face went more red. “Do you really think so?”

“Absolutely,” I said, genuinely impressed. “Tell me more about this mission,” I prompted. Anything to avoid talking to the adults

Laurie launched into the details. Was it wrong that I felt more at home talking about comic adventures with a ten-year-old kid than I would when I was forced to make small talk? Maybe. But in that moment, with Laurie and Archie beaming up at me, it didn’t matter.

I was gutted when Rachel called time on our chat and encouraged everyone over for cake, which lured the boys from my side. I stuck to my plan, hanging around behind Noah until the massive chocolate cake was cut and served, and we did the whole happy birthday singing thing. I had a slice, complimented Noah’s baking, and edged toward the door.

As I moved, I caught snippets of conversation about old times, new ventures, and plans for the future, and it all felt a world away from my current limbo. Not that I wasn’t happy—nope, I was settled, had a roof over my head, and wasn’t having bad dreams anymore. Yeah, I was a little lonely, particularly since Quinn had married Levi, and they’d moved to their new place. He didn’t need my stringent security. He didn’t want it, but I was still in charge of his team.

His team consisted of me and his best friend, Molly, who maintained the social media side of Quinn’s charitable foundations.

“You’re not leaving, right?”

I stopped dead and faced the man himself, Quinn staring up at me, his lips in a perfect pout, his pink hair soft and fluffy, and his eyes rimmed with kohl.

“I just need to … y’know.”

He shoved at my chest, this itty-bitty man who couldn’t push me if he tried. “You’re escaping the party, and I know it.”

“I just…” What? What could I say about Quinn’s extended family? Just that it was his and not mine, however friendly everyone was, and however much I loved talking to Laurie and Archie. My family was what I’d made when I’d joined the Navy—my parents out of my life. My former team was growing smaller with each death, and my cousin Natalie, more like a sister after my parents had done the whole disowning-because-I-was-queer thing, was dead.

Quinn was about the only person I could call family, but even being with him didn’t make me feel like hanging around.

“Jesus, Con, you look so serious. Go, I’m just teasing,” Quinn announced as he pulled me in for a hug, which I leaned into, complete with back pats.

Quinn was tactile, and I might not be that way inclined, but it felt right with Quinn all happy in my arms. I opened the door, and the sound of the torrential downpour and heavy storm was deafening, with the relentless pounding of the rain on the roof and windows creating a constant roar. I stepped outside when the ground shook.

A screech of wind tore through the air, followed by a crack of thunder so powerful it made the door vibrate. The earth moved with a sudden, terrifying force, a deep, rumbling growl that grew louder, almost like a freight train barreling toward me. The ground beneath my feet began to tremble, then shift, as if the very earth was being torn apart. The noise was deafening—a chaotic mix of crashing rocks, snapping trees, and the relentless roar of water. I felt the vibration through my boots, the earth shuddering and sliding, shifting in a violent, unstoppable wave.

I dropped into a crouch to steady myself.

What the fuck?

Levi shouted behind me, and I glanced back to see him talking fast and low to Micah, both shrugging on coats as others joined us—Scott checking his phone. What had I missed?

“What’s up?” I asked because whatever they had going on might be an excuse to get me out of there and into some action.

“Landslide,” Micah announced.

“Need to check,” Levi muttered, and Micah nodded as if they’d had a complete conversation.

“Flash flood,” Levi added.

I headed straight to the pile of ranch wear in the boot room, snagging the largest coat right from the rack, zipping and buttoning as Micah’s husband, Daniel, and his brothers joined us, Noah not far behind, wearing slickers. It seemed like this was an all-hands-on-deck situation, mainly when Quinn made to follow us outside.

I blocked him. “No fucking way, you need to stay here, Quinn⁠—”

“Don’t you stop me,” Quinn warned.

The last thing I wanted was for him to put himself in danger, but then again, he had me right alongside him.

“Then you stay right next to me,” I snapped, and he rolled his eyes.

“Okay, listen up,” Levi spoke over both of them. “The second stream broke its banks yesterday.” He gestured toward the looming Wind River mountain range. “We were expecting the storm to hit us again tonight. It’s mostly the west side of the property at risk, but the natural barrier stones from the last landslide have moved. We did what we could today, but they never told us the storm would stick here…” He shook his head and pinched the top of his nose, clearly worried about what to get the rest of us doing.

The place emptied. The only ones staying behind were Chris, Rachel, and the kids. Chris because there was no way he could get up the mountain after a recent operation on his hip, and Rachel only stayed after her husband Scott reminded her that the kids were scared and, oh yes, she was pregnant. Rachel went scarlet, and given the stunned silence from everyone else, this was news to them all.

Micah gasped and went to hug his sister, but she shoved him away.

“No time for that!” she said with an eye roll. “Get out there.”

“I’ll call 911!” Chris called after us.

I glanced back at Laurie, Archie, and little Oliver with Rachel. We were leaving vulnerable people here, and I hated that.

“The house is okay, right?” I asked Micah. “You want me to get them into town?”

“It’s all good,” he managed, but whatever he added was lost as the wind carried our voices away.

We leaned into it and headed up from the ranch. An overhang protected the house, and deep channels redirected water from it to a pond and runoff below. Also, whatever danger we were heading to was a thirty-minute stumble-run-hike up a loose graveled path, slipping and sliding on the streams rushing downhill.

The wind howled through the trees like a wild beast. Now more of a torrent, the violent waters shoved the rocks from a previous landslip. Beams of flashlights converged on one spot, a hole carved into the side of the mountain, land drifting from the weight of the rain, destroying what I knew was a natural boulder wall created from the last landslip here over thirty years ago.

“Shit!” Levi shouted over the rain. “Move these rocks!”

We all worked together to shift what we could, to form another barrier against the torrent of water, but the ground beneath us rumbled. The sound was unsettling—a low vibration of moving earth rocked us all.

“It’s moving! Run!”

Panic surged through us as everyone scattered. The earth split beneath our feet, a terrifying crack that echoed in the storm. I lost sight of Quinn amidst the chaos then heard him yell. My heart pounded as Micah grabbed me, and I watched Levi stumble over the sliding mud, but he was too far away to get to Quinn.

Without thinking, I sprinted over chasms and through rushing water, my boots skidding on the mud-slicked debris. The landslide was a cacophony around me, but I focused on my mission.

“Quinn!” I shouted; my voice barely audible over the roar. He turned, eyes wide with fear and confusion. I didn’t waste a second. I reached him as the ground beneath his feet gave way.

Grabbing his arm, I tugged him with all my strength, yanking him from the collapsing earth as the edge crumbled into a dark, churning void.

“Get back!” I yelled, shoving him away from the danger zone with every ounce of muscle I had.

Quinn stumbled to safety, but as I pushed him away, the hole opened up, and I was swallowed. I clawed at the collapsing earth, trying to find anything to hold on to as mud filled my mouth, the taste bitter and suffocating, my grip faltering as the force of the landslide pulled me down.

Time seemed to slow, and the noise around me was a blur of chaos and destruction. I hit rocks and debris, pain shooting through me, but I focused on survival, on clawing my way back to the surface. At the point my strength began to wane, a hand grabbed my wrist, yanking me upward.

Gasping for air, I surfaced, pulled up by strong hands—Quinn, Levi, and others. They dragged me to solid ground, the earth still rumbling but stable.

“Connor, you okay?” Quinn’s voice was urgent, his face pale but determined.

I nodded, coughing out mud and trying to catch my breath. “Just doing my job,” I managed to say, a weak smile tugging at my lips.

The ground had stopped shifting, but the landscape was changed. Half the pasture had subsided, leaving a new scar on the earth where the boulders had tumbled down, creating a new course for the stream.

I stood, legs shaking, but alive. I’d been trained to dive into situations and protect those I cared about, no matter the cost. The relief in Levi’s eyes as he hugged Quinn closer was worth every bruise, every scrape, every terrifying second.

“Fuck, that was insane,” Daniel yelled over the rain, Micah at his side, as we all moved away from the edge and onto stable ground.

Nature had reshaped the land in all her fury, and fuck, I felt high from the adrenaline. My muscles ached, and the near-death experience left me buzzing with a strange exhilaration.

I’d missed that rush.

Chapter Four

NEIL

The storm was unrelenting, pounding on the roof of my office like a thousand fists. It was so loud it seemed as if the entire world was moving. The noise was almost deafening, my empty mug rattling on my desk and my favorite pen slipping off the side.

Solomon burst in, his face pale. “Did you feel that?” Solomon—our dispatcher—should have gone home hours ago. I wasn’t going to make him leave now, though a storm like this, caught in the valley and up into the mountains, was going to cause issues, and I appreciated his level head.

“It didn’t sound good,” I replied, my voice barely audible over the storm’s roar. The unsettling sensation of the ground moving beneath us lingered, and then everything stilled.

“Flash flood?” Solomon asked and glanced out of the window. The town itself wasn’t in the path of the mountain’s river and streams, but what about the outlying ranches? Fuck knows what was going on.

“Get calls out to all the ranches,” I announced, pulling on my slicker. I’d not long come back from patrolling the town looking for disaster, and my hair hadn’t even dried. Lewis still hadn’t made it in, still trapped on the other side of the flash flooding.

The office phone rang on my desk, and I grabbed it. “Sheriff’s office.”

“Neil, it’s Chris. I’m at the Lennox Ranch. There’s been a landslide. It’s bad.”

I gestured at Solomon, and he frowned. “Lennox,” I mouthed, and his frown turned grim. “Is everyone okay?” I asked.

“Close call, but so far.”

“You need help up there? Paramedics?”

“They’re not back yet.”

“Who?” Who the fuck was out in this storm during a landslide?

“The guys, all of them. I’m at the house with Rachel and the kids.”

Fuck. I could imagine Micah and Levi being out, and if Chris was up there, did that mean Noah was out as well? A freaking teacher? Jesus.

“Do you need medical help?”

“We’re good here, but the others outside…”

“Help’s on its way, Chris. Hang tight.” I switched over to the radio as I hurried out of the door. “Solomon, patch me through to Deputy Redfearn and call this into Engine seventeen.”

“Copy that, Sheriff.” Solomon pressed buttons. “You’re connected.”

“Redfearn, you there?”

“Yeah, I’m here, Sheriff,” Wyatt said. He was steady but new, still finding his feet in this town, two months into a six-month secondment with me.

“What’s the ETA for removing the Carson vehicle?”

“Done. He’s out with no injuries. Seventeen is leaving the site, and I’m heading back.”

“Okay, cover town. The Lennox Ranch has a landslip, and I’m heading there. Solomon is calling Seventeen back. Lewis is on the other side of the flooding and can’t get through, so it’s just you and me.”

“Copy,” Wyatt responded.

The drive out of town and up the mountain to the ranch was treacherous, even with the four-wheel drive and years of training. The car skidded and slid on the muddy road, and new rivers formed down the sides, carving and creating new paths. The water was a torrent, relentless as if it aimed to wash away Whisper Ridge.

The town might be out of the path of the raging torrent, but the ranch was close enough to be in real danger. I worried about the people up there. Micah, Rachel, the kids, and the rest of the ranch folks were friends, and I’d grown up with Micah Lennox and Daniel Sheridan. The thought of something happening to any of them hurt. I tightened my grip on the wheel.

If the storm significantly affected the town, I’d call the state police for backup and maybe the National Guard if it got really bad. But for now, my priority was to check out the damage at the ranch, hoping firefighters wouldn’t be far behind me.

The main house and outbuildings looked untouched as I approached. I parked the car, taking a moment to steady myself before getting out. The rain was a wall of water, slamming down with a force that made me squint against it. I tugged my slicker closer around my neck and clipped the hood as I checked the vehicles parked by the barns.

There were a lot.

There were too many for this to be the family alone.

I recognized the flashy SUV immediately—Connor’s vehicle. Why was he up here in the dark, in a storm? He had to be here somewhere. Had he heard about the landslip and wanted to be all heroic? The thought of him being near potential danger sent a jolt of concern through me, overshadowing my worries about the ranch.

The hell?

“Focus.”

I trudged through the mud toward the house, my boots sinking into the softened earth. As I got closer, I pushed the door open and stepped into the ranch house, shaking off the rain and taking in the scene. The place was decorated for a birthday, with a cake on one side and empty plates scattered around. A hand-colored banner with Quinn scrawled across it hung crookedly above the fireplace.

“How many more people are up here?” I muttered to myself, the situation's urgency pressing down on me. I needed a head count, and I needed it stat.

Quinn was there and spotted me first. He was nursing his left arm, and Rachel was applying a bandage. “Neil, thank God you’re here.”

“You’re hurt?”

“Nothing I can’t handle,” Quinn said. “Levi brought me back down, but he’s just left to go back up.”

“Who else?”

Quinn blinked at me. “Micah, Scott, Daniel, Levi, Noah, Connor.” Six souls. Got it. “Connor’s bleeding after he got sucked down, but he wouldn’t come back.”

Fear and anger surged through me in equal measure. Of course, the idiot wouldn’t give up. My heart pounded, a mix of dread and fury. Connor always had to play the hero, putting himself in danger without a second thought. The thought of him out there, injured and stubbornly refusing help, made my blood boil. I clenched my fists, struggling to keep my voice steady.

“Where’s the damage?” I asked, cutting straight to the chase.

“Further up the mountain, at the west stream, where the boulders are.”

“I know the place.” I turned to Rachel. “The kids?”

“In with Chris, playing games.”

I nodded. “You know your land. If you’re worried about the house and the kids, get them down the hill to the sheriff’s office. Take Chris and Quinn.”

“Will do.”

“Levi’s up there, and I’m not leaving,” Quinn began.

I sent him my best sheriff stare, and he subsided. I didn’t have time for idiots being where they shouldn’t be.

“Rachel will decide,” I said, and after a pause, Quinn gave a sharp nod. “I’ll head up now. Send the firefighters up when they arrive.” If they arrive.

“Will do,” Rachel murmured, wrapping her arms around herself and staring out of the window.

I barely registered her reply as I returned to the storm, scanning the area for any sign of anyone. I wasn’t looking for Connor—nope, I had a job. I wasn’t worrying about what the idiot was doing up there. The rain blurred my vision, and the wind howled, but I pressed on. I had to see the damage for myself and ensure everyone was safe—including the one man who could always turn my world upside down with his stubbornness and ability to mess up everything. I grabbed my flashlight, a spare, and the medical go bag from the SUV, then headed up in a stumbling half-run away from the house.

I caught up with Levi towards the slip, both of us scrambling over loose stones as the wind howled around us. We stopped next to each other, bracing ourselves against the relentless gusts. The rain pelted, cold and unforgiving, but Levi’s expression worried me.

“The water’s changed course,” Levi shouted over the wind. “It’s further from the ranch, heading away from town and the graveyard. It’s not close enough to cause immediate trouble, but it’s something we need to watch. Quinn’s at the house with Rachel and the kids.”

“I know,” I replied, my voice carried away by the storm. “I told them to go into town if they needed to.”

“Same.”

“Firefighters on their way if they can make it through.”

The wind stole his words as we turned and trudged on up the hill. I needed to see the damage for myself. Each step was a battle against the mud and rain, but I pressed on. As I got closer, lightning and my flashlight revealed a few guys working hard to shore up the banks of a new watercourse. And then, of course, right in freaking danger was Connor.

He was apart from the others, moving stones, covered head to toe in mud and standing too damn close to the gaping hole in the hillside.

What the fuck was he doing?

I pushed forward, anger and concern mixing in my gut. “Connor!” I yelled, trying to get his attention over the storm’s roar.

He looked up as I pointed the flashlight at his face, his gray eyes locking onto mine before he blinked and dipped his gaze. I was relieved he was okay, but frustration followed the relief. Connor had a knack for putting himself right in the middle of danger, and this was no exception.

“Get back from the edge!” I shouted, as I slipped through the mud to reach him.

Connor didn’t move, the light resting on his face. Was that blood? He frowned at me as if I were interrupting something important. “We need to stabilize this area,” he yelled, calm despite the chaos around us, using a branch to lever a huge slab of stone and heaving it into place, then swiping a hand through the blood streaking his face.

“Not if you get yourself killed first,” I snapped back, grabbing his arm and pulling him away from the edge. “You’re too close to the edge. It’s not safe.”

Connor tried to wriggle free, but he let me drag him back. “I know what I’m doing.”

“No, you don’t!” I tried to control my anger at the idiot who was asking mother nature to swallow him whole.

“You get back!” He shoved me.

I saw red.

“I’m supposed to be on the fucking edge!” I shouted, with no real logic. There was no way anyone should be this close to a crumbling hillside. “You’re a civilian!”

We pushed and shoved at each other until we reached a more stable area where the others worked. They didn’t even look at us, focusing on the shifting ground as the storm eased up and the rain slowed.

“Blood!” I gestured at Connor’s head in the glow of the flashlight.

“I couldn’t get to Quinn,” Levi said, devastated. “Connor got him. We sent Quinn back down, but Connor won’t leave.”

Of course, he wouldn’t. I gestured at his face. “You need to see a medic.”

In return, he wiped at the blood and examined it before picking up a handful of mud and packing it on the forehead wound.

“It’s not a fucking war zone!” I yelled, and he glanced around us.

As he turned to go back to the others, I grabbed his arm again, pulling him close enough he could hear me over the storm. “And be careful, dammit.”

He gave me a half-smile that threw me off-balance. “You too, Sheriff.”

I watched him go, then turned my attention back to the task at hand and pitched in, picking up the nearest dislodged stone—half the weight of the one that Connor hefted, the asshole. There was a lot to do, but with everyone working together, we had a fighting chance to stop the bank on this side from breaking.

We were buffeted and soaked through but determined.

The relentless downpour became a steady drizzle. The earth stopped sliding, and the water, while still bubbling and hissing at speed, had settled into a more predictable path. The immediate danger seemed to be over enough that we canceled the firefighters, who wouldn’t have been able to make it up here anyway, but the damage was done. The mountain’s weight had carved into the soft mud, creating a new, precarious landscape.

Everyone worked tirelessly to stabilize the area as the storm began to ease up and I took a moment to survey the scene, trying to plan my next steps.

Micah approached me, his face smeared with mud, but his eyes were sharp and focused. “It’s looking better, but we’ll set up a watch rotation tonight. Make sure nothing shifts unexpectedly.”

“Okay.”

Connor moved close. “I’ll take the first watch.”

“You don’t know what you’re looking for,” I said.

He pointed at the water. “Mud. Slip. Boulders. The big hole getting bigger. It’s not rocket science.”

“You’re not a rancher.” He raised an eyebrow, and I glanced at the head wound that was covered in mud but had stopped bleeding. “You could have a concussion.”

“I’ve had worse.”

Not that shit again. I wanted to argue, to tell him he needed rest, but I knew better than to offend the former SEAL, who would probably take it as a slight against his manhood, then beat his manly fucking chest. “Fine. But you’re not doing it alone.”

Connor’s smile widened just a bit. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Are you volunteering to hold my hand?”

“I have to go back down to town...” I stopped when I realized I’d engaged with him, as if I wanted to stay, and was pissed I had to leave.

How did he do this to me? I wanted to shove him away and pull him close all at the same time. How did he tie me in knots?

“I’ll take the first shift with you,” Micah said, his voice heavy with exhaustion. “We’ve done what we can for now. Let’s get everyone down to the house and dry off, then Connor and I will come back up.”

We made our way down the hill, the ground still unstable but no longer shifting. The ranch house was a beacon of warmth and safety, and as we reached the porch, I felt a wave of relief that I hadn’t been here to file anything worse than whatever had happened to Connor’s forehead.

Inside, Quinn and the others had set up a makeshift command center, ready with hot drinks and dry clothes. Levi fussed over his husband, convincing Quinn to head to the hospital. Meanwhile, Connor, ever the protector, was adding pressure.

“You need to go, Quinn,” Connor insisted, his voice firm. “It’s not worth the risk.”

Quinn tapped his forehead. “It’s not me who hit my head, throwing myself into the way of rocks to drag me out of the hole.”

I swear Connor growled—he’d have to have broken all his limbs to believe he was hurt.

“It’s my job to look out for you,” he said.

Quinn patted his face. “No, it’s not anymore. But thank you.” He pulled Connor in for a hug, and I saw Connor stiffen but then give in to the enthusiastic man who was a head shorter than him.

Levi offered a hand, his other across Quinn’s shoulder. “Thank you,” he said from the heart.

“Doing. My. Job,” Connor muttered, clearly embarrassed. Connor took his role as Quinn’s protector seriously, almost obsessively. Even now, with Quinn settling quietly in Whisper Ridge with Levi, far from the dangers that once shadowed his life or the media wanting its pound of flesh, Connor hovered like a sentinel. His sense of duty never wavered, and I couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to have that kind of fierce protectiveness aimed at me. The thought of all that attention and focus sent an involuntary shiver down my spine, mingling unease with a flicker of longing.

I didn’t want Connor’s attention, nor did I need it.

Right?

“I still think you should go to the hospital,” Connor added in a last-ditch effort.

His face flushed with pain and irritation, Quinn snapped, “It’s just a sprain.”

“What if it isn’t?” Connor added, and I almost stepped in when Quinn began to turn scarlet and looked toward me as if he needed help.

“Maybe you should let Daniel take a look,” Levi interjected, worry etched into his features as he refocused back on his other half.

“Stop! Both of you!” Quinn pointed at Connor and then Levi. “Daniel already checked me out.”

Daniel raised a hand cautiously as if he didn’t want to get in the middle of the Connor/Levi worrying-over-Quinn show. “As his doctor, I did, and he needs rest, not a hospital trip.”

I watched the exchange, noting the tension between Quinn, his husband, and Connor. It wasn’t just about Quinn’s injury; it was the undercurrent of Connor’s protectiveness and Quinn’s fierce independence.

Connor sighed, and Levi hugged Quinn closer, both torn between their concern for Quinn and the logic of Daniel’s assessment.

“Fine,” Connor muttered. “But if anything changes, we’re heading to the hospital.”

Quinn rolled his eyes but managed a small smile. The tension eased slightly, but I could still feel Connor’s frustration. As everyone settled down, I caught Connor’s eye and gave him a reassuring nod. It was hard not to respect his genuine concern for Quinn, even if his bullish need to control things drove me crazy.

As I stripped off my muddy coat and accepted a cup of coffee from Rachel, I couldn’t help but look for Connor across the room, as if I were drawn to watch him despite the chaos and the fact the idiot had been standing too close to that damn hole.

Did I admire him?

Did I have a thing for the hero with mud covering an injury who insisted he’d be guarding a mountain from Mother Nature in the middle of the goddamned night?

Who was I kidding?

Of course, I did.

Chapter Five

CONNOR

The first light of dawn filtered into the Lennox kitchen, casting a soft glow over the room. I leaned back in the kitchen chair and sipped my coffee, savoring the warmth and the rich aroma. My volunteer shift on-site had finished, but I wasn’t ready to leave the ranch yet.

Just in case.

Nothing to do with the fact Quinn was still here.

The storm had stopped, and according to Chris, if the weather service was to be believed, it would be a good day.

Quinn was curled up on the sofa in the corner, nearly in Levi’s lap, both focused on whispering whatever married guys talked about. They were good together, no doubt about it, and yeah, I needed to back off worrying about Quinn because he was right. His personal security was on Levi now, and he didn’t rely on me.

No one did now.

Great, and now I’m having a lonely-ass pity party for one.

I took another sip of my coffee, trying to shake off a small pang of what seemed a lot like envy. Quinn and Levi had found something special, something I hadn’t realized I wanted until I’d started battling with Neil. It was hard not to feel envious of their easy affection and how I could never imagine it for myself.

I didn’t do soft and sweet.

Micah and Daniel stumbled down the stairs and into the kitchen, bleary-eyed and needing coffee. They’d gone up an hour before to crash, but I guess neither could sleep.

“And?” Levi asked.

“I’ll make the coffee. You do the talking.” Daniel waved at Micah, exhausted, leaning on the counter and yawning. Micah seemed more awake, or maybe he was still riding the adrenaline.

“You think the landslip is dangerously close to the old barn?” Levi asked, concern creasing his brow.

Micah stopped, his hand frozen mid-reach towards a mug of coffee. He looked more shocked than he had been about the massive scar on the property, his eyes wide and face pale as he met my gaze. Something had rattled him.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, my voice low and urgent.

His expression was grim. “Nothing.” His voice was barely a whisper, but the fear in it was unmistakable. No one else heard his words. He had his back to everyone, but he was spooked, and a chill ran down my spine, my muscles tensing.

“Micah? Do we need to get everyone out of here?” I asked, needing to know what had shaken him so much.

“No. We’re okay, we’re…” He blinked at me, then snapped out of whatever he had going on and got his coffee. I didn’t like that reaction and could only assume he was worried about the property, but he’d tell someone else, right? If he was really worried? He’d talk to Levi. To his husband?

Rachel arrived in the kitchen carrying a sleepy Oliver, Scott not far behind her. “Did I hear you mentioning the old barn?”

“Yeah, wondering how close the slip gets to it.”

She huffed. “That barn needed demolishing anyway. The well’s probably caved in under it.”

“You think?” Levi asked.

Micah flicked me another glance, frowning, put his coffee down, clenched his fists, then crossed his arms over his chest on the next beat, as if he couldn’t find a comfortable position. His agitation was palpable, a restless energy that made me wonder if it was just the landslip eating at him. Was it only me who noticed how he kept staring at me? No one answered Micah.

I inclined my head to the door, implying I was here if he wanted to talk. He shrugged and shook his head.

“We’ll call someone out here to assess the damage and figure out what needs to be done next,” Levi said.

I half listened to him and Rachel discussing land surveying, soil, and rock stability, and getting out an environmental engineer. I finished my coffee and set the mug down, stretching my stiff muscles, unsure where I fit into all this ranch talk, and thinking I’d go down into town and see if anyone else wanted help.

“Is there anything else I can do to help up here?” I was talking to Micah, who seemed to want to say something else, but he turned away to mess with the coffee pot.

“Nothing any of us can do until the engineer gets out here,” Levi said. “Except watch the horses and hope for no rain.”

“I’ll get out of here, then, see if I can help down in town.” Find Neil and force myself into his space as sheriff’s assistant for the day. Tease him. Do rash things to make him lose his cool.

Kiss him.

Nope. No to the kissing. Kissing was for real connection, not with someone I wanted to fuck once to get him out of my system.

“I owe you one,” Levi said, hugging Quinn closer. As for Quinn, he glanced up from his cozy spot with Levi and gave me a grateful smile.

“Thanks for everything, Connor. We’ll catch up later.”

I nodded, giving them a small wave as I headed for the door. The rain had stopped, and the sky was starting to clear. The weather forecast might be right for once when it promised a better day.

As I headed down the mountain road and back into Whisper Ridge, I could see the damage the storm had wrought overnight. The paths were riddled with debris, branches, and scattered leaves everywhere. Small streams of water still flowed down the hillside, carving new grooves into the mud. Sections of the gravel road had been washed out, forcing me to navigate deep puddles and newly formed ditches. The fields closer to town were waterlogged, with patches of standing water reflecting the morning light. Whisper Ridge bore the storm’s scars, with a few damaged roofs and fallen fences visible from a distance. Daniel's car was right behind mine, and I assumed he was heading to the doctor's office. He gave a short wave when we separated as we hit town. He went to the practice, and I went home.

When I pulled to a stop outside the diner, I could see it hadn’t escaped unscathed. One of the front windows was cracked, spiderwebs of fractured glass catching the early morning light. The awning hung lopsided, barely clinging to its supports, and the Lily’s Diner sign dangled by a single chain. Water pooled at the entrance, seeping under the door, and the facade was battered and worn.

“Shit.” I locked the car and jogged over to find Noah and Chris hefting boards to cover the broken window.

Noah was pale but focused, Chris struggling to keep his balance against the gusts of wind that hadn’t abated. Fox, Noah’s son, was helping, and without being asked, I joined in, taking one end of the sheet of plywood and offering it up to the window so Noah could nail it in place. Chris sagged against the door, then pushed it open to move inside, his crutch catching on the doorframe and only Noah’s hand on his arm stopping him from tumbling. This place was my home, but this was Noah’s business, and I really liked their little family.

“Is this the only damage?” I asked.

Noah nodded. “To the diner, yeah. We got off light—the coffee shop windows are toast.”

“I’ll head over there after this.”

“I’ll come with you as soon as I’m done here. Chris and Merle will handle the diner and keep the coffee going.”

Knowing Neil would be out fixing things, I glanced toward the sheriff’s office and fought the urge to track him down.

It turned out I didn’t need to, given that he was already at the coffee shop directing others where to cut the branches that had smashed into her window.

“Connor,” he acknowledged.

I joined the effort, grabbing a saw and working alongside volunteers to clear the debris. It was grueling work, and the storm had left a hell of a mess. While maneuvering a particularly stubborn branch, I felt a sharp stab and looked down to see blood welling from a cut on my hand. I stalked inside, grabbed some paper towel, wrapped it around the wound, and kept working. Neil watched me, his face twisted as if he’d sucked a lemon, but he didn’t say anything.

Once we’d finished clearing the window, Neil grabbed my arm, pulling me away from the group. “You’re getting that looked at,” he insisted, his grip firm and unyielding.

“What?”

“You cut yourself,” Neil snapped, sounding both worried and angry. His eyes flicked to the makeshift bandage on my hand, growling at the blood seeping through, then stared back at me with his familiar stubborn expression.

“I’m not going to waste Doc’s time with a scratch,” I argued, easing my arm free.

“Yes, you are.”

I snorted, “Make me, Sheriff.”

Neil’s eyes narrowed, a determined glint in them. “I have handcuffs.”

The idea of Neil putting me in handcuffs flashed through my mind, and instead of the intended threat, all I could think about was how that could be the start of a fun night in his bed. The thought of being restrained by his firm grip and authoritative presence sent a shiver of anticipation down my spine, igniting a fire that had nothing to do with anger. No one ever imagined a guy like me would love to be held down, to take a break from being in charge, but sometimes … yeah, I imagined what it would be like.

Someone to stop the urge to do stupid things.

“I might like that,” I said in a low tone, and his eyes widened.

We squared off in the alley behind the diner that ran toward the surgery, the air thick with tension. His shock at the words, or irritation at me—I couldn’t tell—was radiating off him in waves. Our breaths came heavy, as we each dared the other to make the next move. The intense back-and-forth, the proximity, everything seemed to blur into a single moment of charged emotion.

“Dammit, Connor!” His voice was low but fierce. “Why can’t you just do what you’re told for once? You’re not invincible. One cut and you could get an infection. What if you’d gotten swallowed in the mud last night? Jesus, you need to listen to me and start taking things seriously!”

“I take things seriously,” I shot back, matching his tone. “And I don’t need a babysitter.”

He winced, then his anger flared as he gripped my arm again. “I’m not trying to be your babysitter, you idiot. I’m trying to keep you from making my job a million times harder. Is that so hard for you to understand?”

“I’m not your job,” I yanked my arm free. “I’m a grown fucking man, and I don’t need a keeper.”

Neil’s face twisted in frustration. “You got between Abraham and his gun last week, Connor! Do you have any idea how reckless that was? Two weeks ago, you tried to pull a car out of a ditch using a rope and your bare strength and the fucking thing nearly flattened you. You think you’re invincible, but you’re not! One of these days, you’re going to get yourself seriously hurt, and then what? You think I enjoy watching you risk your life like it’s some game?” His voice was rising, anger and worry blending together in a raw, unfiltered outburst. “I can’t keep bailing you out of these messes, Connor. You need to start thinking before you act! And if you just took one freaking minute to⁠—”

I pushed him up against the wall, gripping his shirt, and kissed him. Hard. Anything to stop him talking.

Time stood still. The feel of his lips against mine was electrifying, the culmination of all the snarky banter, the heated arguments, and the unresolved tension. It was everything I hadn’t admitted to myself I wanted, all in one desperate act.

Neil’s body went rigid, and then he responded, grabbing my shoulders and tugging me closer. The kiss was fierce, almost angry, but there was something else there too—something deeper. He was hard, and I didn’t know whether to rut against him or run for my freaking life. We were both breathless when we pulled apart, staring at each other with shock and something dangerously close to longing.

I stumbled back, adrenaline coursing through me. “There,” I said, my voice rough. “One way to shut you up.”

Neil’s eyes were dark, his breathing uneven. “You fucking asshole.”

“Takes one to know one.” Great comeback. Not.

I waited for him to hit me, and even though I could take him down in a second, I knew I’d let him get in the first hit. Hell, I wouldn’t fight at all. What kind of man forces a kiss on someone?

He gripped my jacket and dragged me closer, temper in his eyes. “You. Fucking. Asshole,” he repeated.

I braced myself for impact, only he kissed me. Hard and then gentler, his hands still twisted in my jacket, tasting every inch of me. I could feel his cock hard against my thigh, and I whimpered.

I freaking whimpered into his mouth, and it was that sound that made him step back.

“Wow,” I muttered, wiping my mouth with my uninjured hand.

“You…” He was flailing to find words, his pupils fat, his lips shiny, and his breathing labored.

“I’m an asshole, I know, you said already.”

He poked my chest. “Why won’t you just leave town.” Neil’s anger hadn’t dissipated; if anything, it seemed more intense. “You think you can distract me with a kiss, and it’ll be fine?”

“You kissed me!”

“You kissed me first!” he shouted, then closed his eyes briefly and attempted to settle his breathing. I was torn between patting his shoulder and kissing him again, but first, I needed to get my libido in check and my breathing right.

“You make me insane!” he snapped.

“Maybe you like that?” I deadpanned, and maybe that was the wrong tone because he stiffened.

“This reckless shit is exactly what I’m talking about!”

“Kissing you wasn’t reckless, it was necessary.” Hell, I couldn’t think of another word that described knowing I needed to kiss him like I needed to breathe.

After a moment of him vibrating with emotion, he rested a hand over my heart.

“You’re not indestructible.”

And then he straightened, stepped away from me, and turned to leave.

“Neil?” I asked in a soft tone, and he glanced over his shoulder. “We need to talk about more kissing.”

He snorted a laugh. “In your fucking dreams, asshole.”

Chapter Six

NEIL

“We need to talk about more kissing.”

Why the hell would Connor think that? He kissed me, I evened the score, that was all it was.

But as I walked back to the office, my mind replayed the moment, and I couldn’t shake the feeling it had stirred in me. It wasn’t only a kiss—it was the hottest, most intense kiss I’d had in a long time. I’d been thinking about kissing Connor for what felt like forever. That infuriating, smug man had a way of rubbing me up the wrong way, always getting under my skin.

I didn’t want to feel this attraction. It was inconvenient, a complication I didn’t need in my already complicated life. But damn it, the kiss had made me feel things I thought I’d buried deep. Need, want, an insatiable desire for more. My body was still buzzing, turned-on and burning with a heat that the cold autumn air couldn’t extinguish.

As I walked, the crisp wind bit at my cheeks, promising early snow, which would be as much of a headache as the violent storms. I couldn’t afford to be distracted, to let this get in the way of my work, my responsibilities. Yet, here I was, fixated on Connor.

I reached the office, the familiar surroundings doing little to settle my thoughts. I tried to focus on the tasks at hand, but the memory of Connor’s lips on mine, the way he had pressed against me, lingered. It was maddening. I didn’t want this. I didn’t have time for this.

But I want him.

Maybe it was time to face the fact this wasn’t something I could ignore. Connor was in my head, and he wasn’t going anywhere. And whether I liked it or not, I had to figure out how to deal with these feelings. For now, I pushed them aside, focusing on the immediate duties of the day, but the thought of Connor remained, simmering beneath the surface.

I quickened my pace, almost falling into the office and slamming the door shut behind me. Three sets of eyes turned my way. Solomon was used to seeing me like this—full of emotions and barely restrained frustration, but usually, it was because I’d dealt with red tape or some stupid-ass kid shit that needed closing down. But my poor deputy was wide-eyed and stared at me in shock, stiffening and glancing out of the nearest window as if he thought something was chasing me.

“The coffee shop is secure,” I reported.

Solomon made a note on the list we had. “I just finished over at the Mayor’s place, they have a contractor there for the roof.”

“And you managed to get Josiah to stay off a ladder?” Mayor Redfearn was nearly seventy-three, and the last thing I needed was for him to climb all over his roof.

“Much to his disgust.”

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. “All right, Solomon, what else is on the list?”

Solomon glanced at his notes, ever the picture of efficiency. “Storm damage calls, nothing major, but Gregory wants you to swing by the store as soon as you can.”

“Everything okay?”

Solomon tilted his head in that way which meant he was trying to convey something he didn’t want Wyatt to hear, and I immediately knew it was concerning my dad. I gave him a short nod to say I understood and fought the anxiety digging into my chest.

He cleared his throat. “Also, one of the Jackson sisters drove into the construction work—the crews called it in but didn’t say if it was Maddie or Margo. No one’s hurt, and the old gals are refusing a call for paramedics, so I asked Doc to head out there just in case.”

I rubbed my temples, trying to push away the worry about Dad and the lingering unease over Connor and focus on the tasks at hand. “Good call on Doc. Okay, Wyatt, you’re with the RTA.”

“Yes, Sheriff.”

“I’ll head to the store.”

I was back out before the phone rang again or Solomon added anything to the list, then jogged down the center alley to Whisper Ridge Market. It had seen many iterations since I was a kid but had always been run by the Midlane family, from Grandad Midlane to his grandson Gregory.

The store was a familiar sight, with posters in the window advertising summer events that had long since passed. The glass was slightly foggy, showing its age, but despite its tired appearance, the inside was clean and well-stocked with everything people in town needed. It had an air of worn resilience, a testament to its endurance through the years. The shelves were filled with essentials, from canned goods to fresh produce, though the floor tiles were scuffed, and the wooden beams overhead showed the wear of decades. The bell above the door jingled as I entered, and I spotted Gregory behind the counter, chatting with an elderly customer.

The aisles were narrow but navigable, stocked with everything from household necessities to local treats. The smell of freshly baked bread wafted through the air, mingling with the scent of old wood and cleaning supplies. It was a place that held memories, both good and bad, and as I walked through it, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of belonging.

Beyond Gregory was the unmistakable shape of my dad sitting on a display of cans, staring at his phone.

Gregory inclined his head much in the same way as Solomon had. Some of his old friends in town knew something was going on with Dad. No one knew better than me what his diagnosis was or why he was sitting in the middle of Whisper Ridge Market watching videos on his phone. The way the town worked, it wouldn’t be long before everyone knew how the sixty-two-year-old former sheriff and community leader was now an aging man with early onset dementia, courtesy of a bullet fragment in the head from when he was much younger.

I smiled at Gregory and then sat beside Dad as if it were a perfectly reasonable place to sit.

“Dad,” I asked in a gentle tone, “what are you watching?”

He glanced up at me, his eyes clear for a moment before clouding with confusion. “Neil, why are you playing dress-up in my old uniform?”

I took a deep breath, forcing a smile. “Because I’m trying to be as good a sheriff as you were, Dad. Remember? You used to wear this uniform.”

He frowned, trying to piece together his thoughts. “I did, didn’t I? But why … why are you wearing it now?”

“It’s my turn to keep the town safe, just like you taught me,” I said, keeping my voice calm and steady. “You always said taking care of Whisper Ridge was important.”

He nodded, seeming to accept my explanation. “Right, right. You’re doing a good job, Neil.” He sighed, checking his phone and the video still playing. “I get so confused sometimes. Things don’t make sense.”

“I know, Dad,” I said, my heart aching. “But that’s why I’m here. You’re not alone. We’ll figure it out together, okay?”

His smile was weak, but a spark of recognition flickered in his eyes, making me hope again.

“Okay, son. Thanks for sticking with me.”

“Always, Dad,” I replied, patting his shoulder. “Now, how about we head home? I could use some company on the way.”

He nodded, letting me help him to his feet. As we left the store, Gregory gave me a sympathetic nod, and I returned it with a grateful smile. It wasn’t easy, but I wouldn’t let Dad be alone, no matter how tough it got. We’d face this together. I wondered if, in his more lucid moments, he remembered he had a gay son that he’d rejected as a teenager and whether he had it in him to care now. I was either a small child or a grown man in his world, no longer the teenager who’d left for college with his father’s rejection burning in his chest.

“There you are!” Mom announced with all the drama she could muster, fluttering around Dad, pale and shaky but smiling as if nothing was wrong. She sometimes denied anything was wrong with him and waded through life as if everything were okay, believing that one day he’d wake up and be fixed. Only, he was close to the point where he needed care, and all too soon, Mom would have to sit with me and Bessie and make those final decisions.

That is where my focus should be. Not on Connor.

I didn’t have time to think about anything besides work and family.

Particularly not the taste of Connor and the need burning inside me.

Chapter Seven

CONNOR

This morning, the diner was a mix of blustery cold and warm comfort, thanks to the window guy fixing the glass. Occasionally, a gust of wind would sneak in, but nothing was moving me from my early morning connection to caffeine and one of Noah’s breakfast sandwich surprises. The surprise this morning was that there was more bacon than bread, which made me smile.

I was in my usual spot, my back to the wall but at the front—a habit ingrained from years of training and knowing exactly where everything and everyone was at any given time.

“More coffee?” Merle asked when he was already pouring it.

I smiled and thanked him. A man of few words, he didn’t start talking to me, which I was grateful for, given that I had so much on my mind.

Well, I had Neil on my mind.

My phone rang, and when I saw who was calling—my former CO, Oberon Walters—I had this bad feeling he wasn’t calling to chat.

“Are you somewhere private?” Oberon asked without the usual banter that marked our infrequent phone conversations.

“Hang on,” I answered, grabbing my coffee and heading up the stairs to my apartment. I nodded to Merle out of habit as I passed him, but my mind was already far away, trying to brace for whatever was coming.

Once inside, I shut the door behind me, taking a deep breath before answering.

“Go on,” I said. The familiar view from my window stretched out over the road, but it didn’t offer comfort. I could feel the tension knotting in my chest.

“You’re on speaker. Trick’s here too.”

Was this a team conference call? The only person missing was Lee ‘Donnie’ Donovan, and I knew.

I knew.

That knot tightened. “Where’s Donnie? What happened to him?”

Oberon’s voice softened as if that would make it easier. “Car accident.”

Grief and shock floored me as the words hit hard. My breath caught in my throat, and I stared out of the window, trying to process what I’d just heard.

“When’s the funeral?” I asked, thinking ahead.

“His fiancée doesn’t want us there,” Oberon said. “We have to respect that.”

“She didn’t want us at their wedding either,” Trick reminded us, although I hadn’t forgotten.

I’d met Deborah, or Deb as Donnie called her. It was a brief meeting at last year’s reunion. She was a sweet, shy schoolteacher who wasn’t comfortable around us—his old team, the ones who’d fought beside him, who’d seen Donnie at his best and his worst. I guess we were a reminder of the life he’d led before her, a life forged in fire and violence, and no matter how much we tried to clean up, to be presentable, that darkness clung to us like a shadow.

I couldn’t blame her for not wanting us at the wedding. Maybe we’d been too rough, dark, or wrong for what she’d been trying to build with him. When a person lived through what we had, it changed them. We carried it with us, and no amount of time or distance could shake it off. I guessed she saw that in us, in me, and she didn’t want it near the wedding. I couldn’t fault her for that.

But stopping us from attending the funeral?

Damn, it hurt to be cut off from someone who’d meant something.

I squeezed my eyes shut, the frustration and grief mixing into a bitter cocktail.

“Okay,” I murmured. “Okay.”

“We’ll mark it somehow,” Oberon said, and I nodded even though he couldn’t see me.

The words hung heavy in the air, the weight of everything we’d lost pressing down on us. Donnie had been one of the good ones, the kind of guy who made the worst situations bearable. And now he was gone, like so many others.

The grief hit me out of nowhere, sharp and relentless, as I imagined Donnie’s face and heard his laugh in my mind. I tried to push it away, tried to focus on the here and now, but the pain of his loss—and the loss of the others who were gone—was always there, lurking beneath the surface, waiting to remind me of what was gone.

“Good kid,” Oberon sounded choked. “Always had a way of making us a unit.”

“It won’t be the same without him,” Trick agreed.

Oberon huffed a laugh. “God, do you remember that time in the UK when Donnie ate all the candy the Brits had?”

A faint smile tugged at my lips despite the grief. This is what our team did—we processed loss through memories. “Donnie always knew how to push the SAS guys’ buttons, stealing their candy stash.”

Trick’s laugh was genuine. “All those candy people in one go. What were they called again?”

“Jelly babies,” Oberon said, chuckling. “Sick little baby-shaped things with heads and everything.”

“Donnie always knew how to make an impression,” Trick added, the humor in his voice fading. “I’m gonna miss him.”

“We aren’t the same team we were ten years ago,” I murmured, the realization hitting me like a ton of bricks.

Oberon sighed. “So many team members gone, and now it’s just us three.”

“Yeah,” Trick said, and for a moment we were quiet.

“To Donnie,” Oberon said, his voice low and filled with sorrow and respect.

“To Donnie,” Trick echoed.

I raised my coffee in salute, though it felt like such a small gesture for someone who had meant so much. “Donnie.”

“Forever team,” Oberon added.

We ended the call, promising to meet up one day, though we’d made that promise so many times before and never saw it through. Once in the last five years wasn’t enough, but lives moved on. I’d spent so long trying to find Natalie and track down anyone connected to the cult, and then I’d joined Quinn’s security, and then I was here in Whisper Ridge. Oberon and Trick did their own thing, but I missed the guys and the camaraderie that had made us closer than brothers.

I needed to go out, drive, walk, or do something. I returned to the diner with the empty mug and got a refill, taking my usual seat and staring into the coffee. The hollow feeling only grew, and I didn’t know how to shake the emptiness in my chest. Another friend lost.

I’m feeling stupidly lonely.

The door to the diner opened with force, and I was startled, not aware of my surroundings at all. I tensed when Neil walked in and sat opposite me without asking. His presence was like a storm cloud, full of tension and barely concealed frustration.

I swallowed any hint of grief, forcing it down so deep it felt like I was choking on it. The heaviness in my chest wasn’t going anywhere, but I couldn’t let it show. Not now. Not with Neil sitting there, watching me, all wise and shit. I’d spent years perfecting the art of hiding how I felt, and this was no different.

I forced a smirk onto my face, the kind that usually got a rise from Neil, and slipped into the casual banter that had become our routine. “Sheriff,” I said. “Back so soon? What’s the matter? Miss me already?”

It took effort, more than I wanted to admit, to keep my voice steady and pretend everything was fine. But I knew if I let a crack of what I was feeling show, it’d all come spilling out, and I wasn’t ready. Not here, not now. Not with Neil. Burying the grief was like trying to hold back a flood with nothing but feather pillows—ineffective at best, destructive at worst. But I couldn’t let it out, not yet. So, I kept the banter going, kept the smirk in place, even as the ache in my chest tightened with every word.

Neil raised an eyebrow, his eyes narrowing as he stared at me. For a second, I thought he might have read my expression or seen through the mask I was wearing.

Dangerous.

“Abraham isn’t pressing charges,” he said, his voice tight.

“Of course, he isn’t pressing charges,” I replied. “It was all on him. I defused the situation.”

Neil scowled. I smiled, and we sat silently, the air crackling with tension. Neil started to stand, but I grabbed his hand to stop him. His eyes widened in surprise, and he looked around us, but no one could see us through the window at this angle. I tugged him closer, making him bend over the table.

I wanted to feel something other than grief and loss.

“When will you give in and kiss me again?” I asked, my voice low and intense. “I want more.”

Neil’s expression shifted—a heady mix of shock and need flickering across his face before he moved back. “Not happening.”

Only I could sense doubt in his voice, so I struck while I could. “How about we get a beer?” I asked.

Neil stiffened, his resolve hardening. “I don’t mix personal and professional,” he said, his voice firm.

I grabbed onto that. “So, you’re saying we have something personal?” I deadpanned.

He snarled, pulled his arm away, and left the diner without glancing back. I watched him go, the grief straight back as soon as he’d left.

And then I followed him because…

Well, I didn’t have anything better to do.

Chapter Eight

NEIL

I’d caught a glimpse of something in Connor’s eyes—something raw, something a hell of a lot like pain, but as quickly as it had appeared, it was gone, replaced by his usual cocky grin and sharp retorts. I couldn’t get it out of my head. What was that all about? For a moment, I thought I’d seen a chink in his armor, but whatever it was, he’d hidden it away before I could get a good look. I’d felt compassion and concern, but he’d blown it out of the water with his sarcasm, touching, and mention of kissing.

And now, the asshole was following me, but I wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of turning around to acknowledge him, whatever sadness I’d thought I’d seen in his expression.

I kept walking, focused on returning to the office before he could get under my skin any more than he already had. As I approached the parking lot, I spotted something that spiked my irritation further—someone had parked in the handicapped bay without the proper tags.

The driver was one of the ranchers, Phil Thompson. He didn’t always think things through, constantly pushing me with the parking thing, and I wasn’t in the mood for his excuses today.

I approached the truck, and Phil rolled down his window, offering me a sheepish grin.

“Sheriff,” he greeted, trying to play it off. “Just a quick stop. I wasn’t going to be long.”

“Phil, you know the rules,” I said, my tone firm but not unkind. “You need to move your truck. That spot’s reserved for people who need it.”

Phil gave me his usual aw-shucks grin, and then his eyes went wide, and he glanced past me, his grin fading. I knew without checking that Connor was standing behind me. I could feel the change in the air—how people reacted when Connor was around, even if they didn’t know his history. There was just something about him that demanded respect … or maybe it was fear.

I glanced over my shoulder, confirming what I already suspected: Connor was standing there, arms crossed and a stern expression that made it hard to tell if he was about to issue commands or throw punches. It was a look intense enough to give anyone pause. All it did was wind me the fuck up.

Phil didn’t waste any time. “Uh, sorry, Sheriff. I’ll move it right now,” he stammered, fumbling with his keys before starting the engine and backing out of the space as quickly as he could without hitting anything.

As Phil’s truck disappeared down the road, I felt a mix of emotions bubbling up inside me. The irritation I’d been nursing all morning had turned into something closer to anger, and I couldn’t quite shake the image of Connor standing there, all sexy and serious. Damn him for making everything more complicated.

I kept walking, heading down the back path to the sheriff’s office, trying to shake off the thoughts swirling in my head. But then I stopped so suddenly that Connor almost walked right into me.

“Why are you following me?” I snapped as I turned to face him.

Connor didn’t miss a beat. “In case you needed help,” he said, his tone infuriatingly calm.

“With a parking violation?” I shot back, crossing my arms over my chest.

Connor took a step closer, crowding me against the same damn wall where he’d pushed me before. His eyes were locked onto mine, and I could feel the heat radiating off him. “Why did you walk this way?” he asked, his voice low and knowing.

I frowned, not liking where this was going. “I’m going to my office.”

“But there are quicker ways,” he countered, a small, knowing smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Maybe you chose this way because it’s private, and you wanted me to follow you … and kiss you.”

“You’re not making any sense,” I muttered, though the words felt weak even as they left my mouth.

Had I walked this way so I could have privacy to confront him?

Or kiss him?

Probably a mix of both.

Connor braced both hands on the wall on either side of me, leaning in until our noses almost touched. Then, with a grin, he bopped my nose with his, the gesture so ridiculous it threw me off-balance.

He stepped back, rearranging his pants, his eyes still smoldering. “You doing all that sheriff stuff makes me hot,” he said, his voice laced with a teasing edge that made my blood heat.

Before I could respond, a voice called out from behind us. “Hi, Uncle Neil!”

I turned to see Jason, my nephew, gamer extraordinaire, moody teenager, along with his equally moody friend, Benny. “Is everything okay?”

“Aww shucks, Sheriff, there’s trouble at the mine,” Benny announced in his best impersonation of a cowboy—little shit.

Connor raised an eyebrow, glancing at me. “Wait. We have mines?”

I rolled my eyes, trying to rein in the simmering frustration at Connor being here, and now Jason’s idiot friend who thought impersonating a sheriff out of a western was funny. “No, we don’t have mines.”

“He’s just kidding,” Jason said, elbowing his friend.

“What are you doing in town on a school day?” I asked, slipping into cop mode.

“Study leave,” Jason said, but he wouldn’t meet my gaze, so I knew that was a pile of lies.

“Shouldn’t you be studying, then?” I asked Jason.

“He’s all yours,” Benny muttered to Jason, then slipped past us before I could stop him.

Jason half-waved at Connor. “Hi, Connor.”

“Hey back,” Connor answered. “What are you supposed to be studying?” he asked, leaning against the wall with that easy, confident air he always had.

Jason let out a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. “I finished all my stuff for today.”

“It’s early.”

“I started even earlier.” I could see Jason’s familiar stubborn expression. “Anyway, Mom wants me to work on college applications.” He tilted his chin as if that got him out of the not-studying thing we had going on here.

“So, you should probably be doing that?”

Jason examined his nails, then forced his hands into the pockets of his slouchy jeans. “I’m just having a break.”

“Your mom wouldn’t⁠—”

“Which college?” Connor interrupted, his tone casual, but I could tell he was genuinely curious, so I didn’t scowl too hard.

“I don’t know yet,” Jason admitted, his shoulders slumping.

Connor tilted his head, studying the kid. “What do you like doing?”

Jason blinked, confused as if it was the first time anyone had ever asked him. I’m sure I’d asked him that. Right? After all, I was a good uncle. He loved me, I loved him, and I’m sure I would have talked to him about colleges. Guilt twinged. Maybe I hadn’t been the best uncle with everything happening with Dad.

“I like games,” Jason said slowly, as if testing the waters. “I mean, not just playing them. I like using Unity and messing around with C# to create stuff.” He glanced at me then, a bit uncertain. “Although, maybe I’ll be sheriff? I mean, Grandpa would like me to do it,” Jason said, his voice a bit smaller now. “He keeps saying⁠—”

“You have to do what you want,” I interrupted, hating that I agreed with Connor but knowing it was true. Much to Bessie’s dismay, Dad was all over Jason to study law or criminology or skip college altogether—anything to get him into the sheriff’s office.

Jason glanced between us, shy and embarrassed before mumbling about getting home to study and hurrying off before I could impart words of wisdom. I watched him go, unsure what to say, the awkwardness lingering like a sour taste.

When I turned around, Connor was already back in his superhero pose, with his arms crossed, looking like he was ready to take on the world.

“Did you always want to be sheriff?” he asked me out of nowhere.

“Since I was five,” I said, not missing a beat. “Did you always want to be in the Navy?”

“Since I was five,” he said.

“Okay then.”

“Okay then.”

And with that weird but simple exchange of information, he strode off, leaving me more confused than ever. He was frustrating and irritating, and now, with that small piece of personal insight, Connor had somehow managed to unsettle me even more.

I shook my head, trying to clear it as I headed into the office. I’d already had Abraham changing his story about the rifle incident, claiming Connor was a hero, and who knew what was true anymore. I had Lewis way too close to retiring. Despite desperately searching for funding to keep Wyatt, I had to write references for him, as he applied to other small-town offices. Worse, I had a list of places for Dad to go for care that needed researching. Mom wanted me to check out every single one for criminal activity—just another thing for her to create worry in her head about. Today had already started messy; it didn’t look as if it would get any easier, and having to deal with Connor wasn’t making it any simpler.

“Sheriff,” Solomon greeted me. I gave him a quick smile, then headed for coffee.

Anything to get me through the day.

There was no way I’d consciously used the alley to the back entrance to have a moment with Connor.

No. Way.

The day continued as expected, a steady stream of the usual headaches and paperwork that never seemed to end. I was stuck balancing the budget, hands-down the worst part of the job. Funding for the sheriff’s office came from a mix of county allocations and state grants, but it was never enough to cover everything we needed. Deputy salaries were the most significant chunk of the budget, and while the county was responsible for paying them, I was the one who had to stretch those dollars to cover training, equipment, and overtime. It was a constant juggling act, ensuring we had the resources to keep the town safe without bankrupting the department. It was a closer call in some months than I liked to admit.

But I wanted to keep Wyatt. With Lewis and Solomon so close to retiring, I was desperate to get Wyatt to stay and be the next generation in the sheriff’s office alongside me.

I didn’t want him to move off now, not when he was getting to know the town and was such a good deputy.

I was three hours deep into wrangling numbers when Solomon came in. I was trying to figure out how to make everything work without cutting corners, and I had to shut down the instant flare of irritation as I lost count again.

“There’s an issue at the diner, sheriff,” he said. “You might wanna get over there.”

“Can Lewis or Wyatt handle it?”

“Lewis is with his wife at the doctor’s. Wyatt isn’t on for another thirty, and I think this is a you thing.”

I sighed, already feeling the headache forming behind my eyes. “What’s going on?”

“It’s Phil Monroe,” Solomon said, and I didn’t need to hear more. What was he doing now? “And Connor.”

Connor? For fuck’s sake.

“What.” I wasn’t asking. I was already up and out of my office, yanking my jacket from the hook and shaking it before putting it on. It still had that faint dampness from the storms, and I winced at the cold against my skin.

“Mark me out,” I called back to Solomon, who sketched a salute.

I jogged the short distance, and there was Phil’s truck, parked squarely in the handicapped space again, and Connor was stopping him from leaving, leaning against the beaten-up Buick as if he had all the time in the world. Phil was a good ten feet away, pacing, angry at Connor but too nervous to get any closer.

I could feel the tension, and the ridiculousness of this hit me. Connor glanced at me, a slight smirk playing on his lips as if daring me to say something about him leaning on someone else’s property.

“Phil,” I called out as I walked over, keeping my tone even. “You know you can’t park there.”

Phil turned to me, his face red with frustration. “I wasn’t going to be long, Sheriff! But this guy”—he jabbed a finger in Connor’s direction—“won’t let me leave!”

I stared at Connor, who shrugged as if to say, What are you gonna do about it?

I bit back my irritation, focusing on Phil. “Move your truck, Phil.”

“I can’t when he won’t let me.”

“Let the man go, Connor!” I said with exaggerated patience.

After a pause, Connor straightened and strolled away from the car.

“Get in your car, Phil! You’ve been warned once today, and you’re getting a ticket for this.”

Phil opened his mouth to argue, but one glance at Connor, who now stood beside me, was enough to change his mind. He grumbled under his breath, then shuffled over to his truck, giving Connor a wide berth as he climbed inside. I scribbled down the details on the ticket, pressing harder than necessary as I filled out the information.

Once I was done, I tore the ticket from the pad and handed it to him, ensuring he knew this wasn’t a suggestion. “You have ten days to pay,” I said, keeping my voice firm. “You can handle it online or in person at the courthouse. Don’t make me come after you for it.”

Phil took the ticket, his face a mix of irritation and resignation. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll get it done,” he grumbled, folding the ticket and shoving it into his glovebox.

“See that you do,” I replied, not letting up. “Don’t let me catch you parked in that spot again, or it’ll be more than just a fine.”

He gestured at Connor. “You gonna have words with this asshole? Sitting on my car like he owned it.”

I held in my reaction. Connor should not have been leaning there. He was causing an obstruction and could have damaged the car, but Phil shouldn’t have parked in the space again.

“You can go now, Phil.”

He mumbled something under his breath before turning to leave. I watched him go, ensuring he drove off without any more incidents.

As Phil drove off, I turned back to Connor, who was watching me with an infuriatingly smug expression.

“What the f—what was that?” I asked.

Connor raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying my frustration. “Nothing. Just helping, Sheriff.”

“Yeah, well, maybe try not helping at all next time,” I shot back, though my heart wasn’t in it.

For a split second, I saw it—a flash of that pain in his eyes again, raw and unguarded, and it reminded me of the look I’d seen earlier. Was there more going on with him than he was letting on? He seemed on edge, brittle, as if something would make him snap.

For a second, I wondered about checking him for weapons in case he did snap. What did I know about Connor Mason apart from the fact he loved to needle me, wanted to take me for a beer, had kissed me, and got in my way? I’d run all the background checks I could, and Quinn vouched for him. Hell, anyone connected to Quinn and Lennox Ranch vouched for him.

I shook my head, pushing the thought of Connor losing his shit away. I had enough to deal with without trying to figure out what was happening in Connor’s head.

“Don’t you have something better to do?” I asked him, my tone sharper than I intended.

“Just looking after my town, Sheriff,” Connor replied, his voice smooth and unbothered. Then he turned and strolled away as if he hadn’t been a part of what had happened, as if the whole interaction meant nothing to him.

Watching him leave, I couldn't shake one question: what did Connor Mason really do all day? Always around, yet somehow out of reach when it came to figuring out what he was up to. He worked security for Quinn, yeah, but what else? It wasn’t as though Whisper Ridge was full of danger.

As he walked away, my gaze followed him—tracing the way his leather jacket hugged his muscular frame, how his jeans fit snugly over his firm ass and powerful thighs, and the way his broad shoulders moved with each step. I wasn’t staring. Not really. I was just… observing.

But then, as if sensing my thoughts, Connor turned his head and caught me checking him out. He didn’t miss a beat, his lips curling into that infuriating grin before he winked at me.

I could feel the heat rising in my face, but I refused to give him the satisfaction of looking away first. Instead, I stood there, arms crossed, watching him disappear around the corner, my mind a tangled mess of irritation, confusion, and something else I didn’t want to admit.

Lust. Or anger? Or both?

Or just angry lust.

Fuck my life.

By the time I returned to the office, Wyatt had clocked on, and he and Lewis were talking over by the water cooler. I could have told them to monitor the parking situation—on Phil and Connor. Instead, I retreated to my office and the safety of numbers.

“Sheriff?” Lewis leaned in, his voice hesitant. “Can I get a word?”

“Sausage is a word,” I replied, the joke slipping out before I could stop it. Lewis blinked at me, and it was obvious he didn’t get the humor. Why would he? This was a place of work, and here I was, cracking jokes as if I was losing my grip on reality. I sighed and rubbed the back of my neck. “Sorry, come in.” I pushed the budget figures to one side, piling up the paper I’d been scribbling on. “What’s up?”

He hovered just inside the door, and I could tell something was weighing on him.

“Is Claire okay?” I asked. “Solomon said you were at the doctor.”

“Had a bit of a scare, but she’s okay.”

I didn’t push for details, and he was working his way up to something big, so I gave him time. This was it. Retirement. I knew it in my bones.

“Sheriff, I’ve been thinking a lot lately,” Lewis began, his tone serious. “About my wife, the grandkids … about everything. I’ve put a date on retiring—December 20th. Figure it’s time.”

The words hit me like a punch to the gut, though I shouldn’t have been surprised. Lewis had been hinting at this for a while, discussing spending more time with his family. But hearing it out loud made it real.

“That’s…” Okay, I didn’t have any words.

“I’ve seen what’s happened to your dad, Neil,” he continued, his voice filled with regret. “And I don’t want to wait until I’m too old or too sick to enjoy the time I have left. I know it’s not something happening to me, and I don’t mean to cause upset to you, Neil, but it’s … hard to watch Garrett lose himself, you know? He should have been able to retire and live his life, but instead…”

His voice trailed off, but I knew what he meant. My dad should have had those golden years, but they were being taken from him, piece by piece.

“Maybe now you can ask Wyatt to stay,” Lewis added, his tone lightening.

I could go on about legacy funding, about how, if Lewis left, I wasn’t sure what budget I could secure to replace him with a single permanent deputy. Instead, I nodded, the weight of his words settling in.

“I get it. You’ve more than earned this. You’ve done your time and deserve to enjoy the years ahead. My dad… he should have had that too.”

We stood there for a moment, the unspoken understanding hanging between us. Lewis was making the right call, and I respected the hell out of him for it.

“Thanks, Sheriff,” he said, his voice thick with emotion as he extended his hand.

I gripped it. “Thank you, Lewis. For everything.”

We shook hands, and then he gave me a nod, turned, and headed out to finish his shift. I leaned back in my chair as the door closed behind him, staring at where he’d stood.

The idea of asking Wyatt to stay … maybe there was something to that. Legacy funding or not, this town needed good people.

So, I returned to my figures to try to make it work.

Chapter Nine

CONNOR

I sat in front of my laptop, the screen filled with search results, reports, and bits of information I’d been collating for a case Oberon had thrown my way. Some CEO was embezzling funds, and it was up to me to dig up the dirt. This was my downtime now, piecing together clues and tracking people down from the comfort of my place over the diner.

It wasn’t like the old days, out in the field, but it kept my skills sharp and me busy. Oberon and Trick had their security firm, and every so often, they’d throw me a bone—like this one. I picked up jobs here and there, the real heavy lifting handled by Carter, who ran their systems. He was damn good at what he did, a real finding-a-needle-in-a-sea-of-needles kind of guy.

Not that I needed the money—the retainer Quinn paid me as his security guy was insane, but it wasn’t as if he needed me—but I needed direction.

I couldn’t shake the feeling of restlessness that had been gnawing at me for weeks as I clicked through files and scanned data. The danger to Quinn had passed, and with it, the purpose I’d clung to for so long. Quinn didn’t need a trained former SEAL with a particular set of skills hanging around him anymore. He was safe, settled, and happy with Levi. And that left me … bored.

What the hell was I supposed to do now? Move into security full-time? Guarding the rich and famous? Taking a bullet for people I didn’t give a damn about? The idea made my skin crawl. I didn’t want that. But the truth was, I didn’t know what I wanted. I was rootless, restless, drifting without an anchor.

Oberon knew that, and when I phoned in the results of what I’d found for this case, he was on me like white on rice.

“Have you thought more about the offer?” he said before I managed to get off the line.

Oberon had offered me a third of the company alongside him and Trick. It was a solid offer, something I could rely on. But it wasn’t what I wanted.

“I do nothing but think.”

“And?” Oberon asked, his voice steady.

I sat there, staring at the wall, trying to find an answer that would make sense. “I don’t know,” I admitted, the words bitter in my mouth.

“You should get out of small-town Wyoming,” he said, always practical. “Head to LA. I’ve got a place you can stay until you figure things out.”

Leaving Whisper Ridge… The thought twisted something deep in my gut. It would mean leaving behind the friends I’d made here, those I called family. It would mean leaving Neil behind.

Neil. I couldn’t get him out of my head. The way he challenged me pushed me in ways I hadn’t expected. He was a big reason I’d stuck around this long. Hell, maybe the only reason. But what kind of future did I have here? Rootless, restless, and with no clear direction. Could I keep drifting like this? Or did I need to take Oberon up on his offer, leave it all behind, and start fresh somewhere new?

A thought gnawed at the back of my mind, refusing to let go. Is Neil something I actually want, or is he just something to pass the time because I’m bored? It was a brutal question, but I’d never been one to shy away from the hard truths. The chase, the tension, the way he always kept me on edge—it was intoxicating, sure. But was that all there was to it? Was I searching for a distraction, something to fill the void now that Quinn didn’t need me anymore? Was Neil just another challenge, something to conquer because I didn’t know what else to do?

Despite my attempts to believe otherwise, the pull I felt toward Neil wasn’t solely about filling the empty spaces in life. It was about him, about the way he made me feel, about the possibility of something real. And that was scarier than any enemy I’d ever faced.

I leaned back in my chair, staring at the screen without seeing it. I was torn between the need for something more and the fear of losing what I’d found here in Whisper Ridge. I didn’t know what I wanted, but I knew one thing for sure—I wasn’t ready to leave. Not yet. Not while there was still something worth sticking around for.

“Thank you,” I began.

“It’s still a no,” Oberon finished with a chuckle. “Offer always stands.”

“Thank you,” I repeated.

And then he ended the call.

Now what?

The rain had started again, a steady downpour that seemed to soak the world in shades of gray. I grabbed a to-go cup from the diner, nodding at Merle as I headed out. The plan was to take a walk and clear my head. It was a loop around town, nothing special. But as if I had no control over my feet, I stood outside the sheriff’s office only to see him getting into his SUV.

Where was he heading?

What did I have to lose by trying to follow him?

Something inside me kicked into gear, and before I knew it, I was jogging, cutting through alleys, taking the shortcuts I knew so well. I stuck to the trees, leaping over stumps and puddles, my breathing steady, the thrill of the chase pulsing through my veins.

I watched the rain come down harder, sitting on his porch when Neil stopped in his driveway. For a moment, I didn’t think he’d seen me as he ran through the rain, hood on his coat up, then trying to shake off the water when he was under the porch cover, and I couldn’t help but stare as he spotted me and stiffened. His footsteps faltered as he reached the first step. He looked at me as if I was the last person he expected to see, and maybe I was. His eyes were so damn blue, like the sky after a storm, and I wanted nothing more than to drown in them.

Desire hit me hard, a wave of want so strong it almost took me out at the knees. I’d been drawn to Neil since I met him but seeing him like this made me ache.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, exasperation clear in his voice.

I shrugged, playing it cool despite my pounding heart. “I went for a run.”

“In your coat?” His eyes narrowed, suspicious.

“It’s raining,” I replied, as if that explained everything.

Neil sighed, clearly frustrated. He climbed the steps, shaking his head, and I stood to meet him. This time, Neil closed the distance, crowding me into the shadows of the porch. The rain drummed on the roof, creating a private little world for us.

“Why won’t you leave me alone?” he asked, his voice low, almost desperate.

“Do you want me to? Really?” I asked, my voice soft, but the challenge was there.

He hesitated, his eyes searching mine, and for a moment, I thought he might say no. But then he breathed out, “Yes.”

“Okay,” I remained calm, although everything inside me screamed at the thought of walking away.

“What?” His confusion was unmistakable, as if he hadn’t expected me to agree.

“I just need to get my goodbye kiss,” I said, and before he could respond, I reached out, grabbed him by the hood of his coat, and pulled him closer. He was a breath away, and I released my hold and waited for him to step back or punch me. He did neither. He stared at me, his expression unreadable. “You can stop me,” I murmured, kissing him and waiting.

His hands were on me in an instant, gripping my arms as he kissed me, then holding me as if he couldn’t get enough. The kiss was rough and desperate, leaving me breathless and aching for more.

I let my hands wander, wishing I could feel the solid muscle I knew was beneath his coat, desperate for the heat of his skin beneath my fingertips. He would be so warm, and I wanted to lose myself in him, to forget everything except how he made me feel. But as quickly as it started, he pulled back, breathless and confused.

“That was some goodbye kiss,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper, and then I turned and walked away, the rain swallowing the sound of my footsteps.

As I left, I could still taste him on my lips, feel the press of his body against mine.

What was I playing at?

And why couldn’t I stop?

Chapter Ten

NEIL

It had been five days since that kiss on the porch and a week since the storm, but the evidence of both still circled me. For some reason, Connor was staying away, and it confused me, irritated me, and left me relieved at the same time.

The storm’s powerful impact remained, particularly to the west of town. The roads bore the brunt of the damage, and the crew from Wyoming Roads and Highways were out fixing whatever they deemed an emergency, which meant the main road out of the town was blocked. Drivers had to take a detour that extended their journey from one mile to fifteen miles, and the office phone never stopped ringing with complaints about the inconvenience. There wasn’t much I could do as sheriff except reassure people that everything was scheduled as much as possible, considering how badly other towns had been hit.

If I wasn’t avoiding the phones, I was avoiding anywhere Connor might be. This meant no visits to the diner and no decent breakfast or coffee, leading to one grumpy sheriff. It was shit that I didn’t see him, and I still couldn’t get him or his kisses out of my head. What was wrong with the man?

I was the sheriff who kept everything in order. But Connor? He was chaos incarnate, and right now, I needed control.

Which is something I didn’t have whenever Mom called.

“I get that, Mom,” I said for the tenth time in this conversation. Dad was ornery—her words, not mine. He couldn’t understand why he couldn’t drive to visit his buddy Clive in Collier Springs.

Clive, who’d died five years ago.

“I don’t know what to do…” She started to cry, and my heart hurt for her and my dad, but in a different way. He and I might not have been close, but I was his family, and it hurt that he was slowly becoming less than he wanted to be. “I don’t know how to stop him from leaving!”

“All the doors are locked, right?”

“Of course, I’m a prisoner in my own home!” Mom snapped and then sobbed. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m sorry. This isn’t on you.”

“It’s okay, Mom, I love you. Have you tried putting on M*A*S*H?”

“That was the first thing.”

“What about his phone?”

“It’s charging. I can give it to him in a moment.”

“That will help.”

“It’s at fifty-three percent. Is that enough?”

“Sure, Mom.” I made a mental note to buy some backup phones so this charging issue wouldn’t happen again.

“It’s not fair, Neil. We were supposed to travel.”

When Dad retired, they’d talked about traveling and seeing the world, but then he’d fallen ill, and everything had been downhill from that point on. It broke my heart to see him so old and infirm and Mom so broken.

“I know, Mom. I’m sorry, I have to go, but I’ll check in with you at lunchtime, okay? As soon as I can.”

“Okay, sweetie, I’m sorry I called. I just…”

“It’s okay, Mom. You can always call me anytime.”

My cell vibrated, and a message from Connor lit the screen on my work-issued phone. It was for people to contact me about the job, not about whatever fresh hell he was doing.

Connor: Morning Sheriff. Long time no see.

Connor: One beer?

Connor: Maybe nachos?

Connor: I won’t touch you.

Connor: Unless you want me to

Neil: This is a work phone.

Neil: Stop messaging this number.

Connor: One beer, and I’ll stop

Neil: No

I waited with morbid fascination for another message, but nothing came through, and even that pissed me off.

Fuck, it was as if he had no respect for my position at all. He lived only to mess with my town’s rules and my carefully maintained boundaries, and now he was pushing it with me. I still had outstanding paperwork on the Abraham Wild rifle case, which wasn’t going away soon, even though Abraham wasn’t pressing charges. Not to mention, I still felt anger when I imagined the landslide at the ranch swallowing Connor whole because he’d been an idiot.

Anger. Frustration.

Lust.

But damn, the way he had held me, the way he’d touched me. At that moment, he’d owned me. The kiss was fierce and consuming, a force of nature matching the storm outside. It was as if all the pent-up frustration and tension between us had exploded into that one electrifying moment. His lips were demanding, his grip possessive, and I felt a spark I’d never experienced.

And then I’d kissed him back like some horny teenager by the bike racks after school.

I couldn't forget the feel of his body against mine, the taste of him, and how he made me lose control. The attraction I felt for Connor was undeniable, a pull to the danger in him I couldn't rationalize away. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw and felt him, which drove me crazy. The intensity of that kiss lingered, a constant reminder of our raw connection. Connor had gotten under my skin, and despite my efforts to push it aside, the memory of that kiss kept resurfacing, leaving me confused and unsettled.

“… I said I wanted to sue them for lost time. Can I do that?”

I’d been half listening to Gary Thompson, who’d spent ten minutes on the phone complaining about the detour around town. He had a point, but his constant whining started grating on my nerves after the first minute.

“I’m not a lawyer, Mr. Thompson. I suggest you call someone in Collier Springs to see if they can help.”

He huffed and sighed, and I hoped the blustering would calm. He might threaten to sue the county, but would he follow through?

“I’ll do that, Sheriff,” he concluded after a prolonged pause.

“Goodbye, Mr. Thompson.”

The door opened as soon as the call ended, as if the person outside had waited for me to finish the damn call. Bessie flew in like her ass was on fire.

Seeing my sister so flustered could only mean one thing, and I was already standing.

“Is it Dad?” I asked, but she shook her head and settled herself in the opposite chair, and I sat down again. “I just thought… Mom called, saying he wanted to see Clive.” I didn’t mean to mention that to make Bessie feel guilty, but she flushed and dipped her head.

“I’m sorry she called you. I know I was on the list to help Mom today, but she insists on calling you with everything now you’re the man of the house.” Her sigh was filled with frustration. “I can’t stop her.”

“It’s okay, sis. I meant nothing by it. I can handle it.” Sometimes.

“I need you to do me a huge favor,” she began without hesitation.

“You want to sue someone as well?” I deadpanned.

Her eyes widened. “What? No.”

“Then what? Is everything okay?”

“You know how Jason is your favorite nephew…”

“He’s my only nephew, sis.”

She quirked a smile. “Well, it would help if you took Jason on for a week of work experience.”

What? No. “I don’t⁠—”

“Neil, please.”

“—have the manpower,” I finished, and she stared at me.

“A week,” she pleaded. Her tone was desperate and determined, and she was shouldering Mom’s worries as much as me in her own way, not to mention she had a family and held down a full-time job. At least I was single, so it was easy to assume I had free time.

Even if work consumed me.

“He’s a good kid, and I need him to…” She sighed with extra drama. “He’s always in his room.”

“Teenagers live in their room.”

“He didn’t used to.”

“He turned seventeen, it’s a thing,” I reminded her.

Jason was a typical teenager—loud and opinionated about all kinds of things, but then just as quickly glued to his phone for hours. We used to be best buddies, but that was when I was the cool uncle. Then, overnight, he became moody and uncommunicative, and I was waiting for him to get through to the other side and back to being the nephew who wanted to talk to me. I tried to connect with him at family dinners and school events. Still, I remember being seventeen, albeit without the added pressure of a phone and social media, and the last thing I wanted then was adults getting in my space.

Bessie crossed her arms and pouted. “He’s seventeen, Connor. He’s applying to colleges. This could be good for him, give him a sense of responsibility.”

“Yeah, but does he even want to do this?” I countered. “He likes computers and games,” I added, recalling what he’d told me and Connor. I waited for her to defend him, but hell, there was no defending a teenager when you got to be as old as we were. What happened when I was in my thirties meant I was worried about connecting with my town’s youth.

“He needs structure. You know how smart he is, but he lacks direction. He respects you, Neil,” she insisted, “and it would get him out of the house when I have Mom and Dad over.”

Damn it, she played the ace.

I sighed, leaning back in my chair. “And what am I supposed to do with him? I’ve got road repairs causing chaos, a new deputy-in-training who I’m about to lose, another deputy retiring, and three minor investigations sitting on my desk, not to mention so much paperwork after the storm I could fill this room.”

And Connor, with his kisses and his chaos.

“I want to help but…”

Bessie sighed and then leaned forward, a glint in her eye. “Remember when you switched salt for the sugar the day before Mom was baking for the church sale?”

I groaned, the memory flashing vividly in my mind. Those salty cakes were still the talk of the town, and Mom had never understood how she’d managed to mix the two things up. “You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, I would … unless you give me this for Jason,” she threatened, smirking.

I threw my hands up in mock surrender. “Fine, you win. Jason can get some experience here.”

“Starting tomorrow?”

I hesitated and then sighed. “Not tomorrow but I’ll fix things and let you know, okay?”

Bessie beamed, her victory complete. “You won’t regret this, Neil.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I muttered, shaking my head. “If he’s anything like you were, I’m in for a world of trouble. And don’t forget it was you encouraging me to switch out the sugar.”

She laughed, the sound bringing a rare moment of lightness between us when we’d usually be talking about Dad. Still, we were a family expert in denial, and we were fraying at the seams.

I watched her leave, the weight of her request settling on my shoulders. Jason Thompson, nephew and current grumpy-ass teen in my office. Just what I need.

I flicked through documents, bemoaning the bureaucracy that kept me cooped up in the office and stressing over what I could have in place for Jason. I wanted to get outside, to feel the fresh air, tackle something tangible, or at least get a coffee. The endless paperwork was enough to drive anyone crazy.

Thank God the phone rang. The worst part was that I’d take a local complaining about the roads over the forms, and I picked it up, grateful for the distraction. “Sheriff.”

“It’s Levi up at the Lennox Ranch. Can you get up here? The geotechnical engineer surveying the land has a drone out, and they’ve found something. They won’t let us near whatever they found but wanted me to call you in.”

“Is there a danger to the town?” I was already up from my desk, but specifics would at least let me form a plan.

“He said it’s not about the slip, but he won’t show me or Micah the footage.”

A mystery, and one that was anything but paperwork. “On my way.”

I ended the call, feeling a surge of relief and curiosity. Finally, something would get me out of this office. Grabbing my hat and keys, I was eager to see what the engineer had discovered and why it was so urgent that they needed the sheriff. I headed out of my office and into the main area, where Solomon was hunched over his desk.

“Solomon, I’m heading out to the Lennox Ranch. Levi just called. Engineers found something, and they need me there,” I said. “What time is Wyatt on call?” I asked, already knowing the answer but needing confirmation.

“An hour,” Solomon replied, glancing up from a pile of hellish paperwork almost as big as mine.

“Get him in early to cover the office, and when he’s here, get him to clear the desk at the back of the file room.”

Solomon raised an eyebrow. “The junk desk? What’s Wyatt going to do with the junk?”

I sighed, glancing around the cluttered office. “He’ll find somewhere—call it a training exercise on using ingenuity. Jason will be joining us for work experience and will need a place to work.”

Solomon’s eyes widened slightly, but he nodded. “Got it, Sheriff.”

I almost made it to the door. “Sheriff?”

“Yeah?”

“I hate to ask, but could you run a welfare check on Abe at some point? Maybe in the morning?”

“You can always ask, and of course, I’ll prioritize it for tomorrow.”

“Thank you.”

With that promise made, I headed out to my car.

In the SUV heading up to the ranch, Connor and Abraham were two issues I could push to one side, and instead, I had to deal with a slight sense of dread about what I might find at the ranch. I hoped it wasn’t that the landslip was threatening the town somehow, although I couldn’t see how it would.

As I pulled up to the Lennox Ranch, I saw someone standing by the cars, looking anxious. I guessed this was the geotechnical engineer. He was a tall man dressed in practical outdoor gear; his expression serious as he waved me over.

“Sheriff Windham?” he asked as I approached, and we shook hands. “Dr. Reese. EarthTech Soil Solutions.”

“What have you found?” I asked, my curiosity piqued but my chest tight at what he might say about erosion or slippage. Whisper Ridge was a good community; neither our town nor Collier Springs deserved a mountain sliding down on them.

Pessimism alert.

He seemed edgy—not as if he was going to deliver bad news, but that whatever he’d seen had spooked him.

“I was conducting a preliminary survey, and ... well, look.” He held up a tablet, showing me footage from a drone. The video was clear as the drone circled the area, and I saw the total damage of the landslide, the scar black against the green of the wild meadows that had once been on either side of the boulders and the stream. Then he paused at one specific spot and zoomed in as best he could. The clarity diminished, and instead, the screen displayed a grainy image of what appeared to be luggage scattered at the base of the central hole. Among them was something else that made my blood run cold—holy shit, it looked like bones.

“We found these just beyond the ridge,” the engineer explained. “It’s likely nothing, y’know. We’ve seen this before from animal remains, but there are the suitcases. We didn’t want to disturb anything until you got here.”

I studied the footage, my mind racing. I’d seen bones unearthed in excavations on properties, some from a slip in the graveyard when I was no older than five. I recalled seeing them yellowed, not the white I’d imagined, and I wondered about the last things the animals or humans had seen. My mum called it my creative side, and my dad patted me on the back and said I’d make an excellent sheriff one day.

Sheriff won out. I was as creative as a brick wall.

“Probably animal,” I said.

“Sure.” He nodded as if he was happy to go along with that assessment, or maybe he was convincing himself of it, as I was. “I instructed my team not to go any closer without your go-ahead.”

“How many are on your team?”

“Three. Will and Anna are waiting at the scene with the property owner, Mr. Lennox.”

I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the situation settle on my shoulders. Micah was up there already—what did he know about what the engineers found? “All right. Show me exactly where this is.”

I called it in to Solomon, my voice steady despite the churn of thoughts in my head. Lewis was off duty—Wyatt was my only remaining deputy. “Dispatch, I need you to get Wyatt up here to join me at the Lennox Ranch and ensure he brings all our evidence bags and gloves. Hell, tell him to bring the whole kit from the list.”

“I got it, Sheriff,” Solomon replied with curiosity in his tone, but now wasn’t the time to explain.

I grabbed the roll of caution tape from my SUV and headed up with Doctor Reese to the site. As I approached, I saw Micah to one side, finishing a call. He crossed his arms over his chest, staring into the distance with a troubled expression. It must be unsettling to have people crawling all over the property. Though in the light of day, while the damage was extensive, it was far from the main ranch house and not in any direction that would affect the town.

I acknowledged Micah with a nod. “Hey, Micah. How are you holding up?”

He shrugged, still staring into the distance. “Could be better.”

I gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder, and after the engineer assured me the ground there was safe, I crouched as close to the edge as I could.

Twenty feet down, I could see two cases. They looked old, with no wheels, possibly leather, and half-rotted. One of them had muddy contents escaping from it. I glanced back at the barn uphill, listing precariously. It had tape around it, marking it as a condemned building, with half missing. In the center was the distinct shape of the well, destroyed and sagging as if the entire thing had sunk into the ground.

I scanned back to the hole and the direction of the landslip. Could everything have come from the well? It seemed possible. The floodwaters might have dislodged them, sending them tumbling down the hill.

“Dr. Reese,” I called out, not taking my eyes off the scene below, “is there any chance these cases could have come from that well?”

He stepped closer, peering down at me. “It’s entirely possible, Sheriff. Given the direction of the slide, they could have been dislodged from there.”

“And the bones?”

He shrugged as if he didn’t want to commit to anything. “Animal, maybe?”

I guessed that was a question for Micah and his family over whether, in the past, animals who’d passed were pitched into the well or could have stumbled in. I doubted the first, and the well wall had been built a good five feet above the floor of an old barn.

I nodded. “All right, I’ll need to secure this area and start figuring out how to retrieve those cases and what else is down there. Can your team get me down there?”

Dr. Reese was horrified. “We’re not insured for that,” he said. “You’ll need to call in specialists.”

I gestured at the rope and pulley system. “You can’t use that?”

“Health and Safety, Sheriff. Can’t use them for anything other than geophysical retrieval and assessment.” He tilted his chin.

At last, Micah tore his gaze from the distance, but his expression was pinched, and he was pale as he checked his phone. The tension left him, and I glanced at where he was staring. Wyatt turned up with extra tape, but it wasn’t my deputy he was staring at—it was Connor, who’d arrived with him.

As I secured the tape around the area, I was drawn to Connor. He was focused on Micah and led him away so they could talk privately. My suspicious side was out and proud—why would Connor be here and talking about something with Micah? His shoulders were back, but he was loose, ready to leap into action at any moment. There was an air of danger and tension radiating from him. He’d slipped into soldier mode—no, sailor mode, given he’d been a SEAL.

Connor glanced back at the surroundings with an intensity that made it clear he was assessing every possible threat, every potential piece of evidence. His muscles were coiled, as if he were ready to spring, and it was like watching a predator in its element. The storm might have passed, but standing there, Connor looked like he was preparing for a battle that could break out any second.

Moments like these reminded me just how capable he was and why he was both a thorn in my side and someone I respected. His instincts were sharp, but what the hell was he doing here?

And why did Micah tug him away?

Chapter Eleven

CONNOR

When Micah called and said he needed help, I’d headed straight here. I expected something to do with Quinn, hence including me, and the urgency, but this was something else. Firstly, there was no sign of Quinn, who was at the lawyer’s office for something to do with his trust fund. Then, I met Wyatt down at the ranch house, and he’d chatted to me about how he was taking evidence bags up to the sheriff because Micah had found something, or someone had—he wasn’t sure what was going on. He never once asked me what I was doing when I joined him in walking the path to the landslide.

The benefit of me acting as though I belonged.

However, I couldn’t imagine Neil overlooking my presence as easily.

When I arrived at the chasm in the ground—which looked less scary in daylight—Neil was there with a group of people. It wasn’t Neil who took my attention but a very pale Micah, who grabbed my hand and tugged me away.

“What’s wrong?” When we stopped, I cut to the chase after Micah deemed the distance enough.

“There’s a gun down there,” he said under his breath.

I blinked at him, swiftly transitioning from interested to focused. I glanced back at Neil and the rest, who peered over the edge of the hole.

“A gun, where? In the hole?”

“It was in the well, and the landslide took down the side of it, and what if the watercourse took the gun from the well, and anyone could find it now.” He stopped and rubbed a hand on his chest.

“They can see a gun?” I thumbed behind me, but Micah shook his head, so pale and shaky I rested a hand on his arm.

“No, but…”

“Start from the beginning.”

“It’s the gun that…” He glanced at me. “The one that was used to kill Callum Prince.”

“Why do you…” I stopped when I realized what Micah having the gun might mean. “Shit.”

Callum Prince. The depraved, psychopathic monster in charge of the Brothers of Chiron cult, the one where my cousin had gone and vanished. The one who had held Micah’s sister Rachel prisoner when she was pregnant on two occasions. I knew Callum was dead. I’d seen the photos of his twisted, burned remains, all that was left of him and others, including kids after he’d torched the buildings in a murder-suicide pact.

But Micah had a gun used to shoot Callum?

Had he died before the fire? I wasn’t sure there’d been the impetus to examine things in detail, given some of the high-profile kids who had been lured into being part of the cult. A ton of evidence had been suppressed, and I only knew that because I’d gotten hold of original photos.

But if Callum was already dead, shot before Micah had gotten Rachel out, and before the fire that destroyed everything, then who set the fire?

“Who was the last person to handle the gun?” I asked. Who’d killed Callum?

Who do I need to protect?

“Me,” Micah met my gaze head-on, but I could see the lie in his eyes. He was protecting someone.

Rachel.

His sister had killed her husband. Micah was resolute in his decision to take the fall for the crime to protect his sister. I didn’t care who’d killed Callum, just knowing he was dead helped my aunt and uncle come to terms with losing Natalie. I was sorry I hadn’t been there because shooting him would have come right after torturing the fucker for what he’d done.

“How long has it been down there?”

“Since just before the first time you turned up, trying to track down Rachel.” He forced a hand through his hair, on edge, so stressed he wasn’t far from marching over and turning himself in before we even knew what they’d found. I remembered the time I’d headed up here clear as day, which was enough time for the constant flow of water to wash away skin cells, sweat, and any other trace evidence. I knew this all too well from my SEAL days—training missions where we had to retrieve weapons submerged in various conditions, always clean as a whistle when we pulled them out. The truth was that water was a natural eraser, and any evidence left on a weapon could be obliterated in days, if not hours.

“Okay, rationally, the gun has been down there a long time, so they’d be unlikely to find DNA.”

“But if there is a match to the gun from a bullet at the scene, and it’s found on our ranch where my sister and her kids live…” His hands were in fists again.

“You’re overthinking this.”

“It’s a fucking gun!” Micah snarled and stepped back from me.

“Keep your voice down,” I warned. “A lot of shit was buried about what happened at Chiron, I’ll fix the rest.”

“But, if it’s washed out, if it was still down there, in the hole...” He let out a sharp exhale. “I want it to fall on me. You have to promise to protect Rachel if I’m arrested.”

I touched his arm. “If anyone finds a weapon because subsidence pushed it out, I’ll fix everything. You have my word.”

He scrubbed his eyes and cursed. “I should have thrown it in the fucking river or, fuck, anywhere but on our property.”

“Keep your head straight,” I said, keeping my tone firm. “It will be a mess up there, but we have time. You need to stay calm and focus on the best-case scenario.”

“And what the fuck is that?” Micah snapped and then shook his head. “Shit, sorry.”

“Best case? The gun is long gone, and you have nothing to worry about.”

“And the worst case?”

“They find it.”

“Shit. Fuck!”

“I’ve got your back.”

Micah didn’t know it, but this extended family was under my protection, whether they liked it or not. They were my responsibility, and the thought of a mission of sorts brightened my day. I knew I’d fix whatever was found. I was so confident that I could almost feel the solution in my hands. There wasn’t a single doubt in my mind—I would ensure everything turned out fine. It was what I did, and no one would get hurt on my watch.

I approached Neil and gave a polite nod. “Sheriff.”

“Connor,” he replied, just as polite but with a touch of tension.

“What have we got?” I asked and leaned over. A quick assessment revealed battered suitcases and not much else. The rain had started up again, tiny rivulets of water running into the hole.

“You need to step away,” Neil said as he tugged at the crime scene tape and forced me to take a few steps away.

“What’s down there?” I asked.

“Nothing you need to worry about,” Neil said, his voice firm.

But I wasn’t about to be brushed off that easily. I ducked under the tape in one smooth movement and reached the edge. I could see the cases scattered at the bottom of the hole. Without a second thought, I levered myself over the side and down the steep incline, my training as a SEAL kicking in, keeping light on my feet, and moving with all the athleticism and precision ingrained in me.

At the bottom, I did a quick check, not touching anything. No gun was in sight, but I was up close with old luggage and bones. Neil descended just as fast, more of a slip-fall than a graceful descent, fury etched on his face. He reached my side in no time, his anger radiating off him.

“You’ve crossed the line this time, Connor,” Neil spat, pulling out his handcuffs. “I’m arresting you.”

I raised an eyebrow, more intrigued than worried. “For what?”

“Tampering with evidence,” he said, yanking my hands behind me and snapping the cuffs onto my wrists with a finality that brooked no argument. “You have the right to remain silent…”

“Jesus, Neil, I haven’t tampered with anything that nature didn’t already destroy,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm. This wasn’t the first time I’d pushed Neil’s buttons, and it wouldn’t be the last.

Neil’s face reddened, his temper high, and he leaned in and lowered his tone. “You’ve just dived headfirst into an active crime scene, Connor.”

“Someone needed to get the shit out of the hole,” I defended.

“Someone who isn’t you⁠—”

“—you’re down here, too.”

“I swear to god⁠—”

“And now it’s raining.”

“Jesus!”

The rain was heavier now, the hole’s sides glistened with moisture, and some of the mud was beginning to slip. It wasn’t dangerous yet, but we should consider getting out.

“How do you plan on getting me back up top with my hands cuffed?” I asked, all innocent, and his mouth fell open. I smirked, knowing my attitude only infuriated him more.

“I’ll call a damn helo out here to drag you up by your feet.” Neil’s jaw clenched, his eyes blazing with anger.

“Tied up in handcuffs and ropes?” I raised an eyebrow.

His lips thinned. “If that’s what it takes to get you out of here without you messing up more evidence, then yes, I will.”

I leaned closer, lowering my voice to a whisper. “If you wanted to get kinky, Neil, you just had to ask. I’ll even skip the beer.”

His face turned an even deeper shade of red, and for a moment, I thought he might explode. Instead, he took a deep breath, clearly trying to regain his composure. He knew as well as I did that he had to take off the damn handcuffs and that whatever had been exposed by the landslip had been compromised by years of earth and erosion.

Ignoring his anger, I crouched by the nearest case, balancing easily enough despite my hands being cuffed. The luggage closest to me was closed and smothered with mud, the other slightly open with contents visible. I glanced at the opposite side of the hole, where the bones lay partially exposed.

“This isn’t a game, Connor,” Neil said through gritted teeth. “Step away from the evidence.”

“I’m not touching it,” I replied, scanning the case. “Just observing. Isn’t it in your sheriff handbook that you can learn a lot from just looking?”

Neil stepped closer, his voice low and dangerous. “Get. Up. Now.”

I sighed again, pushing myself up to a standing position. “Fine, fine. But you’ll need to uncuff me if you want me to climb back out of here.”

Neil looked as if he were about to argue, but then he muttered a curse and reached for the keys. As he uncuffed me, I couldn’t resist one last jab.

“Admit it, Neil. You enjoy having me around. Makes life more interesting.”

He glared at me, but something else was in his eyes, almost like fire. “You’re still under arrest, Connor. Just shut up and start climbing.”

“How about we ask your deputy to throw down the evidence bags, and then we rope this stuff up and both get out of here before the rain makes the hole sink in on itself?” Neil’s jaw clenched. “We’re down here now, so we may as well get the job done.”

He gripped my arm before I could crouch again. “Get the fuck away from the crime scene.”

I bit my lip, forcing back concerns about potential guns and how I wanted to be here when whatever was here was collected. I couldn’t resist one last comment.

“So, you don’t want me in your hole.”

He took a step back and rested a hand on his holster, and I swear I saw murder in his expression.

I guess that was my answer.

Chapter Twelve

NEIL

What I hated the most was that Connor had a point. As much as I wanted to stay furious, to wallow in my anger and embarrassment, I couldn’t ignore that nagging truth. People were peering over the edge, watching me struggle to maintain control of the situation, and it infuriated me.

“We can’t wait for CSI,” Connor said. The scene was close to collapse and evidence could be lost entirely.

“I fu—I know that.”

He held up his hands in defense.

“Everything okay, Sheriff?” Wyatt called down, concern evident in his voice.

I gritted my teeth, trying to keep my composure. “Toss down the evidence bags and tie off some rope. Get the engineers to help you.”

As I waited for the supplies, I expected Connor to act smug, but instead, his gaze was fixed on the unearthed mess, scanning every inch. He was thoughtful and watchful, his shoulders back, and loose-limbed, and all I could think was, what was he checking for? Was I missing something?

And more important, why was I second-guessing myself?

As he continued studying the scene, I focused on the intensity in his eyes and how his muscles were relaxed but ready. Connor’s attention to detail was maddening. He seemed to notice things I overlooked, his mind working in ways that challenged me. Yes, he was black and white, and he put himself in situations he shouldn’t, but he also anticipated danger in everything, always prepared and always on alert. That must be so tiring.

I forced myself to focus, to push aside the growing unease I was missing something at the scene. I was the sheriff, and I needed to act like it.

The evidence bags, rope, and gloves were lowered, and I caught them, then I tossed a pair of gloves to Connor, but as I turned back to secure the rope, the side wall began to crumble.

“Neil!” Connor grabbed my arm and pulled me away as the wall collapsed, sending chunks of mud and rock tumbling into the hole.

“Thanks,” I muttered, the rain blurring my vision and making the situation more precarious.

“We need to get this up and out of here,” Connor said, and we worked together in a tense, focused silence, fastening and securing the ropes around the old, mud-covered luggage. Connor’s hands moved with a practiced efficiency to form complicated knots, and despite our differences, we both knew what needed to be done as the sides slipped again. If we weren’t careful, we’d also get buried under here.

This was fucking stupid. Why was I even in this damn hole?

Oh, yeah. Connor.

As the last of the luggage was lifted out, we both watched it ascend, the ropes straining but holding steady. Mud and water dripped from the case, splattering into the hole as it was pulled up, and that left the bones scattered and partially buried.

I took out my phone and began snapping photos of what I could. The bones weren’t handily laid out in a recognizable pattern that suggested an animal or person. They were a chaotic jumble half-hidden in the shifting mud. The rain had made everything more complicated, the ground unstable and treacherous.

“We need to get out of here,” Connor said, his voice cutting through the steady slam of heavier rain. “This mud will shift more if we’re not careful.”

“One more evidence bag,” I insisted, reaching for the last one, “for the bones.”

Connor hesitated for a second, then nodded. Together, we crouched down, collecting whatever bones we could find, some barely visible in the muck. We worked quickly, our movements in sync as we gathered as much of the mud-covered evidence we could. With the bag filled, I tied it off and looked at Connor. “All right, let’s get out of here.”

Connor nodded, and we made our way back to the rope. Wyatt took up the evidence bag, and Connor gestured for me to go first. He grabbed me around the waist, and I shook him off and then heard him curse.

“I’m just giving you a hand,” he muttered, and then placed his hands on my ass, shoving up so I wasn’t that far from the top, grabbing Wyatt and Micah’s outstretched hands and scrambling out. I turned round to help Connor as he pulled himself up and out, emerging from the hole covered in mud and grime.

“We need to get these evidence bags to the lab in Collier Springs—call in the ME,” I instructed Wyatt, my voice steady despite the lingering tension. “You need to stay with this here until…” I stopped when the ground moved, and the sides of the hole collapsed, exposing rock, shaking where we stood but not coming any closer.

“Bedrock,” Doctor Reese observed. “Should be stable now.”

If we wanted to find more bones, we’d have to excavate, but I couldn’t leave Wyatt up here guarding whatever was buried under ten feet of mud and slurry. It was at moments like this I hated the fact we were a small department, and I had no one spare.

One of the engineers said, “We’ll cordon the areas off.”

Micah nodded. “I’ll assist.”

I turned to face Connor. Despite me arresting him, we’d managed to work together, and for a brief moment, the anger and frustration faded, replaced by something else I couldn’t name. Was it maybe a grudging respect?

“Thanks for the assist,” I said.

“I’m happy to help,” Connor shrugged, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Then he held out his hands. “Am I still arrested?”

I could sense Wyatt watching me. “Warned,” I said, tiredly. “Last chance, Connor.”

He nodded, then crossed his arms over his chest. “Understood.”

Chapter Thirteen

CONNOR

I waited until Neil and Wyatt had left and then sidled up towards Dr. Reese and Micah, who were talking in low voices. I didn’t like how pale Micah looked or how Dr. Reese gesticulated at the hole in the ground.

“Connor,” Micah shot me a glance, relieved. “Dr. Reese was summarizing,” he said. I know he was thinking about the gun, but also the freaking hole on his land.

Dr. Reese gestured at the cave-in. “The falling walls have exposed the bedrock, which is now stable. However, the water flow has created channels beneath the soil, weakening it. We’ll need to reinforce the area to prevent further erosion. This means installing retaining walls and proper drainage systems to divert water from the weakened spots.”

Micah swallowed hard, clearly overwhelmed by the implications, although I knew that Quinn would dive in with his bottomless checkbook to get any work done. “We’ll figure it out,” he said, more to himself than Dr. Reese.

Dr. Reese gave a sympathetic nod. “I’ll have a full report ready ASAP. In the meantime, keep everyone away from this area.”

After that, the engineer and his team packed their gear and left, leaving Micah and me standing in the rain.

Micah stared at me; his shoulders tight. “And?”

I clapped a hand on his shoulder, trying to offer some reassurance. “No gun.”

He relaxed, but there was still a tension in his gaze. “I need to tell… I need to…”

“Do nothing. Not yet, okay?”

“I’m telling Daniel everything.”

“He’s your husband, I get that.”

“And Neil knows,” he blurted.

I was startled. “Knows about the gun?”

“No, shit, I didn’t tell him that.” His eyes widened as voices reached us—Levi and Quinn walking our way—and his tone softened. “I tried to turn myself in, tried to get him to arrest me so that Rachel wouldn’t…” He didn’t seem to want to finish that sentence, but I filled in the blanks. Micah had offered himself up as Prince’s killer to stop the authorities from turning their attention to her.

“And?”

“He said the case was closed, and I needed to walk away, but I didn’t tell him I’d tossed the freaking gun down the well.”

Good for Neil. But also, shit.

“Daniel knows what I did, but I haven’t told him, Levi, or Rachel what I did with the gun, and if it’s found … I need to be honest and get ahead of this with them because I never even thought about it after I got rid of it.”

I gripped his arm. “It will be okay.”

By this time, Micah and Quinn had joined us, and Quinn hugged Micah, probably thinking he was anxious about the subsidence. I backed away and jogged down the hill as best I could in the gentle rain on the slippery surface. I bypassed Rachel’s offer of a shower and clean-up. With a wave, I clambered into my car and headed into town.

Neil’s house on the outskirts of Whisper Ridge was a classic mid-century weatherboard home with a small, tidy porch wrapping around the front. The land around it was open, giving a sense of seclusion with the nearest neighbor a few hundred feet away. I knew the next house was empty, and I had thought about putting down roots and buying the place. His sheriff’s car was parked outside, a familiar sight that brought a strange sense of comfort.

I didn’t know what made me drive there, but I pulled in and parked next to his car. I went around back but didn’t let myself in even though the security would be easy to circumnavigate.

I’m not a stalker.

Much.

I could hear the shower running through a narrow window, and I stood right under the surveillance camera and waved.

The back door flew open, and I was face-to-face with a half-naked Neil, towel wrapped around his waist, dripping with water, and holding a gun on me.

“What the fuck are you doing here? I could have shot you!” he demanded.

I pointed to the intruder alarm in the bathroom. “You knew someone was here. I was waving,” I said as I raised my hands.

“I was in the shower.” Unspoken was that an alarm had sounded, and he’d reacted on instinct—hence the towel and the gun.

“What are you doing here?” His voice was edged with frustration.

I shrugged, trying to play it cool despite the adrenaline pumping through my veins. “I don’t know. I just … needed to see you.”

Neil’s eyes narrowed the tension between us thick enough to cut with a knife. “I’m having a shower.”

“I could wash your back,” I offered and held out my hands. I was just as muddy as he’d been.

“Fuck off.”

Okay, so humor wasn’t working—maybe honesty would. “I couldn’t stay away.”

The porch was filled with the sound of the shower still running, the steam curling out of the window. Neil sighed, running a hand through his wet hair. “You can’t just hang on my back porch, Connor.”

“I need to talk.”

Neil looked at me for a long moment, the anger in his eyes fading into something else. Exasperation maybe. “Fine. Stay here, let me get dressed. We’ll talk.”

“What if you don’t get dressed?” I asked, pulling off my coat. The chill of the fall air gave me goosebumps as I yanked my T-shirt over my head.

“What are you doing!”

“I don’t want to track mud in your house.”

“You’re not coming inside.”

“I need a shower; you have a shower. Simple.”

He blinked at me as if I wasn’t making sense. “I’m using my shower.”

I moved closer; he stepped back. “Is it a big shower?” I asked, toeing off my boots and putting my hand to my belt.

“What are you doing?” he snarled and shoved my chest.

I nearly tumbled off the porch but caught myself on the railing. “We need to talk. I’m muddy. I need a shower.”

“Jesus, asshole!”

“My name is Connor,” I gripped his wrist. “Call me Connor.”

“I’ll call you arrested,” he snapped, and he took a final step into his house, and I went in with him, unbuckling my belt. “You need to leave.”

I stopped a breath away. “We have all this adrenaline pumping through our veins, all this energy. Do you want me to leave? One word, and I’ll go, and that’s it.”

It would be so damn hard to leave him, particularly now I had a soapy, wet, sexy man within touch. Worse, the soapy, sexy man was Neil, and yeah, I really had a thing for Neil.

“Connor, wait,” he said, but he wasn’t pushing me away.

“Tell me to leave, Neil. Tell me.”

He closed his eyes as if not seeing me there would make this any easier as I held his wrist and rested my other hand on his hip.

“You’re fucking everything up,” he said, brokenly, and then he shook off my hold and trailed his touch from my chest to my chin, tilting it and then cradling my face. “This is fucked up.”

“Uh-huh.” I didn’t want to say anything else because this moment was warmth and need, and I didn’t want it to shatter like crystal.

He pushed my pants down, my underwear went with them, and then I was as naked as he was, only he had a towel. I tugged at the towel until we were on even footing.

“The things I want to do to you,” he said, water beading on his skin.

Kiss me.

Neil cradled my face, his touch gentle. His thumb brushed my cheek, and then he leaned in, pressing the softest kiss to my lips. It was tentative, but it sent shivers down my spine.

I responded, my hands finding his hips as the kiss deepened. Neil’s hesitation melted away, replaced by a growing urgency. He pulled me closer, our bodies pressing together as the heat ignited. Without breaking the kiss, he guided me into the large shower, the water cascading over us, warm and enveloping.

The kiss consumed us. The world outside the shower faded away, leaving us in a cocoon of steam and desire. Every touch and movement was charged, and nothing else mattered.

When he went to his knees, scrambling awkwardly, I wanted to tell him to stand up, that we’d take this to the bedroom where it was easier, but when he swallowed me, I lost the ability to string words together.

I moved the shower head, so the water was aimed at his back, not drowning him as he grasped my cock and sucked and licked, and fuck … this was only going to last seconds if I kept looking at him with his mouth stuffed full of my cock.

I turned off the shower and tried to ease away, but he sat back on his haunches, confused. I didn’t want to give him time to think about this, to stop what he was doing.

“Bed! Please!” I forced out, and his confusion went straight back to lust.

We grabbed towels, but both of us were wet when we landed in the middle of his bed, scrabbling for touch, fighting for dominance, which was a battle I was happy to let him win.

For now.

He forced my hands over my head, held them there, kissing me wet and dirty, and slotted himself between my legs, pushing with his knee so I was wide open to him. When he rested for a second, our cocks hard against each other, he sighed before kissing me again.

He ground down on me, sucking and biting a path from my lips to my nipple, and then somehow, he slowed everything, almost as if he wanted this to last, and I took advantage, using my leg to topple him off me so then it was my turn to be in charge. He pulled me close, but it was less kissing and more exchanging breaths, as he stiffened beneath me and was coming hot and wet between us. I wasn’t long after—his blissful expression was enough to push me over the edge, and then I swiped between us to clean us up, and he shuddered when my fingers brushed his cock.

“You can go now,” he ordered.

“We need to talk.”

He stared at me. “You need to go.”

I chuckled and twisted myself around him. “Make me.”

He didn’t.

And we slept.

Chapter Fourteen

NEIL

When I woke with a head full of regrets, he was gone, disappearing at god knew what time, his side of the bed cold. What the hell had I done? Hooking up with Connor was a monumental mistake, however long it had been brewing, and it couldn’t happen again.

“Idiot,” I berated myself as I stumbled into the kitchen and smelled coffee. My asshole one-night stand had made coffee for me, and fuck … there was a note.

I picked it up.

7/10 - would recommend

C

“Asshole,” I muttered, although I smoothed the note out and left it to one side. “Fucking seven!”

With a mug of coffee done, which was frustratingly good given he’d made it, my phone buzzed, pulling me from my thoughts. It was a message from Wyatt: Stayed in Collier Springs after placing the evidence with the lab. What do you want me to do next?

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. Wyatt was green but eager, and I needed to ensure he followed all procedures. I shot back a quick reply: Stay put. I’ll meet you at the lab.

The bones, the luggage, and the endless questions were all more than enough to occupy my mind, and I didn’t have the space to think about Connor. There was no room for distractions, especially not one as frustratingly attractive and complicated as Connor.

What was I thinking when I got involved with him? I should have known better. It was a moment of weakness, a lapse in judgment I couldn’t afford to repeat. The memory of his touch, the heat of his kisses—all needed to be locked away, buried under the responsibilities and duties I owed to this town and this case.

I showered—and fuck if I could forget what had happened in there last night—dressed, then grabbed my keys and headed out, locking the door behind me. There was work to be done and no time for regrets. As I drove to meet Wyatt, I forced my mind back to the case details, determined to stay focused on what mattered.

Whatever was between Connor and me would have to wait. If it happened again—and I wouldn’t let it because it was too much—I would deal with it then. For now, it was the luggage, the bones, and this awesome coffee.

Freaking Connor.

I arrived at the Collier Springs ME’s office, a satellite of the larger Jackson labs. The building was small but well-equipped, and it was our closest lab for processing, saving us from heading out to Jackson for routine work. Dr. Xavier Reynolds, the medical examiner, was already waiting. He was a severe man, his intense blue eyes framed by furrowed brows, giving him an air of serious thought. His wife, Tally, was next to him, also a scientist with some specific connection to forensic work, although I don’t know what. She was one of those people with endless enthusiasm, and she never failed to make me smile with her quirky personality.

“Thanks for coming from Jackson on such short notice,” I said.

“The case is too interesting not to get involved, Sheriff,” Tally replied with a bright smile, her wild, curly red hair bouncing as she spoke. Her round, tortoiseshell glasses perched on her nose added to her eccentric charm. “As a forensic conservator, I’ll be working on the contents of the luggage. Xavier gets the boring bones bit.”

“Bones are not boring,” Xavier defended, but she kissed the tip of his nose, and he grinned at her teasing.

“So, what can you tell me?” I asked, eager to hear from either of them.

Xavier’s grin slipped, and his expression grew serious. “Some of the bones look human, others not, bovine or equine maybe, we won’t know until we analyze them, but it’s a jumble right now, and we don’t know which matches up with which. I’ve called in a favor with a forensic anthropologist to assist with the identification, and we’ll attempt to get a DNA panel.” He gestured to Tally.

“Now, as to the luggage…” Tally’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “We’ll need to take it to Casper for a thorough examination. We might be lucky and find some ID we can retrieve.”

I nodded, absorbing the information. “Do you know how long ago the luggage was put down there?”

Xavier shook his head. “Not yet. The condition of the bones and the luggage contents will give us some clues, but who knows whether the two are connected.”

“No one could say for sure at this point,” Tally added. “It’s possible, but we’ll need more evidence to make that determination.”

I hated the weight of the uncertainty in my chest. “All right, can you update me as soon as you know more? This case is … well, it’s something.”

They both nodded, and I could see the determination in their eyes. This wasn’t only another case for them; it was a puzzle they were eager to solve. Those who work with dead bodies together stay together.

I was close to snorting out loud at my internal joke.

As Wyatt and I left the office, my mind spun with possibilities. The jumble of bones, the mysterious luggage, and the secrets they might hold were all too much to ignore. But one thing was clear: it would be ages before we knew anything.

Everything was quiet for a week. Almost too quiet. There were no updates from the lab, the town was calm, and Connor was staying away from me for some reason. I didn’t know whether to feel happy that he wasn’t in my space or pissed that we’d fucked and then he’d cut me off.

Most of the time, I settled on pissed. He’d spent so long hassling me, and then he’d got what he wanted and walked away, leaving that stupid note rating me seven out of ten. Asshole. When I woke up this morning, ready to go in for five a.m., I was determined that today I’d confront him and ask him what the fuck he’d thought he was doing. I was showered, dressed, had stopped off for coffee, and was sitting at my desk, focused on my day, when my phone rang, and my focus shattered. It was Mom, her voice trembling.

“Neil, the car is missing, and your dad has gone.”

I was hit with a sudden wave of anxiety. “What? When?”

“I don’t know, but he’s gone.”

Okay. Think. “Did he take his phone?”

“No, it’s here. He said he wanted to visit Clive, but then he went to bed, and I locked all the doors. I can’t do this on my own.”

I took a deep breath, trying to steady my thoughts. No phone meant no tracking him through maps, which meant I had to think like a sheriff and not rely on technology. “Mom, I’ll find Dad. Don’t worry.”

I hung up and grabbed my jacket, immediately heading out the door, my heart pounding. The early morning mist hung low, giving an eerie feel to the empty streets as I scanned for any sign of Dad or the car. He couldn’t go east—that road was still closed, and west was to the Lennox Ranch, so that left south out of town, and with the pedal to the floor, I headed that way.

I saw him a few miles out, standing by the side of the road, lost and confused. The car had been abandoned at an angle, idling nearby, its door wide open. Dad was in his pajamas, his gray hair disheveled, and his gaze darting as if searching for something he couldn’t quite remember.

I pulled over and got out. “Dad?”

He turned to me, unfocused, struggling to recognize me, and then he half-smiled before frowning. “Neil? I … I was going to see Clive. But I … I don’t know where I am.”

My heart sank. “Clive’s gone, Dad. He passed away, remember?”

He blinked, confusion giving way to a painful clarity. How soul-destroying must it be to relive understanding his best friend was gone, over and over? “Right … I forgot.”

I guided him gently into the sheriff’s SUV, buckled his seatbelt, then returned to his car and killed the engine before locking it up. I’d have to come back later with Wyatt to fetch it.

“Let’s get you home.”

The ride back was quiet, only broken by Dad’s occasional mutterings as he tried to piece together his fractured thoughts. I glanced at him every so often, my chest tightening with worry.

When we arrived, Bessie and Mom were waiting at the door. Their faces were etched with concern, and Mom’s eyes were red from crying.

I helped Dad out of the car and into the house. “Come on, Dad. Let’s get you inside.”

We all sat down in the living room, the atmosphere tense, Dad quiet, staring at his hands, lost in his own world. It broke my heart to see him like this—a man who had always been so strong and capable now reduced to this fragile state. All because of one wild shot that had buried shrapnel in his brain. He closed his eyes and leaned back on the sofa, and all too soon, he was sleeping without a care in the world.

“We need to talk about this,” I said, breaking the silence but keeping everything unspecific and not mentioning Dad’s name.

Mom nodded, tears welling up again. “He’s getting worse, Neil. The specialist said it might progress quickly, but I didn’t think it would be this fast. I don’t know what to do.”

Bessie added, “We need to keep a closer eye on him. Maybe we should look into getting some permanent in-home care.”

“Maybe it’s time for in-patient care somewhere like the specialist suggested?” I said with caution.

Mum slumped in her chair—the idea of losing him was heartbreaking. But being afraid for him all the time was hard. “I didn’t hear him leave.”

I reached out and took her hand, squeezing it. “I know.”

Mom’s voice cracked as she spoke. “I found his phone on the bedside table. He must have left while I was asleep. I set the alarms, Neil. How did he get out?”

“Maybe he remembered the code,” I offered. It would be a first—codes and passwords were one of the first things he would forget, but sometimes he had a flash of memory that defied the bullet pressing on his brain.

Bessie gripped her other hand. “We should call Dr. Bennington and see if there are any adjustments we can make to his treatment. Maybe there’s something more we can do.”

Dad woke with a start, blinking at us, and then his eyes widened as if he realized we were all there.

“Maybe talking to the doctor is best,” I murmured.

“Who needs a doctor?” Dad asked, confused and worried for whichever one of us he thought needed medical help.

“You do, Dad,” Bessie said, her voice breaking.

He huffed. “I don’t need a doctor. I’m tired, that’s all.”

Bessie sat beside him; her eyes soft with concern. “Dad, we love you and want to ensure you’re okay. Will you let us do that?”

He nodded, a glimmer of his old self showing through. “All right, if it’ll make you all feel better.”

I felt a wave of relief. “It will, Dad. It really will.” Dad might be losing himself, but we wouldn’t lose him. Not without a fight.

Chapter Fifteen

CONNOR

I ran the town perimeter daily, a ritual that had become second nature. Sure, it was partly about keeping fit, but it was more than that. I couldn’t shake off the need to protect, to keep an eye on things. Not just for Quinn—though he was still my boss and was always at the forefront of my mind—but for the town itself. This place was slowly becoming home, and I felt a responsibility to look out for it.

The misty rain clung to my skin as I ran, the damp air heavy with the scent of wet earth and fallen leaves. The trees, their leaves a riot of autumn colors, seemed to watch over me as I moved along the familiar path.

Each morning, I took note of the small details: a broken fence post that needed fixing, flowers at the newest burial in the graveyard, a stray dog that seemed to have made a new home near an abandoned barn, and the sheriff’s SUV sometimes parked at odd angles near various houses. Little things, but important—signs of life and movement, and I made it my business to stay aware.

Today, as I reached my usual vantage point overlooking Whisper Ridge, I paused to catch my breath. The view never got old, and today, the streets were shrouded in the early morning mist. From here, I could see everything—the quiet streets, the fields stretching out to the mountain, and the occasional figure moving about, starting their day.

I spotted the sheriff’s SUV heading south at speed, and I wondered what criminal was causing mischief enough to get Neil’s normally sensible driving style to switch. I watched it until it was out of view, my thoughts drifting to the man himself. He was a complex, intriguing man who somehow, with me, had a quick temper and sharp tongue that drove me fucking mad. Yes, there was mutual respect between us, an unspoken understanding, but even after the hottest sex of my entire freaking life, he was a closed book, revealing only enough to keep me guessing. It wasn’t as if we’d hooked up again in the week since the landslip, but that was just as much on me.

He had a way of knowing things without saying much. His eyes always seemed to be two steps ahead of his words. Neil was a puzzle to me. He was intriguing, definitely. It made him interesting, and that scared me.

The SUV vanished around a bend, and I turned back toward my apartment, my mind still churning with thoughts of the gun that might or might not have been buried under the landslip when the walls collapsed. It could stay there forever if the bones and the cases returned as nothing, but if there was a dig? If someone wanted to search the area in more detail?

I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.

The run back was a blur, my body moving on autopilot while my brain sifted through the fragments of information I’d collected. The gun that had killed the cult leader, Callum Prince. The shooter, Rachel Lennox, and then her brother Micah, the man who was willing to take the fall to protect his family.

I’ll fix this. Whatever happens.

Once home, I peeled off my damp clothes and headed for the shower. The hot water was a welcome relief, washing away the chill of the morning and the hint of tension that had settled in my muscles despite the run. Afterward, with a towel wrapped around my waist, I went to the spare room.

This space was where I kept all my research on the cult that had taken my cousin, everything I had on the Lennox Ranch and family, and most importantly, the security I had around Quinn. I sat down at the desk and powered up my laptop. The encrypted files glared back at me. I entered the passcode and watched the file open, revealing a labyrinth of documents, photos, and notes.

Each piece of information was a thread, and I thought everything was quiet now. The cult was no more. Rachel was safe, married to Scott, and back home with her brother. Quinn was married to his Levi, and happy since falling in love and having the pressure released from him when he stepped away from the city and gave away most of his money.

This gun thing, though? That put a kink in matters. The cult, the gun, and Micah/Rachel were my focus right now, and I had feelers out for what kind of autopsies had been done on any of the bodies found after the fire at the compound. I knew most of the evidence had been dealt with superficially—one of the young men at the compound had been a senator’s son, and a ton of things had been buried. Still … what was on file? What could I find out? I sifted through new data, my fingers flying over the keyboard as I cross-referenced details and updated timelines.

As I delved deeper, I couldn’t shake the feeling this might raise red flags. Maybe I should go directly to the senator and tell him what had happened—it was always good to have a politician in my pocket—but then that would expose me and make someone aware of my every move, which could shine a spotlight on Whisper Ridge. It was a paranoid thought but not unfounded, given the nature of the cult and the way things had been covered up. I had to be more careful now. The missing gun was a reminder the stakes were high, and one wrong move could open a can of worms that needed to stay shut.

An hour passed in a blur, but I still didn’t have autopsy information, and that meant questions remained unanswered.

I leaned back in my chair and glanced at the clock. I needed coffee and breakfast, and then maybe I’d visit my friendly neighborhood sheriff and mess with him a little. Poor Neil wouldn’t know what hit him, particularly when I held him against a wall and kissed him into tomorrow.

I’d let him stay away far too long. Seven days too long.

I would track him down as soon as he returned to town from wherever he’d been so early.

But first, as my belly reminded me, I needed breakfast. Plus, coffee for the win, and I headed to my usual corner booth at the diner.

“Morning,” Noah said with a wave, already turning to get me coffee. “The usual?”

“Please.”

He passed me a mug. “Go sit.”

Nursing my coffee, I watched as the drizzle became more. It wasn’t quite as bad as the storm we’d had, but it was heavy and so damn wet for late September, turning Whisper Ridge into a small sea of mud and puddles.

Noah placed a plate of bagels with everything in front of me, and I fell on it like a lion on a fresh kill. The man was a genius with bacon and eggs.

“Top up?” he asked, and I nodded, chewing on a mouthful of bacon and watching the black stuff fill my empty mug. “What the hell?” Noah asked with exasperation, and I glanced up, but he wasn’t talking to me. He was commenting on the two boys loitering outside, huddled together under the awning, and staring in at us. He gestured for them to come in, but they shook their heads.

Even through the blur of raindrops, I recognized them: Laurie and Archie, their body language all too familiar. Heads bent together, they were talking, and they glanced at the diner every so often. I took another sip of my coffee, my eyes never leaving them. They were up to something, and it wasn’t just a casual chat in the rain.

Whatever they were planning, Archie was the ringleader, no doubt about it. Always the first to come up with some harebrained scheme, with Laurie tagging along, hesitant but loyal. They had an uncanny knack for finding trouble, and this morning seemed no exception.

I took another sip of my coffee, my eyes never leaving them. The boys’ coats were shiny wet, and they shivered in the chilly wind.

On their third glance towards the diner, Noah decided enough was enough, demanding they come inside. Laurie and Archie’s faces lit up with relief, and they bolted for the door, tumbling in like enthusiastic puppies. They brought the storm with them, rainwater dripping from their clothes and a gust of wind following them in, causing the chimes to jangle.

“Hey, boys,” Noah greeted. “Who wants to tell me what’s going on?”

They looked at each other, then at Noah, then back at me, their faces flushed from the cold and the excitement of their dash inside. Laurie spoke first, his voice a mix of guilt and determination. “We were just … talking.”

“Talking, huh?” Noah raised an eyebrow, glancing at Archie, who nodded. “It looks more like you’re planning a heist during a rainstorm.”

I expected them to laugh, but Archie was nervous, and Laurie was talking, his chin tilted just like his uncle Quinn’s. “We need to talk to Mr. Mason,” he exclaimed. They wanted to talk to me? My spidey senses were on overload—was this something to do with Quinn? I motioned for them to sit down.

“Go on, then,” Noah encouraged. “You want some hot chocolate?”

They exchanged glances. “We don’t got the money for that,” Laurie announced.

“My treat.” I gestured to Noah, who raised a hand in acknowledgment. He’d know better than me what two boys would want to drink or eat on a rainy day. They scrambled into the booth opposite, Laurie sitting down, Archie on one knee, rooting in his bright red raincoat pocket.

“This is for you,” Archie announced as he dumped a pile of bills and coins on the table between us. Laurie reached over and helped to shuffle the coins around in tidy piles. At first glance, there looked to be about twenty dollars or so, but why it was for me wasn’t obvious.

The boys were quiet, and I played the long game, waiting for one of them to spill. Our mutual silence was interrupted by the arrival of mugs of cocoa and a plate with two cookies.

The boys waited until Noah left, and we went back to silence. As a former SEAL sharpshooter turned PI, I could outlast anyone in the staring-quietly stakes, but the boys were wriggling, and then Laurie elbowed Archie in the side, and Archie squirmed before adding a watch to the pile, placing it with care as if it were important to him. It wasn’t flashy, a Timex with a worn leather band and a scratched face, and the second hand was stopped, so I guess it didn’t work.

When I stared at it, Archie nudged it closer. “Look,” he demanded.

I picked it up and checked the back. Some initials were engraved there, but I couldn’t make them out.

“Whose watch is this?” I asked, wondering if the boys had helped themselves to it at the ranch.

“My dad’s,” Archie murmured. “My real dad. It’s mine, I didn’t steal it.” He was red in the face now, an unfortunate by-product of his pale skin, and I thought maybe he was about to cry.

“I know you didn’t,” I said, and he rubbed his eyes. “It’s okay,” I added.

He glanced at me, unsure. “Is that enough?” he asked, keeping his hand close to the pile of coins and notes as if he couldn’t bear to let the watch go.

“Enough for what?”

The boys exchanged a furious conversation that I could barely make out because it was so fast and full of unfinished sentences.

“You said⁠—”

“Just tell him⁠—”

“What if he⁠—”

“We can’t do that⁠—”

“Boys!” I interrupted after a minute of them bickering again. They snapped their attention to me. “Start from the beginning.”

It was Archie’s turn to elbow Laurie—they were doing that a lot, as if they had a script they’d rehearsed.

“Momma said you were like Magnum,” Laurie blurted. “The new one, not the old one with the ‘stache who momma said isn’t as sexy.” Laurie sank into his chair—clearly, his first part of the speech was over. There was a new Magnum? I’d watched reruns of Tom Selleck with his mustache as a kid, but who would spoil an outstanding PI drama by remaking it? And what was the connection between Magnum and me? Oh… wait…

“You mean I used to be a private investigator.” My being a registered PI ceased after I learned my sister had never made it out of the Brothers of Chiron compound. I’d only gone into the PI business to find her and give myself something to do after retiring from the Navy and no longer being a SEAL. It was never my end-plan in life, hell I still don’t know what my end-plan was after the search for my sister had taken me to multimillionaire Quinn, who’d lost his brother to the same cult.

“Yeah. A PI.” Laurie tilted his chin again.

I wanted to reach over and ruffle his hair, but I didn’t because the boys were serious, and I needed to respect whatever they were trying to do.

“Is that enough?” Archie said with an anxious tone.

“Enough for what?”

“Can you find my sister?” he blurted, and his eyes were filled with so much hope that the kids could have left me three bottle caps and a trading card for a lower league baseball player, and I would have said yes to whatever they wanted.

Still, I took a moment to think things through. Archie had a sister? I had assumed it was just him and his mom, and I knew he was living with Micah and Daniel now, with his mom having moved into long-term care six months before. I’d done security checks on his birth dad and his mom, but widening it out to a non-blood-related sister, the daughter of his mom’s old ex, hadn’t been dug deep in the dossier I had on people at the ranch. “Your sister?”

“Grace,” Archie half-whispered and swallowed, then passed over a piece of lined paper with a carefully written list of facts.

Grace Miller. Dad Ezekiel Miller. Age Six. Birthday 3 September. Hair, blonde, eyes, blue. Plays with dolls and clay and reads books with no words.

Why didn’t I know Archie had a sister? Where was she? Was this an amber alert situation?

“Zeke isn’t my dad,” Archie said. “He was my mom’s boyfriend, but he left when she was drinking badly and took Grace.”

“So, Zeke is Grace’s dad and not your dad?”

“Right.”

“But your mom is also Grace’s mom?”

“No. Grace and me? We’re not even related, but … she was important. She was like my sister, and I looked after her, and I wanna know she’s okay.”

I knew Archie’s biological father was long dead. I knew enough about LouAnne, Archie’s mom, to know she’d signed legal documents to say that Micah and Daniel were his legal guardians, but nowhere did I recall a potential stepdad. Way to drop the ball. Micah and Daniel had to know. The stepdad wouldn’t have a legal hold over Archie. Right?

“You gonna do it?” Laurie demanded, and I reached over and took two five-dollar bills from the pile, pocketing one and sliding all the coins and the watch back.

“This is enough, and yes,” I said because Laurie and Archie asked, and I loved the kids and the Lennox family. If a final adoption was approved and someone out there could throw a wrench in the works, I’d fix it.

“What about the rest of the money and the watch? We know you ain’t cheap.”

“Aren’t,” I corrected a suspicious Laurie. “This is called a retainer. That means when I find her, you owe me more money.”

The boys exchanged worried glances.

“How much more?” Archie asked.

“I’d want at least another five dollars in coins.”

Archie’s eyes widened, and then he smiled. “We got that,” he announced.

I held out a hand, and Archie shook it, followed by Laurie.

The door to the diner flew open, and a frowning man entered—Daniel.

“I told you to wait by the car,” he began.

“My bad,” I interjected before the kids got into trouble. “Noah and I called them in for a drink and cookie.

“Outside,” Daniel said fondly. As soon as they were back out of the cafe, I stopped Daniel following them with a hand on his arm. “We need to talk.”

He stiffened and then stared out where the kids were crouched by a puddle on the sidewalk. “What’s wrong?”

“Archie wants me to find a little girl called Grace. His mother’s boyfriend’s daughter,” I waited for his reaction, and it was telling that Daniel relaxed.

“Yeah, he asked us, and we’ve tried to track down Ezekiel. He’s a bull rider, and we always seem to get to where he is just after he’s left. He’s not returning our calls. Archie used to look after Grace when her dad was away and when LouAnne was … ill. Poor Archie wants to know Grace is happy.”

“Are you okay with me doing some research?”

“It would help, thank you.”

I pressed the ten dollars the kids gave me into Daniel’s hand. “This is what they paid me. Can you keep hold of it for them?”

“We can pay you.”

I shook my head. “I don’t need money from family.”

We shook hands and I watched as Daniel and the kids left until they turned a corner.

“You’re a teddy bear,” Noah announced from my side.

I should defend myself, tell Noah I was a hard man, a dude on a mission, a trained killer with no soft parts at all.

But where those kids were concerned? Or Quinn? Or this town? Or Neil? I’d be lying.

“Whatever.”

All Noah did was chuckle. Asshole.

Chapter Sixteen

NEIL

I sat in my SUV, parked up behind the office, taking a moment to get my head straight. The morning so far weighed on me, and I needed to clear my mind before diving back into work. As I took a deep breath, I realized my nephew, Jason, was sitting on the wall outside the office, glued to his phone. Shit. Today was the day Jason was supposed to start his work experience, and I’d forgotten.

I frowned when I saw him wearing scruffy jeans and a faded torn puffer jacket, heavy boots and a purple beanie on his head. I’d assumed my sister would have made sure Jason dressed up, but then again, she’d been at Mom and Dad’s place with me, so Jason would have done all of that on his own.

I took another deep breath, trying to muster the energy to deal with this. I sauntered over to Jason, who didn’t even glance up from his phone. I stood there, waiting, until he finally noticed my presence

“Hi, Uncle Neil,” he said and pocketed his cell.

“You’re starting work today, so sheriff or sir is fine.”

He blinked at me. “Uhm, okay Unc—Sir.”

“What are you wearing?” I asked.

He glanced down and tugged at his coat. “Uhm … clothes?”

“Jason,” I said. “Go home, dress nice, and return in twenty with three black coffees and doughnuts from the coffee shop. Tell Nancy to put it on the sheriff’s bill.”

He was shocked, his mouth opening and closing as he processed my demand. “What? Why do I have to change? These are my favorite jeans,” he protested, staring down at his pants.

Patience. “Because you’re here to work, not to hang out. Go home and put on something presentable. We have a coat you can borrow, but I want you to wear smart pants, a shirt, and your sturdy boots with steel toe caps. I know for certain you’re wearing a band T under that coat. Am I wrong?” I replied, keeping my tone even.

“No, you’re not, but Unc—Sheriff, this is just a few days, nothing to get dressed up for,” Jason whined, clearly in full-on teenage brat mode. Sometimes, he sounded thirteen and not seventeen and thinking about colleges.

“You represent this office when you’re here. Now go change,” I insisted, not budging.

He groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Fine, but this is stupid.”

“Jason,” I said, my voice softening just a bit. “Go home, change, and bring back the coffee and doughnuts. Nancy will put it on the sheriff’s bill.”

He sighed and then stood. “All right, all right. I’ll be back in twenty.”

“And leave your phone at home,” I added as he started to walk away.

He shot me a skeptical look. “Seriously?”

“Seriously. You’re here to work, not to scroll through social media. Trust me, you’ll survive without it for a few hours.”

Jason shook his head but didn’t argue further. As I watched him go, I couldn’t help but feel a mix of frustration and responsibility. This was going to be an interesting day.

“I kinda like that hardass thing you got going on, sir,” Connor said from behind me.

I whirled to see him stepping out of the alley. My stomach swooped. “What are you doing here?” I demanded, trying to keep my voice steady.

Connor sauntered over, a sly grin on his face. “I’ve got a job and wanted to ask you some questions.”

“A job for who? Quinn?” I asked, my irritation growing. “I wish you’d stop meddling in my town.”

“My town, too,” Connor replied, his grin widening into a challenging smirk.

We stood there in a silent standoff, tension crackling between us. I couldn’t help but notice how sexy he was in his black jeans and jacket. He needed to shave, but he was rugged and dangerously appealing instead of looking disreputable. The memory of his stubble against my skin made me burn, and my erection was uncomfortable in my uniform pants.

Connor took a step closer, his presence overwhelming. I felt trapped between him and the side door into the office. My pulse quickened, and anger and desire mixed into a potent cocktail that made it hard to think straight.

I should push him away.

I need to pull him close.

“Got a PI gig, tracking down a sibling. What do you know about Ezekiel Miller?” he asked, his tone more serious now.

Miller? The bull rider who’d passed through town and then stayed a while. He’d been with LouAnne Carter for a year and, if I remembered correctly, had a cute as-a-button daughter called Hope, Charity, or something like that. LouAnne lived way out of town with her son Archie, the same Archie who was now living up at the Lennox Ranch because LouAnne was ill and in rehab. Who would hire Connor to find him, and why? Was this something to do with LouAnne and the adoption of Archie? Why didn’t I know?

Why did Connor know something that I didn’t?

“Who hired you?”

“Confidential.” He rested a hand on the jamb behind me, and I tried to ignore his closeness and the way his voice sent shivers down my spine. The heat between us was unbearable. I could feel my anger rising at his intrusion and how my body responded to him.

“The sheriff’s office cannot assist you now,” I said.

He leaned in, his lips dangerously close to mine. The mixture of anger and desire was too much, and I shoved him away hard enough to put some space between us.

“Back off, Connor,” I growled, my voice rough with frustration.

He stumbled back, surprise flashing across his face before he composed himself. “Yes, sir,” he deadpanned.

I watched him walk away, the frustration and desire still churning inside me. Connor Mason was trouble, no doubt about it. But damn if he didn’t make life interesting. At the last minute, he stopped and faced me.

“Later,” he said.

I wasn’t sure if I wanted that to be a threat or a promise.

I turned my back on Connor, the tension still crackling between us. Without another word, I headed inside, trying to shake off the frustration and confusion that seemed to cling to me whenever he was around. Solomon watched me with a concerned expression as I took off my coat.

“Neil,” he said, stepping forward. “Lewis and Wyatt got called out to the Carter farm, and there are issues with wild animals.”

“Again?” Everyone knew it was the Carter kids causing trouble, not animals, but their children could do no wrong as far as the Carters were concerned. Solomon shrugged in a “yeah, right” kind of way.

“Could I ask you a favor?” he asked.

I nodded, hanging up my coat. “Sure. What do you need?”

“It’s Abraham,” he began, worry etched into his face. “I haven’t heard from him since last night, and I know he’s a grown man, but could you go do another welfare check on him at some point? No rush?”

I agreed, feeling a pang of concern. “Of course. He was okay last time I visited, quiet but calm.”

“Yeah, I know. Too quiet.”

“He’s on my list, so I’ll head there soon. Jason is with us today.”

“He’s already been in and filled in all the forms,” Solomon advised, tapping the folder on his desk.

“He has?” I thought he’d been sitting outside on his phone waiting for me.

“Yep, eager as all get out, bouncing all over the place until I got him to sit outside and wait for you.”

“When he’s back, can you settle him with filing in the back room, have him with you at the front desk, and dispatch him when he’s done?”

“Sure thing. I wanted—” The main phone rang, and he connected a call and interrupted whatever he was going to say. “Sheriff’s office… Sure... No worries, hold, please.” He handed over the receiver. “Dr. Reynolds, ME’s office.”

“Sheriff, hello,” Xavier said, clearing his throat. “So, do you want the good news or bad news?”

Why do people say that? A flicker of irritation sparked in my head, but only because I was already irritable after Dad, plus freaking Connor messing with me. Still, that good or bad news question always felt like an unnecessary intro, as if trying to cushion the blow.

“Hey, Xavier,” I said, trying to keep my impatience out of my voice. “Start with the bad.”

“We can’t get much from the bones just yet,” he said. “It will be a few weeks before we have any substantial information. The condition of the bones is … well, it’s complicated.”

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “What could the bones be? Any initial thoughts?”

“Given the condition and the context, they could be remains that have been there for decades. Some are animals’, as I suspected. Others are human, potentially female at first glance. We’re considering the possibility of a historic burial site. It’s too early, but we’ll update you as we know more.”

Ice trickled down my spine—I’d been hoping they were all animal bones, end of story.

“Okay, and the good news?”

“I’ll pass you to Tally.”

“Sheriff? It’s Tally Finch.”

“Dr. Finch, hello. What do you have for me?” I hoped for progress with the puzzle.

“The luggage is challenging to work with,” she explained. “We’ve got a family Bible here, but the paper is so thin that it’s difficult to make sense of it without damaging it further.”

I pictured her handling the delicate items, her fingers moving with precision. “What else did you find?”

“Hang on…” There was rustling, and then she cleared her throat. “Besides clothes, we also have a stick deodorant, a compact, a small piece of costume jewelry, a pair of heeled shoes, a silver photo frame, glass smashed, without photos.” She paused. “Or at least the inside photo is long since decayed.”

“Can you narrow anything down for me?”

“If you held a gun to my head, when you take in the fact that the garments are dresses, skirts, and so on, I’d say these are a woman’s possessions, or of course, a male-to-female transition or potentially drag,” she added the last bits in case I wouldn’t consider them. Still, I’d already added them to my mental list. “Getting details from something buried in mud and water for so long is difficult.”

“How can you find anything at all?”

“It’s a painstaking process. We have to clean and preserve each item carefully. Sometimes, we use special chemicals to stabilize the materials. Other times, it’s a matter of patience and a steady hand. Each piece can tell us something, even if it’s just a small detail,” she explained, her voice steady and focused. “These personal effects can give us clues about the person’s life, but it takes time to fit it all together.”

I nodded, even though she couldn’t see me. “I understand. Any chance of DNA from the possessions?”

“Very unlikely.”

Disappointment overwhelmed me. Shit. “Okay, can you keep me updated on any progress?”

“I’ve uploaded photos of what we have to a secure area. I’m sending you access now.” My phone pinged with a notification.

“Thank you.”

As I hung up, my mind still buzzed with questions, and I scrolled through the photos. The bible was promising if there was any chance it had a name somewhere that could be retrieved. The photo frame was a possible clue. But whether the luggage and its contents were connected to the bones? Who knew? The mystery of the bones and the belongings was far from solved, but at least we were progressing. Slowly but surely.

“Unc—Sheriff?” Jason called out, his arms laden with folders, each as precarious as the next. He juggled them and caught them at the last minute, a puff of dust escaping. I stepped forward to help him place them on the desk.

“Your coffee and a donut that Solomon said you liked are on your desk,” Jason continued, straightening and lowering his voice. “I need to ask a question, and I don’t want Solomon to think I’m stupid, but he said I needed to file these in order, and I’m stuck.”

This was promising. “Go on.”

“Like I get the alphabet, duh, we all do, right?”

“Right.”

“But…” he looked left and right as if he expected Solomon to jump out at him and laugh, and he was bright red. “Is the file for Olivia and David McBride under O for Olivia, D for David, M for McBride, or do we ignore the Mc part and put it under B for Bride?”

I couldn’t help but smile because a red-faced nephew who wasn’t buried in his phone and was talking to me was lovely. “M. It’s the last name and the entire last name.”

“Cool, but what about the file for that Owen-Long car theft thing? Is that O or L?” he asked, his curiosity genuine.

“Wait, you’re reading the cases?” I raised an eyebrow, more impressed than irritated.

“I’m learning,” he defended, standing a bit taller.

“And you signed all the health and safety paperwork and the confidentiality forms?”

“Yep.”

“And you know nothing you read leaves this office?” I added, making sure he understood the gravity of his responsibilities.

“Yes, sir,” Jason replied with a nod.

I couldn’t help but smile at his enthusiasm. “Good. It’s under O for Owen. Keep up the good work, Jason.”

He preened at the praise—and again, I smiled. Maybe having him around wouldn’t be so bad if he could remember the alphabetical filing system.

I headed into my office, picked up the donut, finished it in four bites, swallowed the lukewarm coffee, and headed back out. I glanced into the back office at Jason who was already back to filing with newfound determination.

“I’m going to take a drive out to Abraham’s place,” I advised Solomon as I passed and didn’t wait for him to add a comment.

As I pulled up to the small, weather-beaten house, the sun was dull in a leaden fall sky. The place had seen better days, and so had Abraham. He was sitting on his porch, staring at the ground, a picture of defeat.

“Hey, Abraham,” I called out as I got out of the car, checking around him for a weapon, aware of my surroundings, given the whole rifle-snatching incident with Connor.

He looked up, his eyes tired and filled with regret. “Sheriff,” he greeted me, his voice barely above a whisper.

I walked over and sat on the porch steps next to him. “Your brother’s worried about you. He said he hadn’t heard from you since last night.”

Abraham sighed, rubbing a hand over his stubbled face. “I don’t want to lay all of this on him.”

“That’s what families are for.”

“I know, but…” He sighed. “I’ve been an idiot, and he never wavered. Worse than that, Joe at the garage offered me a job.” He shook his head. “I’m ashamed. I lost my cool and chased my wife away. Everything’s a mess. What if I take this job, and it all goes wrong again, and then I never come back?”

“You drinking right now?”

He glanced at me; eyes wide. “No, sir.”

I leaned back, considering his words. “Then what if it goes right?” I countered.

He looked at me, searching for reassurance. “I don’t know. I’ve messed up so much.”

“Joe’s giving you a chance. Why not take it?”

He nodded slowly, the weight of his guilt and shame still heavy.

“Abe, you provided for your family for thirty years, your kids are grown, your marriage is strong,” I said, clapping him on the shoulder. “This is a blip, a minor hurdle. Take it one day at a time, yeah? You can’t fix everything overnight, but you can start moving in the right direction.”

He managed a small smile. “I appreciate it.”

“Anytime, Abraham. And remember, you don’t have to do this alone. Reach out if you need help.”

“Will you talk to Lucy?”

“What do you want me to say?”

He bit his lip, couldn’t meet my eyes, and instead stared out at his front yard and my car. “That I love her? No, that won’t sound right coming from you. Can you tell her I got this job, and I’m trying?”

“Sure, I can.”

And, when I left Lucy at Solomon’s house an hour later, she hugged me, cried, and thanked me for the message. I hoped that everything would calm down for her and Abraham and that they would return to being happy.

As I drove away, my thoughts wandered to the importance of community and the role I played in it. This is what Connor couldn’t see. It wasn’t all about good and bad guys, and it wasn’t black and white. It was community and understanding my place in it.

I’d do anything for this town.

Chapter Seventeen

CONNOR

I didn’t need to ask Neil about Ezekiel Miller, but I’d use every excuse possible to see the hot, sexy sheriff. I couldn’t get the buttoned-up man out of my head. With every thought and every spare moment, Neil’s face invaded my mind. So, I’d fabricated a reason, knowing full well I’d run into him, and then crowded him against the door, hoping I might get a kiss.

I could have stolen a kiss.

I didn’t.

But God, I was hard, and even an hour of research into the bull riding circuit for my new job to find LouAnne’s ex-boyfriend failed to get Neil out of my head.

At least following Ezekiel’s trail to a fairground four hours south of Whisper Ridge got me focusing on driving, which was something, and by the time I ended up at the Red River Bull Riding Fairground, I wasn’t quite so hard or focused on Neil. The place wasn’t bustling with activity, but then it was midweek and out-of-season—no kids running around with cotton candy, but there was still that smell of fried food wafting through the air. I hadn’t watched rodeo much but knew it was a vast industry.

Ezekiel’s trailer was easy to find among a small cluster of semi-permanent mobile homes and RVs dotting the outskirts of the fairground. It was a modest, worn-down setup, with peeling paint and a small porch cluttered with gear and tools. A couple of empty soda cans sat beside a folding chair, and a bull riding poster flapped against the side in the wind.

I knocked on the door, and moments later, Ezekiel emerged. He was a sturdy man in his mid-thirties, with a sun-weathered face and hands that had seen their share of hard work. His jeans were frayed at the hems, and his boots looked like they’d been through hell and back. Despite his rough exterior, his friendly smile put me at ease. My research indicated he was a safety man responsible for distracting the bull after the rider was thrown. It seemed way more dangerous than being a SEAL, but each to his own.

“Hey there, name’s Connor,” I introduced myself, offering a hand.

Ezekiel shook my hand firmly. “Zeke, what can I do for you?”

“I’m here from Whisper Ridge.”

His demeanor changed as quick as a flash. The friendliness faded, replaced by a flicker of anxiety.

“Is it LouAnne? Is she okay? Jesus, is it Archie?” his voice was tight with concern.

I nodded, keeping my expression neutral. “They’re both fine,” I lied because besides what I needed to know regarding a connection to Quinn through Archie, I didn’t know much about LouAnne herself, just that Archie was a good kid.

Ezekiel ran a hand through his hair, clearly uneasy. “LouAnne… she’s had a tough go of it. Alcohol and … yeah… Archie, poor kid.”

“You have a daughter. Grace?”

He glanced behind him through the open door and shut it before approaching me.

“What about Grace? She’s not LouAnne’s, she’s mine, and I’m with Essie now.” His hands were fists, but I stepped back and kept my expression neutral.

“It’s Archie⁠—”

“You said he was okay.”

“He is, but he asked me to track you down.”

“What? Why? Is everything okay?”

I could see the question in his eyes—Archie wasn’t his son, and Ezekiel hadn’t been in Whisper Ridge long enough to have Archie calling him dad.

“Archie wants to see Grace, wants to know Grace. Calls her his sister.”

“She’s not his real sister,” Ezekiel amended, defensive, and then he shook his head. “He was always good with her when I was on the road. They should know about each other. I just never thought he’d want to, but with his mom being as she is, and…” He slumped then, sitting back on the porch, and I crouched in front of him. “I tried to stay with her, but I couldn’t, and she wouldn’t let me take him with me, but she couldn’t stop me taking Grace, and shit… I meant to go back, but the work here is long and…”

I knocked his elbow when he went quiet. “Can I tell Archie you’ll call him? Can we figure out a visit?”

He shot me a worried stare, and then his expression cleared, and he nodded. “Please.”

I was back in the car after meeting little Grace, who was this cute little thing who loved Barbies and missed her big brother Archie. The fact that she remembered him even at three made her dad pause, and then he scooped her up in a hug, apologizing for not visiting Archie and the woman she called Momma-Lou.

This was one of the easiest PI jobs I’d ever completed, and it gave me the warm fuzzies, so I threw caution to the wind, and when I got back to town, I broke into Neil’s place, and then sat on his sofa, waiting for him to react to the silent alarm I deliberately set off.

I needed to be inside him, and he needed to know that and admit he needed me too, and we should scratch that itch.

Then we’d be done.

Neil came home with his weapon drawn, I remained calm, sitting casually on his comfy stuffed sofa in the dimly lit living room. The room was filled with the soft glow of a lamp, the sound of rain pattering against the windows, and the heater humming in the background.

Neil’s eyes flickered with anger and confusion as he saw me. He locked his gun away in the safe. “I could arrest you for breaking and entering,” he said, his tone icy.

“You won’t,” I replied, a smirk tugging at my lips.

“I will,” he insisted, but there was a hint of hesitation.

“You won’t.”

“It’s like you’re stalking me.”

“Am I, though?”

“You broke into my house.”

I’d give him that. “Sure.”

“And you won’t leave me alone, which is textbook stalking.”

“You know you don’t want me to leave you alone.”

He huffed at that. “Fuck’s sake.”

“I was just waiting for you.”

Neil’s eyes narrowed, and I could see the tension in his jaw. The rain outside continued its relentless assault on the windows, the noise only amplifying the charged atmosphere between us. I could feel the heat building, the anticipation. I was hard, and I could see the outline of Neil’s arousal tenting the front of his uniform pants.

Was a man ever as sexy as Neil Windham?

“You should come here and sit on my lap,” I suggested, my voice low and coaxing.

“No,” he snapped, but I could see the conflict in his eyes.

“Come on, Sheriff,” I teased, my voice dripping with cockiness and desire.

He cursed under his breath, the irritation clear in his tone. But then he was moving, crossing the room in a few quick strides. He straddled my lap, his body tense and warm against mine.

“I hate you,” Neil muttered, his voice a mix of anger and something else—something needier.

“No, you don’t,” I said, my hands resting on his hips. I felt the tension and heat radiating from him.

His eyes blazed with a mix of frustration and desire. “You drive me crazy,” he admitted, his voice softer now.

I leaned in, my lips brushing his ear. “I know, but you want me as much as I want you.”

He didn’t deny it. Instead, he sighed in resignation, his body relaxing against mine. The rain continued to pound against the windows, the dim light casting shadows that danced around the room. The warmth of the heating and the coziness of the sofa seemed to wrap around us, creating a bubble where nothing else mattered.

Neil’s breath hitched as I ran my hands up his back, pulling him closer. “I hate you,” he whispered again, but this time was less convincing.

“Show me how much,” I challenged, my voice husky with need.

He captured my lips in a fierce kiss, pouring out all the pent-up frustration and desire in that moment. Then, without a word, he scrambled off, too quick for me to catch. I watched him for a heartbeat, my mind reeling. But when I saw him heading to the bedroom, something clicked inside. I wasn’t going to let him walk away, not without making him understand.

I followed him, ready to apologize, to make him see that this was me being the most real I’d ever been. Also, I wanted him, not out of desperation or confusion, but for all the right reasons. He stopped at the bedroom door, and I froze for a second, wondering if he would turn around. But he didn’t. Instead, he started to remove his uniform, one layer at a time, methodically placing each piece on a chair in the corner. He never looked back, but I knew he was aware of me standing there, just as I knew this was my moment to break through the last of his defenses.

Then, as if he could sense my hesitation, Neil turned to me, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that made my breath catch. “You have too many clothes on,” he said, his voice low, almost rough with unspoken need.

I’d never stripped so fast in my life. My fingers fumbled with the buttons, the zipper, and anything in the way until I was down to nothing, not a shred of clothing or hint of doubt left. By the time I looked up, Neil had crawled onto the bed, naked, his body a perfect mix of tension and surrender.

“Okay.” He was resigned, as if he’d made a final, hard-won decision. “Okay,” he repeated, softer this time, and held his hand to me. “I’m done fighting this.”

His words hit me like a jolt, even though I knew exactly what he meant. There was no more pretending, no more walls between us. I crossed the room in a few quick steps, taking his outstretched hand. With our fingers laced, he pulled me down on top of him. I tumbled onto the bed, onto him. As he spread his legs, I settled between his.

“Show me what you’ve got, Mr. I-think-I’m-all-that.”

“You think I’m all that?” I teased and lowered my lips to his, enjoying a long, lazy kiss that was less about sex and more about everything I felt for Neil.

“No,” he murmured when we separated. “I said, you think you’re all that. I don’t have any opinion on the subject.”

“You’re lying,” I said and tracked kisses from his lips to his chin and then to his neck, lower until I could suck a mark I knew would be hidden by his uniform. I trailed licks and nibbles from Neil’s neck, savoring the way his breath hitched with each kiss. The taste of his skin was intoxicating, and his warmth beneath me only fueled the fire. As I moved lower, I could feel his muscles tense and relax. He carded a hand through my hair, his fingers curling there, not to guide or control, but to anchor himself, the other hand touching my face.

“What have you done to me?” he moaned as if he didn’t want to feel all of this we had going on.

As if he were going to up and leave at any minute.

“Stay still.”

I couldn’t tell if I was warning or begging.

“Stuff!” He flailed a hand toward the nightstand, unable to reach it because I had him trapped beneath me.

Shit. He’s trapped beneath me. I could do anything.

I want to do everything.

“In a minute,” I managed as I kissed and nibbled his left nipple and then his right.

I kissed a path down his chest, my lips grazing over the faint contours of his body, feeling every slight tremor running through him. His skin was so impossibly soft, and I couldn’t get enough of it. Each kiss I placed was deliberate, a promise, a plea, an unspoken confession of everything I felt.

When I reached his belly, the softness there made me pause, made me want to linger. He didn’t have a six-pack. He wasn’t only hard and muscled; he was a contradiction of edges and lines and smooth and soft, and I wanted it all. I pressed my lips gently to his tender belly, feeling the slight give of his flesh beneath me, whispered kisses there and then lower, until I was able to lick and suck his cock, never taking him fully in my mouth, playing with him like a puppy with a toy. I wanted to learn every inch of him, and I felt like a goddamn winner when I found a birthmark on his inner thigh. I kissed him there, my cheek nudging his cock, which was hard in my hands.

He yanked my hair. “Suck me,” he demanded.

But there was no way he was in control of this. Yes, I was versatile, and yes, I hoped to hell that one day he’d pin me and make me lose my mind, but today was all about me showing him what I wanted, and as I licked him from root to tip, I was taking it all.

Now I needed condoms, I needed lube, I needed more kisses. I reared up over him, caged him, took his hands, held them loosely in mine, pressed him to the mattress, and kissed him again, slower this time, letting my mouth linger as I breathed him in, feeling the rise and fall of his breath beneath my lips.

“Babe, you’re beautiful,” I whispered, and he couldn’t answer me as I kissed him hard, although I saw his frown.

When the kiss was deeper, when I rocked against him, our cocks hard against each other, I heard the slight catch in his breath, felt the way his body responded to every brush of my lips, and it filled me with a sense of awe. I kissed him again and again. He attempted to twist his hands out of my grasp to reach the drawer.

I released my hold and then cradled his face. “I’ll sort it, babe.”

“I’m not your babe,” he muttered as he wriggled under me, his eyes widening when it hit him that fidgeting just made everything worse for him. And for me.

“Tested negative, PrEP, always condoms,” I whispered against his lips.

He nodded. “Same.”

“Aren’t we being sensible adults now?” I smiled.

“Fuck off and fuck me, asshole,” he snarled.

I kissed the snarl into submission. I could do this all day, kiss and rock, make love to my man.

“Not until you relax,” I whispered, reaching for the needed supplies and dropping them next to us. I sat back, straddling his hips, getting a close look at his beautiful cock as I concentrated on suiting up and then squeezing a hell of a lot of lube on my fingers. Then I moved, using my knees to widen his legs, and nearly came there and then. “You’re gorgeous all over.”

“It’s an asshole,” Neil snarled, and I sighed.

“It’s a beautiful fucking asshole,” I pointed out, and he closed his eyes with a sigh when I pressed my fingers to his hole. “Hey, babe⁠—”

“Stop calling⁠—”

“You’re my asshole.”

He rolled his eyes, and god, did he not realize how sexy he was when he was pissed at me?

I stretched him, all the time kissing his belly, finding that birthmark, rubbing my cheek on his cock, inhaling the scent of him, and loving him the best I could.

“I’m ready. Get inside.”

He attempted to turn on his front, but I pinned him, snagged a pillow and pushed it under his ass. “I want to see your face.”

“No. Come on. Jeez⁠—”

“Stop talking.”

He shut up when I pressed the tip of my cock to his hole, closed his eyes, strain on his face as I worked my way inside, one barrier, the next, until I was fully seated and willing away my instant freaking orgasm.

“Beautiful,” I murmured, kissing him as I rocked, his cock trapped between us.

He gripped my arms, still tense, and then he began to relax, curling up a little as I hooked his legs over my lower arms, knee-walking enough that I could change the angle. I knew the moment I pegged him, the very second he felt the first pass of my cock on his prostate. He gasped and whimpered as I did it over and over. Of course, he was tight, but when he gripped my arms, and began to groan, I was losing control.

“I’m close,” I warned him, and he circled his cock, but his hold was loose, and his eyes were shut. “Open your eyes, babe.”

He was so lost in chasing the high that he never even called me on it, and then he arched beautifully, his mouth open, his eyes wide. I fucked into him as he tightened impossibly hard around me, and I came inside him as he orgasmed beneath me.

For a moment, we lay there in silence, and then, with reluctance, I eased myself out, kissing him through any discomfort, and then I padded to the bathroom, grabbed a cloth, made it damp, and headed back into the bedroom. Part of me expected he’d have gotten off the bed, but instead, he was boneless, his softening dick so pretty on his thigh. I cleaned him gently, soothed any parts I might have hurt with kisses, and then pulled the covers over us and held him close.

“Go to sleep, babe.”

He muttered something in my arms, I think it might have been a fuck you, but I smiled.

He was in my arms, and I was in his.

This was where we were supposed to be.

Chapter Eighteen

NEIL

I woke up, and this time I wasn’t alone. Connor was sprawled next to me, fast asleep, the sheet barely covering the swell of his ass. Where was the all-action hero now? Loose-limbed and sleeping right where I could touch him. And I wanted to touch him.

“You need to wake up,” I said, my voice soft but firm.

Connor stirred, his sleepy, gorgeous eyes blinking open. His short, dark hair was spiked and messy, and a sleep crease marked one cheek. He was beautiful like this, soft and sweet, and that was all there was for a moment.

Then he raised a single eyebrow, smirked at me, and reality came rushing back.

“Morning, babe,” he said, his voice husky from sleep, a slow, lazy smile spreading across his face.

I couldn’t help but smile back, though I tried to suppress it. “Don’t ‘babe’ me.”

“You liked it when I called you that last night.”

“I didn’t.”

He smirked again. “Maybe it only works when my cock is in your ass, babe,” he deadpanned.

I ignored him, “You need to get moving.”

He stretched, the sheet slipping further down, exposing more of his toned body. “Why rush? I was enjoying the view,” he teased, stroking a finger along my hip bone, getting dangerously close to my morning wood.

I rolled my eyes, but the warmth in my chest betrayed my irritation. “Because you can’t stay here.”

Connor propped himself up on one elbow, his eyes locking onto mine. “And why not? You seemed to enjoy my company last night.”

I felt a flush creeping up my neck. “That’s not the point. I have responsibilities, and you have … whatever it is you do.”

He chuckled, the sound low and rumbling. “Tracking down leads, solving mysteries, driving you crazy. You know, the usual.”

I shook my head, trying to keep my composure. “Just … shower and get dressed. Use this bathroom. There’s a new toothbrush under the sink. I’ll make some coffee.”

I couldn’t help but glance back at him as I left. He was already up, stretching with a cat-like grace, the sheet forgotten on the floor. For a moment, I just stood there, taking him in. God, what that cock had done to me last night.

He caught me staring and grinned, pointing at his erection. “Like what you see, Sheriff?”

I turned away. “Just hurry the fuck up, asshole.”

“Will do, babe.”

I hope to hell he didn’t hear me growl.

I hurried to the other bathroom as fast as I could without looking like an idiot, showered at hyper-speed, brushed my teeth, dressed in my uniform, and headed to the kitchen, all in the space of five minutes, easily beating him there.

The scent of brewing coffee filled the small kitchen, mingling with the sounds of Connor in the shower and then getting dressed. Despite the complications, despite everything, there was a strange sense of normalcy on this chaotic morning.

As he joined me in the kitchen, back in his jeans and Iron Maiden T-shirt, he leaned against the counter, watching me with those piercing eyes. “So, what’s on your agenda for today?”

I handed him a mug of coffee, trying to ignore how my heart skipped a beat when our fingers touched. “Same as always. Keeping this town in one piece and safe from idiot SEALs who go around causing trouble.”

Connor took a sip, his eyes never leaving mine. “Sounds like a plan.”

We stood there silently, the morning light filtering through the curtains, casting a warm glow over everything. At least the world outside could wait for now, but soon, he’d need to get out.

He stepped into my space, placed his coffee on the counter, then relieved me of mine and put it next to his.

“I need a goodbye kiss,” he murmured and cradled my face, tilting my head, his pillow-soft lips touching mine, a featherlight touch with the tip of his tongue. Then in a second of combustion, he devoured me, and I let him.

I had no regrets.

Until he said goodbye at the back door. “See you later, babe.”

I threw the nearest thing I had to hand, a dishcloth, which hit the doorframe and made no impact on the asshole at all. He left, chuckling, and somehow, as I loaded the two mugs into my half-size dishwasher, I realized one thing.

I was already missing the fucker.

I decided to take Jason along on a ride-along today. He’d been bugging me about getting out of the office, and I figured it was time he saw what the job was like. A call had come in about a fencing dispute between two landowners on the outskirts of town—figured it would be a good way to show him the more … diplomatic side of being sheriff.

As we drove, Jason kept his eyes glued to the window, taking in the sights with curiosity and excitement. It reminded me of when I was younger, riding along with my old man back when he was sheriff. It was strange to see the same eagerness in Jason that I once had, though I wasn’t sure how long it would last once he saw the reality of it.

“So, Jason,” I said. “How are the college applications going?”

He glanced at me. “Good. Slow, though,” he admitted, his voice uncertain. “I want to work with computers. Maybe something in programming or IT. I’ve been looking at a few colleges with good tech programs. Don’t tell Grandpa.”

“Your grandpa just wants you to be happy.”

“Yeah, but don’t tell him. He gets confused.”

I patted his arm. “You’re a good kid, Jason.”

By this time, we’d pulled up to the scene—a dusty patch of land where the properties of Bob Harlan and the infamous parking asshole Phil Thompson butted up against each other. The two men were already there, standing on opposite sides of the fence, red-faced and shouting over each other.

Bob Harlan was a grizzled old rancher with a thick mustache and a cowboy hat that had seen better days. He’d been working his land for over thirty years and was as stubborn as they came. On the other hand, Phil Thompson was a bit younger, maybe in his early fifties, with a clean-shaven face and a reputation for being a hothead, and for parking in handicapped spaces, pushing the limits. He’d moved to Whisper Ridge about a decade ago, and ever since then, the two had been at odds over just about everything.

“Sheriff!” Bob called out as I stepped out of the car. “You tell this man to keep his cattle on his side of the fence!”

“Sheriff, this fence line’s been a problem for years, and Bob here keeps moving it further onto my property!” Phil shot back, his voice rising with each word.

I walked over, holding up a hand to calm them down. “All right, gentlemen, let’s take a breath and talk this through.”

Jason followed close behind, his eyes wide as he surveyed the scene. This was probably the most excitement he’d seen all week.

“Bob, Phil,” I said, turning to each of them. “I know neither of you is looking for trouble. But we’re not gonna solve anything by shouting.”

Bob crossed his arms, grumbling, while Phil kicked at the dirt, still fuming. But they were listening.

“Let’s look at the property line,” I suggested, walking over to the fence. “We’ll get a surveyor out here if necessary, but let’s agree to keep things calm. No more moving fences and letting cattle wander where they shouldn’t.”

Bob sighed, tipping his hat back. “Fine. But this isn’t over, Sheriff.”

“It doesn’t have to be over today,” I replied, meeting his gaze. “But let’s at least keep it civil.”

Phil nodded with reluctance. “Yeah, all right. But if I find that fence moved again⁠—”

“You’ll what?” I interrupted, and Phil blustered and then dropped his focus, his anger subsiding.

“Nothing, Sheriff.”

“Good. We’ll get this sorted.”

With that, the tension in the air started to ease. The two men exchanged one last glare before retreating to their sides of the fence. I exhaled and turned to Jason, who was as shocked as if he’d just witnessed a magic trick.

“That was amazing,” he said, his voice full of awe. “You just … calmed them down like it was nothing.”

I chuckled, shaking my head. “It’s not always that easy, trust me. But a lot of this job is just getting people to talk, to see reason. You’ll figure it out.”

Jason was quiet for a moment, then he grinned. “You know, one day, I might want to be sheriff. Or a games designer. Or maybe a social media star. I haven’t decided yet.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “A social media star, huh? “

He shrugged, a bit unsure. “I’m still figuring it out.”

“Well, you’ve got time,” I said, clapping him on the shoulder as we walked back to the car. “But remember, whether being a sheriff, a games designer, or a social media star, it’s about knowing what you stand for. That’s what’s important.”

Oh god, did that sound preachy?

Jason nodded, his expression thoughtful as he climbed into the passenger seat. As we drove away, I couldn’t help but feel a slight sense of pride. Maybe the kid had a lot to learn, but he had potential. And who knew? Maybe one day, he would follow in my footsteps. Or perhaps he’d be the next big thing on the internet. Either way, I had a feeling he’d make us all proud.

My good mood lasted to the office.

Right until I walked inside and saw my dad hunched in a chair, Solomon fussing around him, holding a towel to his face, and my mom crying by the small kitchen.

But worse than that? My worlds had collided because Connor was there as well, leaning against the wall with a bloodied nose.

The fuck?

Chapter Nineteen

CONNOR

Neil’s eyes locked onto mine, and I could instantly see where his brain had gone. His dad, here in front of him, was covered in blood. I was standing there with a bloodied nose. I watched his spine straighten—that sudden steel in his posture that meant he was ready to take control of the situation.

“What happened?” Neil asked, his voice steady but his eyes drilling into me. “What did you do?”

Yep, I knew he’d go there. Before I could respond, Solomon spoke up, trying to ease the tension. “Your mom and dad were in a wreck,” he said. “We’ve called the doc, and he’s on his way.”

Neil’s gaze didn’t waver from me. “What happened?” he repeated, frustration creeping into his voice as he looked at everyone, but no one else seemed to have the answer he was looking for.

I took a step closer, knowing I needed to explain before he jumped to any more conclusions. “I was driving out to Lennox Ranch,” I started, keeping my tone calm and measured, “and I saw a car in the ditch. I pulled over and helped the driver and passenger out. The driver was disoriented … and, uh … got the beat on me. I brought them here. Your dad was driving and got a cut on his forehead—it’s bleeding pretty badly. Your mom is okay.”

Neil’s mom spoke up, her voice shaky. “I didn’t want your dad to drive off alone, but … he got confused, and we ended up in that ditch. I’m so sorry, Neil. And I’m sorry he punched Connor, who was trying to help.”

Neil glanced over at his mom, his expression softening, though the tension in his shoulders didn’t ease. He walked over to her, crouching down to meet her eyes. “Are you okay, Mom?”

She nodded, though she was still shaken. “I’m fine. It’s just … your father … I should have insisted on driving.”

“You know he hates letting others drive,” Neil murmured. “It’s not your fault, Mom.”

Neil glanced at Jason, sitting quietly with his grandpa and holding his hand. Jason stared back with wide eyes, clearly trying to be brave.

“Grandpa’s okay, right, Uncle Neil?” Jason asked, his voice small.

Neil forced a smile, ruffling Jason’s hair. “Yeah, buddy, Grandpa’s okay. He needs a little help right now, and the doctor will be here soon to ensure that.”

Jason nodded, reassured, though he didn’t release his grandpa’s hand.

Neil stood and faced me again, his eyes still carrying that wary expression. “Thanks for helping them, Connor,” he said, though his voice still hinted at tension.

“Anytime,” I replied, keeping my voice steady, although I knew we’d have more to discuss later. His father’s dementia had advanced, and I wondered if maybe Neil’s father had suffered a breakdown or worse. Of course, I knew about Neil’s parents—I had files on everyone. I knew he’d been sheriff way back, I knew he’d been shot even further back when he was in the army, and I knew that the bullet fragment had caused these issues. I also knew there was nothing anyone could do. My heart hurt for the family as they tried to hold everything together.

“Did someone call Bessie?” he asked.

I nodded. Calling his sister was one of the first things I’d done after contacting the doctor.

The door opened, and Daniel hurried in, assessing the situation. As he moved to check on Neil’s dad, I stepped back, giving them space. Neil stayed close to his parents, his focus shifting to them, but I could still feel the weight of his earlier gaze on me, thinking I’d done something to his family.

That hurt, but there again, my reputation preceded me.

The immediate crisis was being handled, but I knew this wasn’t over. There was more to this—more to talk about and figure out. But I’d stay close in case Neil needed me again. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, I was here, and I wasn’t going anywhere.

Daniel insisted that Neil’s dad get checked out at the hospital in Collier Springs, and just like that, Solomon and I were left in the building. The place felt emptier than usual, the tension from earlier still hanging in the air. I didn’t want to stick around longer than necessary, so I exited, heading out to Lennox Ranch for the meeting with Quinn I’d delayed after finding the car in the ditch.

I drove past said car, which was off the main road, and texted Neil the location so the department could deal with it later. Then it was straight on, passing the main ranch, the familiar buildings and fields slipping by as I carried on up the hill to where Quinn and Levi had built their new place. It was on a stretch of land Levi had bought from Micah, perched to catch the best views of the surrounding landscape. The log cabin that came into view was nothing short of impressive. Fancy, but not pretentious—precisely what I’d expect from Quinn and Levi.

The cabin was large, crafted from thick logs, giving it a rugged, earthy charm. It was the kind of place that felt solid, as though it could weather any storm, and in fact, it had weathered the storm of the century that had created the landslide. Note to self: ensure the cabin is built on bedrock and nowhere near an underground watercourse. Something I was sure Quinn’s architect would have checked.

A wrap-around porch hugged the building, adding a touch of warmth and welcome. Off to the side, a second set of stables sat on a large, flat yard, well-maintained and close for Levi’s work with the horses.

As I pulled up, I spotted Levi in the field, training. He moved with a quiet confidence, entirely in tune with the animal. I waved, and he lifted a hand before returning to the horse, focused on the task.

I made my way up to the house, my boots echoing on the wooden steps as I climbed onto the porch. Inside, the cabin was just as impressive—cozy but spacious, with large windows letting in natural light. Quinn and Levi had made a real home here, and I hated to admit it, but envy twinged in me. This jealousy over what everyone else had was happening all too often, and I hated the intrusive thoughts.

“Get a grip,” I muttered.

I found Quinn in his office, surrounded by papers and a few open laptops.

Quinn glanced up as I entered, his face breaking into a wide smile. He was different from the man I’d met a few years ago. Back then, he was guarded, always looking over his shoulder, always in the media. Now, he was relaxed, happy, and content—a man who’d found his place in the world. At the moment, his hair was the palest shade of blue, which only added to his serene appearance.

“Connor,” he greeted, still smiling as he leaned back in his chair. “Thanks for coming.”

“Of course,” I replied, taking a seat opposite him. “What’s this about?”

Since my security work with Quinn had lessened, I’d taken on other projects, but I assumed one of those was why Quinn had called me that day. He didn’t waste any time getting to the point.

“I’ve been working on something for a while now,” Quinn began, his tone turning serious. “I’m looking to expand the foundation. I want to set up some scholarships for two students I’ve been sponsoring through their senior years at school, Bryce Anderson and Dillon James. But first, I’ve invited them to come and stay here at Lennox Ranch for a bit in the New Year, so I thought you’d want a heads-up to run your usual checks.”

I grinned at my boss. “Bold of you to assume I haven’t already done that on anything you are connected with.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Of course you have.”

“But I’ll double-check everything, just to be safe.”

Quinn’s smile softened, and he leaned forward, resting his arms on the desk. “How are you?”

That was a question from nowhere. “I’m good,” I answered, but he wasn’t done.

“Anything you want to tell me?”

“No.”

He brushed imaginary lint from his pants and wouldn’t meet my eyes. “Sooo,” he drawled. “Noah told Chris, who told Daniel, who told Micah, who then told Levi…” He paused and bit his lip.

“Noah told who what?” I was sharp, but I wasn’t following all of that.

“You’re in and out of Neil’s place, and y’know, doing the horizontal mambo.” Quinn shimmied in his seat, then formed a circle with one hand, poking a finger through.

I covered my eyes. The last thing I needed to see was my boss simulating whatever that was. “‘The horizontal mambo’?” I repeated after a pause.

“I thought you didn’t get on,” Quinn finished, and I waited for more because I knew he’d have something to add. “If you want to talk about it.”

“You want to talk about me having sex with the town sheriff?” I asked.

He snickered, “Well, when you put it that way…”

I could laugh this off, but Quinn was a friend I could talk to about anything, and no filters were needed with him. So, I took a deep breath and steadied myself, and he perked up as if I would give him the best gossip.

“I don’t know,” I began, which was a lame start. “What’s happening between us, it’s … it’s not just physical.”

“Oooh, this is good,” Quinn said, and I raised an eyebrow at him. “Tell me more about you and the studly sheriff getting physical and how you’re feeling more.”

I paused, the words feeling as heavy as they were real. The silence stretched out, but I knew Quinn was giving me space to gather my thoughts. Neil had gotten under my skin big time, and how I was going to navigate that, I wasn’t sure yet. But acknowledging it to someone—anyone—was a start.

“It’s unnerving,” I confessed, running a hand through my hair. “Because it’s not just about the sex, you know? It feels like there’s something more, something more than fighting and fucking. Something deeper.” Now what? “And that’s all I can say.”

Quinn seemed disappointed I’d stopped, but then he brightened. “I get it. Relationships can be complex, especially when they start touching parts of you that you didn’t expect.” He waggled his eyebrows.

I sighed with added drama. “Idiot.”

The admission made it real, making my feelings for Neil something I couldn’t ignore or brush off as a fling. It was more, and admitting it out loud meant I had to confront the implications of what that more could mean for my future.

“Oh boy, you have it bad,” he murmured. “You’re all loved up.”

“Sexed up,” I amended.

He smirked. “I said what I said.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“Are there wedding bells in the future? Will you be Mr. Sheriff?”

I picked up a fancy cushion from the spare office chair and threw it at him. My aim was deadly, and he got a face full of fake fur. “I’m done here,” I grumbled.

He laughed. “Well, if I can’t hear all about your love life, do you want to see my new coffee machine?”

Anything to stop the embarrassment, yes. “Lead the way.”

We ended up in the front room with the views down the mountain, in overstuffed sofas, sipping coffee from mugs that were probably worth more than most people’s rent. The smell of fresh coffee filled the room, warm and rich, as we chatted about everything and nothing. Quinn wasn’t only my boss; he was my friend, and moments like these reminded me of that. The heavy stuff could wait. For now, it was the two of us enjoying a rare quiet moment, and I wasn’t going to talk anymore about how I was in and out of the sheriff’s bed.

But I’d wanted to. God, I’d been bursting with the need to tell my best friend about how I was catching feelings, how Neil was a god in bed, and how much I wanted him.

What stopped me?

Maybe the fact I’d have to own up to how I was feeling and that somehow this wasn’t something to brag about but was real.

Too real.

As we talked about the countdown to Christmas—which freaked me out, given it was only September—the sound of light padding on the hardwood floor caught my attention. Sky, Levi’s blue merle collie, trotted in and, without missing a beat, jumped onto the sofa, turning three times before settling down with his head nestled in Quinn’s lap.

I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Does Levi know he’s up on the sofa?”

Quinn shot me a conspiratorial grin. “No, and what Levi doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

“Hurt who?” Levi said from the doorway.

I turned to see him walking in, his cowboy hat askew, dust on his boots, and that easy, natural grace from a lifetime spent working with horses. He had the classic cowboy look down to a T—worn jeans, a faded flannel shirt, and a broad leather belt. He walked over to the sofa, leaning down to give Quinn an upside-down kiss as he ruffled Sky’s fur.

“Jesus, Quinn, you’re spoiling that dog,” Levi said with a mock scolding tone, though the affection in his voice was apparent.

Quinn laughed, a sound that was light and carefree. “Says the man who lets Sky sleep in our bed whenever I’m not home,” he shot back.

Levi straightened up, feigning innocence. “Hey, the bed’s big enough for all three of us.”

“Next thing I know, you’ll invite Blake in too?”

Blake was Levi’s horse, and I couldn’t imagine Blake getting through the doorway, let alone climbing on a bed.

Sky let out a contented sigh, his tail thumping on the sofa as he snuggled closer to Quinn. I watched as Levi sat beside him, one hand resting on Quinn’s knee, the other scratching Sky behind the ears.

They were a picture of happiness that was rare to find but even rarer to hold onto. Watching them, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of peace in this home. Quinn and Levi had found something special that made all the chaos worth it.

And in moments like this, it felt as though I’d found a bit of that peace, too, and not only by being part of their lives. The past few years had been a wild ride, but seeing them here, like this, made me think that maybe, just maybe, we were all where we were supposed to be.

Maybe I was supposed to be here in Whisper Ridge with Neil.

“More coffee?” Quinn asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

“Yeah,” I said, holding out my mug. “I’ll take another one.”

When Quinn padded out, Levi sat forward. “Little bird says they saw you leaving the sheriff’s place a few days back looking all kinds of disheveled and blissed out.”

“Freaking small towns,” I muttered.

“So?”

“So what?” I played dumb.

“Are you bumping uglies with our sheriff?”

I could laugh it off, make a joke, but something stopped me. “Ask your husband,” I deadpanned.

And I left before he did that very thing right before me.

The minutes dragged by as the darkness outside deepened as I waited at Neil’s place, using the code he’d given me to get inside.

Or the code I’d seen him use, which he reluctantly confirmed. Tomatoes, To-mah-toes.

I knew he was back in Whisper Ridge—I’d seen his distinctive SUV—and the house felt empty without him, too quiet, too still. I tried to keep busy—cleaned up the kitchen, straightened the living room, even considered cooking something—but nothing could distract me from the gnawing worry that had settled in my chest. I knew today had been hell for him, and all I wanted was to be there when he walked through the door.

It was late by the time I heard his car pulling up. I stood by the window, watching as he stepped out, shoulders slumped with exhaustion, his movements slow and heavy.

When he finally came inside, I was there, waiting. He didn’t say a word. He walked into my arms, burying his face in my neck. His silence spoke volumes, the tension in his body telling me everything I needed to know. He was exhausted, drained by the day’s events, and I could feel the tremors running through him, the way he held on as if he were afraid to let go.

“They’re keeping him in the hospital.”

“Come on,” I murmured, guiding him toward the bathroom. “Let’s get you in the shower.”

He didn’t protest—he followed my lead, his steps slow and unsteady. Once in the bathroom, I turned on the water, letting it run until it was warm enough, then helped him out of his clothes. He stood there, leaning against me for support, his head bowed, his breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps.

When I got him under the spray, he sighed, the hot water washing away some of the tension. I joined him, wrapping my arms around him, feeling his body relax a fraction as the warmth seeped into his bones. He was too quiet, and I knew his mind was a thousand miles away, lost in the worries that had been eating at him all day.

“It’s not fair,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “None of this is fair.”

“I know,” I said softly, kissing his temple. “I know.”

“They said he might’ve had a mini-stroke. A transient ischemic attack,” he continued, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t… I don’t know how much longer he’s going to be okay. It’s like he’s slipping away, piece by piece, and I can’t do anything to stop it.”

I tightened my hold on him, feeling the raw pain in his words. “It’s not fair,” I agreed, my heart aching for him. “But you’re doing everything you can. You’re here for him, and that’s what matters.”

He nodded against me, but I could feel the tears he was holding back, the silent struggle to keep it together. I turned him around, pressing him back against the cool tiles, my hands cupping his face, forcing him to meet my eyes.

“You’re not alone in this, Neil. I can be here for you if you want me to.”

“I don’t even like you,” he lied.

“Yes, you do,” I whispered.

His gaze softened, and momentarily, I saw the vulnerability he tried so hard to hide. He nodded again, a slight, almost invisible movement, and I kissed him, slow and tender, attempting to pour all the reassurance I could into that one simple act.

When we made love, I took control, guiding him, holding him close, making sure he felt every bit of the strength I wanted to give him. I held his hands, our fingers laced, grounding him, letting him know he didn’t have to be alone.

He clung to me, his breath hitching as we moved together, his body trembling under mine. I whispered soft words of comfort, promises I’d stay tonight. And when it was over, and he lay in my arms, spent and vulnerable, I stroked his hair, easing him into sleep.

“Go to sleep, babe,” I whispered, pressing a final kiss to his forehead. “I’ve got you.”

His breathing evened out, the tension slipping away as he drifted off. I held him close, and with him safe in my arms, I slept as well.

My last thought was that I hadn’t told him that people in town knew we were having a thing.

Tomorrow would be soon enough to share the news that might upset Neil.

He really needed to sleep.

Chapter Twenty

NEIL

Dr. Bennington’s office was almost too quiet as Mom, Bessie, and I sat there waiting for him to come in. The walls were lined with certificates and diplomas, a testament to the man’s expertise, but none of it made this any easier. Mom sat beside me, holding a rumpled envelope. She’d carried it everywhere for weeks, unable to let it go or open it. Bessie was on her other side, pale but determined, my sister’s eyes flicking between the door and the letter as if she couldn’t decide which was scarier.

Dr. Bennington came in, and his expression was a mix of professional detachment and the kind of sympathy you only get from someone who’s had to deliver bad news too many times. After the usual stilted pleasantries, he opened Dad’s file, the name GARRETT WINDHAM in big bold letters on the front.

“Let’s talk about Garrett’s condition,” Dr. Bennington began, settling into his chair. He glanced at the file in front of him, then back up at us. “As you’re aware, the bullet fragment that remained lodged in Garrett’s brain has been causing increasing problems. Initially, it was stable, not moving much, but it’s shifted over the past few months.”

He paused, letting that sink in. I could see Mom’s grip tighten on the armrest of her chair, her knuckles white. I knew she was already aware of this, but hearing it laid out so clinically made it all the more real.

“The fragment is pressing against critical areas of his brain,” Dr. Bennington continued, his tone even but heavy with the weight of his words. “This pressure has led to a decline in cognitive function, contributing significantly to his symptoms. We’re seeing more frequent and severe strokes as a result of this pressure. Each one takes a bit more from him.”

I swallowed hard, feeling a lump forming in my throat.

“And then there’s the dementia,” Dr. Bennington continued, his gaze steady as he checked in with each of us. “As you know, Garrett’s dementia is what we call mixed dementia. It’s primarily vascular dementia caused by the mini-strokes, but it’s also compounded by brain injury from the bullet fragment. It’s progressing more rapidly than we typically see because of these factors.”

He paused again, giving us a moment to digest everything. “The dementia affects his ability to process information and understand what’s happening around him. His short-term memory is deteriorating quickly.”

“He’s having trouble recognizing familiar faces and places,” Mom said. “Keeps talking about things that happened a long time ago.”

Dr. Bennington nodded. “His brain is essentially reverting to what it knows, what’s deeply embedded, and letting go of the present.”

I could feel my heart sinking with every word. It wasn’t as though I hadn’t noticed the changes in Dad, but hearing it laid out in such stark terms made it all the more devastating. We were watching someone we loved slip away, and no matter how hard we tried, we could do nothing to stop it.

“There’s something else you should know,” Dr. Bennington said, his tone softer now, more compassionate. “The combination of the bullet fragment and the dementia means that Garrett’s condition will continue to decline. We can manage the symptoms, but we can’t reverse them. The strokes will likely continue, and his cognitive abilities will keep deteriorating. It’s important to understand that the Garrett you knew…”

“Isn’t coming back,” I finished for him.

Dr. Bennington nodded, his eyes full of understanding. “I’m sorry. I know this isn’t easy to hear. But you must understand what’s happening to make the best decisions for his care.”

I glanced at Mom, who stared down at the envelope, her face a mask of barely contained grief. Bessie’s eyes were red-rimmed, her hands clenched tightly in her lap as she tried to hold herself together. I knew I had to be the strong one for them, but damn if it wasn’t hard.

“We’ll do what we have to,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt. “For him and us.”

Dr. Bennington gave a slight nod, acknowledging the weight of that statement. “The next step is to transition Garrett into the assisted living facility. They’ll be able to provide the level of care he needs as his condition progresses. It’s not an easy decision, but it’s right.” Dr. Bennington handed us some papers and information on the assisted living facility they’d been discussing—the place where Dad would spend the rest of his life.

I glanced at Mom again, who finally met my gaze, her eyes filled with unspoken pain. Dad had written the letter she held in her lap a long time ago when his memory had started playing tricks on him, and the first scans showed the damage and confirmed it would only deteriorate.

“I’ll leave you to talk,” the doctor said.

I didn’t even hear him leave—it was just us three remaining in the room.

“Mom,” I said gently, “maybe it’s time to open Dad’s letter.”

She stared at me, her eyes filling with tears, and then she nodded. Slowly, almost reverently, she handed the letter to me. “Will you read it for us?” she asked.

How could I say no?

I took the envelope, feeling the creases and worn edges beneath my fingers. After a deep breath, I unfolded the letter, smoothing out the crumpled paper.

Dad’s handwriting was shaky but familiar, the words scrawled in uneven lines.

Everyone—

Before I say anything else, please know how deeply proud I am of each of you.

To my wonderful daughter, Bessie, you’ve blossomed into such a strong, remarkable woman. The life you’ve created fills my heart with pride, and I couldn’t be happier with the man you chose to spend it with. Eric, you’ve been the anchor your family needed. I couldn’t have wished for a better son-in-law.

To my grandson, Jason—what a bright and spirited boy you are. It breaks my heart that I won’t be there to watch you grow, but I have no doubt you’ll be the best and excel in whatever path you choose. I know you’ll make all of us so proud.

To Neil, my son, I’ve always been in awe of you.

I was choked up and had to stop a moment—Mom reaching over to touch my hand. We exchanged glances, and she nodded her encouragement, so clearing my throat, I carried on.

Watching you become the sheriff and the man you are today has been one of my greatest joys. I know I didn’t handle things well when you came out to us, and I regret that deeply. I’m so sorry for the hurt I caused. You deserve nothing less than a love that fills you with joy, the way your mom has filled my life with happiness. I know you’ll find that person, and I’ll be cheering you on, wherever I am.

And my beautiful wife, Chloe. My love, you’ve been my rock, my safe harbor in every storm. Even when the light in my mind started to dim, you were there, unwavering. I love you more than words could ever express, and it pains me to say goodbye like this. If you’re reading this, then we both know it’s time. The world feels overwhelming now, and I’m ready to move into the assisted living Dr. Bennington spoke to us about. Please know that I’m at peace with this decision. I’m not afraid, and I’m happy knowing you all will be okay.

I love you all so much. More than you’ll ever know.

It’s time.

When I finished reading, the room was thick with emotion, my mom crying, Bessie holding her hand. None of us spoke for a moment, letting the weight of Dad’s words settle in, and then we walked outside, needing the fresh air and the open space. The three of us huddled together, arms wrapped around each other, and let the tears fall. It was the kind of grief that couldn’t be contained and had to be let out, and we didn’t hold back.

As we separated, Eric waited with Jason beside him. Connor was there, too. I hadn’t expected Connor to come, but seeing him there, solid and steady, made something inside me relax.

“What are you doing here?” I asked him.

“I thought I could help,” he murmured, unsure. In a moment of madness, I grabbed his hand and tugged him toward Mom.

“Mum, you know Connor,” I said, my voice rough with emotion, thinking of my dad’s words.

“Hello, Connor,” she said with a smile.

“He’s my…” I paused and glanced at him. The big idiot just smiled at me.

“Boyfriend. I’m his boyfriend.”

Bessie nodded, stepping forward to hug Connor. “It’s about time,” she whispered.

Connor smiled at her, returning the hug with one arm, the other hand resting on my back. It was a simple gesture, but it meant everything. Whatever came next, I knew we’d face it as a family, with Connor included, for as long as we were together.

Maybe forever.

Who knew.

We stood there for a long time, all of us, wrapped in the warmth of each other’s presence. It wasn’t going to be easy, and the road ahead was full of uncertainty. But for now, we had an idea of what happened next. And that had to be enough.

Chapter Twenty-One

CONNOR

Neil was with his mom and Bessie, and he said he’d be okay with them alone. They had things to talk about and final decisions to be made. When he left my side, he kissed me and held onto me for the longest time, and I didn’t know what to do.

“I’ll meet you back at the house,” he said as he climbed into the SUV.

I wanted to stand, watch him go, and maybe wave at him, but I wasn’t a teenager. Instead, I did the grown-up thing and walked around the corner to peek at him from where he couldn’t see me. I only felt happy when his car turned onto Main, and then I was lost for what to do next.

My phone buzzed, and it was Quinn. He was the distraction I needed, and we agreed to meet at the diner. He said he had an idea he wanted to run by me, and anything that used up my brain power was a good thing.

“I’ve been thinking,” Quinn began as soon as he sat down. He was interrupted when Merle came over with menus and coffee. “French toast, bacon, syrup, more coffee,” Quinn said without looking at the menu and with the broadest grin.

“Same,” I said for ease, not having the brain capacity to consider food choices. When Merle left, I doctored my coffee with cream and waited for more from Quinn.

“Yeah, so I had this idea.”

“I’m listening.”

Quinn had always been the type to think big—bigger than most—and his latest idea would probably be no exception.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about Max—last week was his birthday. And about your cousin Natalie, it got me imagining what they would have done if they’d gotten out, but unlike Rachel, they didn’t have family they could go home to. Then I was doing some research, and there is a network of safe houses for them, but it’s underfunded and a broken system, and there’s nowhere for people who slipped through the cracks, who don’t have anywhere else to turn.”

He stopped when Merle delivered napkins and silverware, and they talked a bit about the weather before Merle headed over to another booth.

“Anyway, so I started scribbling some ideas for a safe place on Lennox land—creating a fully secure home, or yurts or something, with access to medical care in Whisper Ridge, maybe job training, therapy, grants … everything they need to get back on their feet. Somewhere to escape to.”

I rubbed my chin, considering Quinn's proposal. His passion for philanthropy wasn’t new, but this was different. It was personal to him and me, and it was needed. “Sounds like a big undertaking,” I said because he needed me to be the voice of reason.

“It will be. And that’s why I need you, Connor, as co-founder, as manager, and all-around good guy. You’re the best person I know, and I want to work on this together. As a team, not me as your boss, it would be your project, and I’d fund it, and you’d be the one helping people to get out.” He shifted in his seat. “I mean, sometimes they can’t get away, you’d need to … y’know, do your SEAL stuff to get them out.”

“I could do that.”

“So, what do you say?”

I must have paused too long trying to find the right words to say ‘hell, yes’, because he became flustered. “God, have you already got life plans to leave or something? Have I overstepped?”

I shook my head. “No, you haven’t.” The idea struck a chord with me. After all, helping people like Natalie out of the cults they’d been suckered into would be a cause close to my heart. Quinn’s plan wasn’t just about donating money—it was necessary and potentially life-saving. I found myself nodding before I even spoke. This could be something real for me.

“Tell me more.”

We spent the next half hour, until he had to leave for a meeting with his lawyer, hashing out preliminary ideas. Quinn’s vision was muddied with too much information, and I couldn’t make sense of the big picture yet. We’d need a lot more talking because who would get these young adults out of the cults? Would we expect them to make their way to us? Or was my background going to help with that? Or my connection to my former teammate’s security company? For the first time in a long time, I felt a fire rekindling inside me, fueled by the prospect of helping, protecting, and finding those who needed me.

When Quinn left, I sipped coffee, wondering how Neil’s meeting was going. I wanted to tell him what Quinn had come up with.

That a future path was opening before me, and I might have a real reason to stay in Whisper Ridge and make a home with him.

Jesus, where did that thought come from?

I needed to talk to Neil.

I will.

One day.

Soon.

Neil was quiet when he returned from being with his family, which was understandable. He was content to curl up against my side on the couch as we watched a British baking show. Now and then, I’d toss out a remark about the contestants’ choice of frosting or the unlikely flavors they were attempting, but none of it pulled a smile from him.

On the screen, the contestants were in the throes of the showstopper challenge, and the theme was pastry sculptures meant to resemble family pets. Yep, pets out of pastry.

“I can’t believe Gerry is trying to make his cat out of the choux pastry,” I commented, a laugh bubbling up as the camera zoomed in on a lopsided pastry that resembled a feline—if you squinted. “That looks more like a pile of god knows what, not their beloved Whiskers.” I laughed as Gerry frantically piped more cream, his hands shaking. “He’s going to need nine lives to get through the judges’ critique on that one.”

Neil finally chuckled, the sound warm in the quiet of the living room—it was such a nice sound. Better than nice. Perfect.

I have it bad.

“Hey, at least he’s ambitious,” I said. “What about Linda? Her ten-layer poodle looks like it got mixed up with a mop.” The poodle-pastry’s head drooped to one side, eliciting a gasp from Linda and a zoom from the camera. “Well, there it goes, the leaning tower of Poodle,” I quipped. “Do you think the judges will throw it a bone for effort, or is it going to the doghouse?”

“Definitely the doghouse,” Neil murmured, and I kissed his cheek.

“You’ve got to admire the effort,” I replied, my gaze drifting back to the screen as the judges began their rounds.

“If we ever get a dog, remind me to hide the baking supplies,” Neil murmured, and warmth filled me. A dog. Our dog.

As the evening wound down and a yawn escaped Neil, stretching his weariness across his face, I nudged him. “Time for bed, huh?” I suggested, standing and extending my hand towards him. He took it, allowing me to hug him close. Neil’s breathing was ragged as he buried his face into the crook of my neck, and I thought I felt a sob, a soft cry that I took and held close as I encouraged him into the bedroom.

The warmth of the small house enveloped us when we moved toward the most comfortable bed in the world. As we settled under the covers, Neil was tense as he buried his face against me again.

“Tell me about your dad,” I whispered into the darkness, feeling Neil stiffen at the question.

He was quiet for a long time. “He was always a good dad when we needed him, strict and sometimes too hard, but mostly fair. He wasn’t always there, but then he covered a lot of territory before Collier Springs got their own office. He and mom were a unit… shit… are a unit.”

“I get it,” I reassured him.

“He wasn’t good when I came out. Took it badly. He’d seen some stuff and assumed it wouldn’t be easy for me.” Neil’s words trailed off when he was lost in the bad memories. “I always wanted to be a sheriff and follow in his footsteps. He thought that would never happen for me if I was out as gay.”

Listening, I tightened my hold on him, stroking his back in soothing circles. “But you proved him wrong,” I murmured, pride swelling in my chest for the man Neil had become.

“Yeah, I did,” he replied, a note of defiance threading through his fatigue. “My dad was a strong, confident man. A good dad, really, just … not at that moment. I miss him already.” I felt his chest rise and fall with a deep breath, the prelude to shared confidence. “When I was eight,” he began, his voice a gentle thread in the stillness, “my dad did this thing.”

My curiosity piqued, and I tightened my embrace, encouraging him to continue. “What?”

Neil’s smile was audible in his voice. “It was my eighth birthday, and I was completely obsessed with space—all the stars, planets, the whole universe. And my dad brought an astronomer from the local college to our house, with a real telescope and everything.”

“Seriously? That’s amazing,” I responded, impressed.

“It was,” he confirmed, his tone wistful. “We set up in the backyard as dusk turned to evening. Looking through that telescope for the first time, I saw the moon’s craters, Jupiter and its moons, and even Saturn’s rings. It was like the universe just opened up for me.”

I could almost see the awe on young Neil’s face, his world expanding beyond the confines of their small town. “What did your dad say about that?” I asked, my voice low in the quiet room.

“He didn’t say much then. He just stood by my side and watched. He told me later that seeing the excitement on my face was more thrilling than anything the telescope could show him.” Neil’s voice softened, filled with a fondness that seemed to smooth out the edges of his usual reserve.

“He sounds proud of you,” I murmured.

“He was. No, he is. He’s still in there, and I know he’s proud.” He paused for a moment. “That night, he wasn’t just the tough sheriff or the disciplinarian—he was just Dad.” Neil’s breath was steady, and his body relaxed against mine as if the memory lent him peace.

The silence that followed was filled with our soft breathing, the night wrapping around us like a blanket. I thought about Garrett Windham, who I would never really know as the man he used to be, the indomitable force of a man who had shaped Neil for better or worse. It was a complex legacy, one Neil navigated with the grace and strength he’d inherited.

Neil’s breathing evened out, the tension easing from his body.

“It’s going to be okay,” I whispered into the darkness, unsure if I was comforting Neil or reassuring myself.

He shifted, his hand finding mine under the covers, squeezing it gently. “Yeah, it will be,” he whispered back, and at that moment, I believed it. Everything felt possible in this small, peaceful house with Neil by my side.

“Quinn talked to me today,” I began, and Neil let out a soft hum to let me know he was listening. “He’s thinking of working to set up a safe place for people caught up in cults. Maybe on Lennox Ranch, or maybe not, I don’t know.” There would be implications for the town if that was what was going to happen, and I was probably overstepping if Quinn hadn’t yet talked to the town representatives, Neil included.

“Sounds good,” Neil murmured, tired.

“Wants me to work with him.”

“Yeah?”

“Use my skills to help people get out.”

“Cool.”

I wasn’t sure Neil was listening, and I stroked his back. “It would mean hanging around here for a home base. Annoying you. Getting in your way. Y’know, the usual.”

“I could probably handle that.”

That was the best endorsement I was going to get for now.

Chapter Twenty-Two

NEIL

I woke to the insistent buzzing of my phone on the nightstand, the sound pulling me from the heavy, dreamless sleep I’d fallen into. The room was dim, the curtains drawn tight against the morning light, and I couldn’t remember where I was for a moment. Then I felt the warmth beneath me, Connor’s solid, comforting presence, and everything came rushing back.

I’d been wrapped around him, our legs tangled together, my arm draped over his chest. The heat from his body had lulled me into a deeper sleep than I’d had in years. I extricated myself, careful not to wake him. As I sat up, the sheet slid down my body, exposing my skin to the cool air, a stark contrast to the warmth of the bed.

My phone buzzed again, and I grabbed it, squinting at the screen—nearly eight in the morning. Jesus, I’d never slept this late in my life. That was what staying up late ‘talking’ did for me.

I swiped to answer, my voice still rough from sleep. “Sheriff Windham.”

On the other end, someone was speaking, but my mind was still half-focused on the man lying next to me. I glanced back at Connor, his face relaxed, his short hair tousled against the pillow. The sight made my chest tighten in a way I wasn’t prepared for.

The voice on the other end of the line continued, pulling me back to the present. I shook off the lingering haze of sleep and tried to focus. Whatever this was, it was time to get back to reality, even if a part of me wanted to stay in that bed, wrapped up with Connor for a bit longer.

“Sheriff? Are you there?” the voice said, and I realized I had the ME on the line.

“Sorry, yes, here. Go ahead.”

“Good news or bad news,” Xavier started his usual spiel, and I wondered when they’d invent phones where you could reach through and strangle people. If ever there was a moment, it was now.

“Bad news,” I replied, bracing myself for the worst.

“The bones are from at least two separate sets of remains,” he said. I could almost hear him taking a deep breath on the other end. “The oldest burial is likely from the Arapaho tribe, dating back centuries.”

My mind reeled. “Centuries?”

“Yes, so, the good news is, you don’t have a murder on your hands where those bones are concerned,” he continued. “I’ve contacted the Northern Arapaho Tribe and the Wyoming State Historic Preservation Office. They’ll handle the reburial process.”

“Wait, slow down,” I said, rubbing my temples. “You’re telling me we’ve got ancient remains, and they belong to the Arapaho?”

“That’s right,” Xavier confirmed. “It’s not uncommon to find such burials in this region, especially with the history of the tribes in Wyoming. This significantly changes the scope of your investigation with just the one set of remains causing concern.”

I took a deep breath, trying to wrap my head around this new development. “But the other skeleton is⁠—”

“Female,” Xavier confirmed, his voice steady on the other end of the line. “After nearly thirty years down a well, getting an ID is challenging, but it’s not impossible. We’ll start with the basics—osteological analysis. The bones can tell us a lot more than you’d think. We can confirm her sex, estimate her age at death, and maybe even get an idea of her ancestry.”

I nodded, even though he couldn’t see me. “Okay, so we know she’s female, but what about identifying her? Is there any hope of getting DNA after all this time?”

“There’s a chance,” Xavier replied, his tone thoughtful. “DNA can be tricky after so long, especially in a wet environment like a well, but we might still be able to extract some, particularly from her teeth or the denser parts of her bones. If we get a DNA profile, we can compare it against missing person databases or, if we get lucky, with any living relatives.”

“That’s assuming we have someone to compare it to,” I said, feeling the frustration building. “What if we can’t get any DNA?”

“Then we look at other options,” Xavier continued, unfazed. “Dental records are a big one where we can examine them for any dental work or unique patterns. Those could match with existing records. Teeth are also a good source of DNA, so we’ll focus on them heavily. Then there’s the chemical composition of her bones and teeth, which can give us clues about where she lived, what she ate, and other details that might narrow down her identity. It’s not as specific as a DNA match, but it’s something. But do you want the good news?”

I thought the fact he’d discounted one set of bones was good news, but I could always use more. “Please.”

“Well, here is where I hand you to Tally.”

Tally didn’t waste a second and didn’t ask if I wanted good or bad news. “Neil, we have a name connected to the luggage, which could be a potential first ID on the remains. We have a library card and old passport wrapped in a purse, other things that belonged to her, personal possessions, and many more photos, some of which we might salvage. I will keep digging—literally and figuratively—but the name we have on the ID is … Rebecca Lennox. Does that name mean anything to you?”

“Rebecca Lennox?” My heart skipped a beat. Micah and Rachel’s mom? What? Why? My thoughts were racing. Rebecca Lennox died years ago. Cancer, if I recall correctly. So, what was her luggage doing in the well? Were those her remains? None of that made sense. “The Lennox family is local,” I finished lamely and turned to face Connor, who was awake, his eyes wide as he listened. “They own the land where the remains were found.”

So much for confidential information. I should have taken the call elsewhere.

“Okay, getting DNA from a surviving relative for a potential match would be useful, even if we are just ruling Rebecca out. For all we know, this could be some other poor soul,” Tally explained. “As standard, we’ll run any DNA we find results for against the Combined DNA Index System.”

Connor waved his hand.

“Hang on,” I told Tally, then covered the phone.

“CODIS will have DNA in the system for Rebecca’s son, Micah, from his time in the prison system,” Connor said.

Of course. I repeated the information to Tally.

“Good to know,” she said.

“Let me know if you need anything else.”

“I will.”

“Thanks, Tally. I appreciate it.”

A connection to the Lennox family and the ranch? They’d need to be told, and maybe they could shed some light on what had happened to Rebecca. My mom would know as well, and Dad if he was lucid. The implications were staggering that a woman who had died of cancer had ended up in a well. None of that made sense.

“Micah and Rachel’s mom?” Connor said from behind me.

I placed my cell on the nightstand and turned to sit cross-legged, looking down at him sprawled in my bed. “How much did you hear?” Only the end part, maybe?

He winced. “All of it. Body, female, ID Rebecca Lennox. I can’t help if I have good hearing.”

I sighed because I didn’t want him to have heard all of that. I didn’t want him to interfere or get protective of the family that had taken him to their hearts. I didn’t want to leave the bed. I wanted to go back to the last orgasm. Or hell, maybe before it, so I could experience it all over again.

“Is Rebecca Lennox in your files?”

“What files?” Connor blinked at me as if butter wouldn’t melt.

“The files I know for sure you have on every single person and their family who might, in one way or another, come in contact with Quinn?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Oh, those files.”

“Yes, those files.”

He tugged at me until I fell onto him, carding his fingers through my hair and kissing the tip of my nose. “Shower, teeth, coffee, and then we’ll look at what I have. Yeah?”

I let myself lie in his arms for a few more minutes, sliding down a little so I could press my ear to his chest, lulled into peace by the steady thump of his heartbeat.

I really didn’t want to get up.

We walked into the diner, the smell of fresh coffee and bacon wrapping around us like a warm blanket. Noah greeted us with a smile, handing over two steaming cups of coffee as if everything were normal. As if I wasn’t scrambling inside, trying to piece together how someone from my town might have ended up in that well on the Lennox Ranch, along with a suitcase full of memories. The bones could belong to someone else, sure, but my gut was telling me otherwise, and I’d learned long ago to trust that feeling.

Connor and I exchanged the usual small talk with Noah, acting as if it were just another morning, even though my mind was a whirlwind of questions and half-formed theories. Noah handed us a basket of baked goods, still warm from the oven, and a bowl of crispy bacon—Connor’s weakness.

As we headed upstairs to the apartment above the diner, juggling coffee, baked goods, and bacon, I couldn’t help but tease him a little. “I’m surprised you’re not the size of a house living this close to Noah’s cooking.”

Connor grinned, his eyes twinkling with that mischievous glint I’d come to expect. “It’s all about balance, Sheriff. A little indulgence here, a lot of cardio there.”

We laughed, but as soon as we stepped inside his apartment, the mood shifted. Connor set the food on the kitchen counter, then grew serious, walking over to a door I hadn’t noticed before. He pushed it open, revealing a room with a desk against the far side, a laptop perched on top, flanked by two printers. Several pinboards were stacked against the opposite wall, covered in maps, notes, and photos, all meticulously organized. The air in the room was still, the kind of stillness that made you think twice about disturbing it.

Connor walked over to the window, cracking it open to let in some fresh air, but he shut it as quickly when a blast of wintery wind rushed in, making the curtains billow. “Winter’s happening way too fast,” he commented, frowning.

“Hashtag Wyoming,” I deadpanned.

Then he turned back to me, all traces of humor gone. “Let me show you what I’ve got on the town.”

I followed him to the desk, my heart pounding with a mix of curiosity and dread. What had he been working on here? What did he know that I didn’t? He dragged in a chair from outside and placed it next to the office chair. Then, he switched on the laptop, going through a series of security levels at such speed that it was a blur.

As he started pulling up files on the laptop, I took the seat he’d placed next to his. He had folders of files on the screen, names I recognized, and everything on the town I thought I knew inside and out.

Connor opened a file on his laptop, the screen's glow casting a pale light across his face. “Okay,” he said, his tone all business. “Micah Lennox.” But before he double-clicked to open it, he turned to me, his eyes searching mine.

“Micah said he talked to you,” Connor added, his voice measured.

I kept my expression neutral, not giving anything away. I knew where this was heading, but I wasn’t ready to lay all my cards on the table yet.

Connor waited a beat, then continued, “About his part in the death of Callum Prince at the Brothers of Chiron compound.”

“He didn’t have a part,” I shot back, maybe a little too quickly. “Whatever happened, he and his sister are safe in Whisper Ridge. They’re family. Okay?”

Connor didn’t flinch, but I saw the gears turning in his head. He’d already decided about something, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what it was. “There was a gun in the well,” he said. “The gun used to kill Callum Prince.”

My heart sank, a lead weight in my chest dragging me down. I’d made my peace with whatever Micah had done to get his pregnant sister and his nephew away from that hellhole—the awful end that everyone else had met there. But this? A smoking gun?

I remembered my dad’s words, echoing in my mind like they always did when I was faced with an impossible choice: To police a town, you had to know a town. And I knew Micah. I knew Rachel and the kids. They’d fought hard for their new life, and I’d sworn that the ghosts of the past wouldn’t touch them again.

But a gun in the well was something I couldn’t ignore, no matter how much I wanted to. If we had to excavate the site around the well, if we couldn’t find the answers we needed without digging deeper—what would we uncover? How far would I go to protect someone who was my responsibility?

Connor was watching me, his gaze steady, waiting for my response. He was giving me a chance to come clean, to say something that might ease the weight pressing down on my chest. But what could I say? That I knew what Micah had done? That I’d looked the other way because I understood why he did it? Or maybe that I suspected he was covering for his sister—that she’d been the one who’d killed Callum?

I knew whoever had done it had killed him in self-defense.

“Connor,” I started, but the words stuck in my throat. I didn’t know how to finish that sentence.

“Sometimes, doing the right thing isn’t so clear-cut,” he murmured. “Sometimes, the lines are blurred, and we have to make a choice we can live with, even if it isn’t by the book.”

“I know.”

He didn’t push. He waited, letting the silence fill the room. The only sound was the laptop’s low hum, and the file was still unopened on the screen.

After a pause, I sighed, rubbing a hand over my face. “If we have to dig around that well, if this leads somewhere, we don’t want it to…”

Connor gripped my hand and laced our fingers. “I need to know how far you’re willing to go with this, Neil. Because I’m telling you now, Micah and his family are under my protection. And I’ll do what it takes to keep them safe.”

I didn’t hesitate. “I know,” I said.

“Then let’s figure out the next steps together.”

The weight in my chest eased a little. We weren’t at the end yet, not by a long shot. But at least I wasn’t facing whatever this shit show was alone. And maybe, just maybe, that would be enough to get us through whatever was coming next.

He tugged me closer, our hands still entwined, and then he cradled my face and kissed me before easing back. I chased for another kiss because I could forget everything else when we did that, but he’d already moved to face the screen and had his mouse poised to click.

“Okay?” he asked.

“Okay.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

CONNOR

The kiss was everything I wanted to say to Neil, everything I couldn’t put into words. It was more than a physical connection; it was a promise. A promise that I had his back, as much as I did the rest of this town. It was an unspoken acknowledgment that I understood him and saw the weight he carried every day as sheriff and respected him even more for it. Neil policed his community with care, always putting others before himself, and I’d caught feelings for him because of that—deep, undeniable feelings.

Maybe in the time I’d been in Whisper Ridge, I’d admired him more than I wanted to admit. I’d wanted him, needed him, and now that I had him, I couldn’t imagine life without him. Was that love? It sure felt like it. But if there were any chance that he’d get into trouble for anything, I would take the fall without hesitation. He might look after his town, but I was looking after him.

He just didn’t know it yet.

After the kiss, I returned to the task at hand, pushing down the emotions swirling inside me. I double-clicked the icon for Micah, and the folder opened, revealing twenty files. I opened them all, and they cascaded across the large screen, spilling their secrets for us to dissect. Then, with a flick of a switch, I transferred the display to the board by the door—something that at first glance seemed like a simple whiteboard but was anything but.

I pointed at the board, watching Neil’s eyes widen as the files rearranged into neat squares for us to examine. I magnified the first file in the center, bringing it into sharp focus. It was Micah’s intake form, along with files from Sheriff Windham, Neil’s father who’d been sheriff at the time, documenting the accident that had killed Micah’s friend, Isaac, and injured Chris Sheridan.

“This is the surface information.” I let the words hang in the air. “The black and white details of the arrest and his prison term.”

Neil stepped closer to the board, his gaze locked on the documents. I could see the gears turning in his mind, the connections forming as he processed the information. His expression told me he was remembering, piecing together the fragments of a past that had been buried for too long.

“I was good friends with Daniel,” Neil murmured. “We even…” He shot me a glance, and I filled in the blanks and felt irrationally envious of someone who’d been in Neil’s life so long. “I saw what it did to him to have Micah borrow that car, for Chris to be hurt, for Isaac to die. But I also saw Daniel when Micah came home, when they fell back in love, when Daniel forgave him, and Micah forgave himself, and I made peace with all of that.”

I flicked up the next document—a sketched family tree, where I’d focused more on Micah and Rachel and the kids than I had done Micah’s parents, but they were there in the name.

“Edward and Rebecca Lennox,” I said and clicked on the link for Rebecca, which gave nothing more than a brief date of birth, death, and cause of death—breast cancer.

Neil was focused, ready for whatever I was about to throw at him, but I could see the tension in his eyes, and I hoped I wasn’t about to dig too deep and let all the worms out.

“Sheriff Windham Senior was called on several occasions to the Lennox Ranch regarding accusations of domestic abuse,” I began, keeping my voice steady. “Hitting his wife Rebecca and the kids, I think. At least, Micah. Rachel isn’t mentioned in the reports.”

Neil frowned, “Dad always said Edward Lennox was a bastard, and the whole town knew he was an abusive son of a bitch. Rebecca would never press charges, and Micah was so closed off as a kid, and then Rebecca was diagnosed with cancer. Then it was the accident with Micah and the others. I was away at college for most of that, then had a job in Montana for a few years. I missed most of what happened.”

“So, what we have is second-hand confirmation, more like local gossip and knowledge, of Rebecca Lennox dying when Micah was ten and Rachel was nine. I didn’t think it was crucial at the time to have medical records or a death certificate of someone no longer with us.”

Suspicion crept into Neil’s expression. “How did you get any of these files?”

I ignored the question, continuing instead. “Okay. So, Edward Lennox died when Micah, aged twenty, was in prison. Edward slit his wrists but messed it up and shot himself in the head. I don’t have crime scene photos, but I can get them.”

“I have them,” Neil said. “It wasn’t pretty—Amy found him. That’s his sister, Amy Reynolds nee Lennox, married to Jeff Reynolds, and they took care of Lennox Ranch when Micah and Rachel didn’t return. Not sure where they lived when Edward and Rebecca were still alive, but they lived at the ranch until Rachel and Micah came back, and now they live in Collier Springs. If Tally and Xavier are correct and this is Rebecca Lennox, we’ll need to visit.”

I ran a search on the data I had. “They lived in town. Jeff worked on the ranch, and Amy was a housekeeper there.”

Neil ran a hand through his hair, frustration etched on his face. “Why is it possible for Rebecca to be in the well when she was diagnosed, died, and, I assume, was buried in the cemetery here?”

I quickly searched while he watched: “No grave is listed for Rebecca Lennox in Whisper Ridge cemetery.”

“How can that be possible?” He frowned again.

“Maybe it was an offsite cremation or … I mean, there are reasons why people don’t get buried on church land with a stone.”

“Yeah, I get that.”

We needed to dig deeper into Rebecca’s cancer, death, and burial. Maybe there was an innocent explanation for this. “I need to make a call,” I said, pulling out my phone. I could feel Neil’s eyes on me as I dialed and switched to speakerphone while waiting for Carter to answer. A technical wizard with everything information, he worked with Oberon and Trick’s security company, a former black-hat hacker who owed me one last favor.

“Carter,” I said when the line connected. There was no need for pleasantries. “Rachel Lennox and Edward Lennox, both deceased, Whisper Ridge, Wyoming. Any medical records and anything else you can find.”

“Hello Carter, how are you, Carter? Why, I’m fine, Connor. How are you?” Carter deadpanned, but I didn’t have time.

“Can you help?”

There was a pause, and I could imagine Carter grinding his teeth at the other end. “Deep dives like this aren’t my gig now. I’m legit.” He was lying—he still did stuff that would make my sheriff step in and arrest him if he knew.

“I know,” I replied. “But you owe me, Carter.”

He sighed. “Fine. I’ll see what I can dig up.”

“Thanks,” I said, keeping it short. “And Carter? Make it fast.”

I ended the call, slipping my phone back into my pocket. Neil was watching me, his expression unreadable.

“Who’s Carter?” he asked, his voice hinting at territorial.

“This kid I helped out once,” I explained. “He works with a SEAL buddy of mine, but he’s done some shady stuff for me in the past.”

Neil’s gaze sharpened. “How shady? Illegal?”

“Some,” I admitted, meeting his eyes without flinching. “But I’m not giving you his name, so you have plausible deniability.”

Neil held my gaze for a long moment, then nodded. “I wasn’t asking.”

I leaned back in my chair, feeling the tension ease. We both knew there were lines I danced around in my post-SEAL career, but Neil was willing to let this one slide for now. And for that, I was grateful. We were in this together, even if it meant bending the rules to get the answers.

We reviewed a great deal of other information on the Lennox family, piecing together fragments of their history and trying to understand how it all connected to the present. But nothing could prepare us for what came next—the crime scene photos from the Brothers of Chiron compound. As soon as the first image flickered onto the screen, a cold dread settled over me, sinking into my bones.

“My cousin was one of the people in these photos. She never got out.”

“I know.” He rested a hand on my leg and curled his fingers there, and I took his hand. “I’m sorry.”

I didn’t have the words to say anything anywhere near useful.

The photos were a stark reminder of the horrors that had unfolded there, the images that would haunt anyone who saw them. Bodies were strewn across a dirt yard, limbs twisted at unnatural angles, eyes staring into nothing. The main building, or what was left of it, had been gutted by fire, and its destroyed remains collapsed as if the structure had given up under the weight of what it had witnessed.

Some of the bodies were burned beyond recognition, charred husks of what had once been people now reduced to blackened bones. Others bore the unmistakable marks of bullet wounds, dark stains spreading across their tattered clothing, the final testament to the violence that had erupted in that hellish place. But what hit the hardest—what made my stomach churn, and my hands clench into fists—were the smaller bodies, kids caught in the crossfire of something they should never have been a part of and who hadn’t stood a chance.

It was the kind of end-of-days shit you read about in history books, the kind of tragedy that stuck with you long after you’d closed the file and walked away. I shut them down—we didn’t need to see them for anything other than to understand Micah and the motives for the murder and the gun.

But the gun hadn’t turned up.

Yet.

I suddenly felt an urge for complete honesty, and although I was betraying a confidence, somehow, it seemed right to trust Neil.

“So,” I said, leaning back in my chair, trying to keep my voice steady. “There’s something else I need to tell you. Off the record.”

His gaze snapped to mine, concern etched on his face. “Something worse than a body in a well?”

I took a deep breath, trying to figure out the best way to say it. “It’s about the night of the storm and the landslide at the ranch.”

Neil frowned. “What about it?”

“First off, I want to say sorry.”

“Hmm,” was all Neil gave me, his hands gripping his pen so tightly that his knuckles turned white. “Are you, though?”

“I was looking for the gun.”

“That was why you jumped down there like a freaking idiot?”

“Yes.”

He shook his head. “The walls of the cave-in collapsed—we’d need excavators to unearth anything.”

“Yes.”

Neil let out a long breath, his eyes searching mine. “We won’t go digging,” he assured me. “Whatever’s down there… it’s buried under a ton of rubble now, and there’s a good chance it’s long gone anyway.”

“Okay.”

“Forensics are lost. The murders were dealt with by authorities higher than me. No sense in kicking over a hornet’s nest.” He paused for a moment and laced our fingers. “I wish that Micah felt like he could tell me,” he murmured, more to himself than to me, and I could see the conflict in his eyes. “He’s a good man, and I hate the thought of him carrying that alone for so long.”

It didn’t faze me that Neil knew it was Micah, and hell, who else would need to throw a gun down a well? This was a small-town sheriff crossing a line because he knew the people of Whisper Ridge—he knew their hearts, and I loved him for it.

Love?

I did love him, but I wouldn’t tell him yet. Not in the middle of this latest of my mess-ups.

“I promised Micah I would fix it.”

He rolled his eyes and huffed. “Of course you did.”

“Do I need to fix anything?”

He met my steady gaze. “I know Micah was protecting someone else… Look… I want you to forget this. I want Micah to forget this. Okay?”

“Okay.”

The phone buzzed on the desk, and I put it on speaker. Carter didn’t waste time with pleasantries.

“I’ve sent you the files,” he said, his voice flat and business-like. “But I scanned the medical records I have, and … yeah, Rebecca Lennox, forty-three, was diagnosed with stage four breast cancer. She was told it wasn’t something they could fix, unfortunately. Still, she had options for treatments, but here’s the thing—she never received any. She never even went back to the hospital where she was diagnosed for her follow-up appointment.”

I frowned, processing what he was saying. “Never went back. No treatment at all?”

“Nothing,” Carter confirmed. “It’s like she just … disappeared from the system. No further records, no nothing.”

A cold feeling settled in my gut.

“What about Edward?” I asked, already knowing the answer wouldn’t be any better.

“Edward?” Carter hesitated for a moment before continuing. “I couldn’t find much. There is no medical history to speak of other than the coroner’s report on his suicide. As far as I can tell, a clean bill of health before that.”

“Did you find any burial records for Rebecca?”

Carter didn’t hesitate, his voice coming through the line with that mix of urgency and frustration I knew all too well.

“I meant it, Connor. There’s no trace of her,” he said, cutting straight to the heart of it. “No benefits, social security records, or even a death certificate. It’s like Rebecca Lennox just vanished into thin air after her diagnosis.”

I felt a chill run down my spine, trying to process what he told me. “No death certificate? Nothing?”

“Nothing,” Carter repeated, his tone flat. “And here’s the thing, Connor—this isn’t just unusual, it’s impossible. In the U.S., if someone dies, it has to be reported. There should be a death certificate, hospital records, or something.”

I stared at Neil, letting the information sink in, and he stared right back. Rebecca Lennox had been given a death sentence, and then she’d vanished as if she’d never existed. Edward’s life had ended in suicide. No one searched for Rebecca, and no one questioned it. So many questions. What about inheritance? What about wills? What about … everything?

“Thanks, Carter,” I finally said. “I owe you one.”

“You owe me a hell of a lot more than one,” Carter replied, though his tone had no malice—just the usual dry humor. “But you know I’ll hold you to it. Take care, Connor, and Oberon says he expects you at a Team reunion dinner.”

“Yeah, yeah.” I laughed it off, but none of us had organized reunions yet, and I wasn’t planning on it in the future. Messaging the group was okay—easy and safe. Meeting up with them would break my heart when only the three of us were left.

I ended the call and stared at the phone for a long moment, the weight of the information pressing down on me.

“Okay,” Neil began with caution. “Rebecca is diagnosed and then disappears from the system. We need to talk to the people who know her—Amy, Jeff, and my mom. I’d ask my dad, but maybe I'd get more if I go through his old work records.” He sighed. “Worse, we need to talk to Micah and Rachel.”

“You want me to do that?” I asked with care. I didn’t want to tread on any toes, but I also didn’t want to bring the law to Micah’s door about anything in the past.

But Neil shook his head. “Together.”

“You want to start with them?” I was giving Neil the control here—he was right, he did know this town. He regarded me thoughtfully and shook his head.

“I want to head out to talk to Amy and Jeff, the aunt and uncle. I want to know what they knew before we take this to the Lennox siblings.”

“One-two-nine Cottonwood Drive,” I confirmed, and he rolled his eyes at me. “You wanna take my car instead of rolling up in the sheriff-mobile?”

Yep, that earned me another eye roll, but it was my car we took for the twenty-minute drive.

Neil couldn’t help himself, poking around in my SUV like it was some treasure trove. I watched his fingers hover over the extra buttons and switches, and it was obvious he was itching to press something. His gaze fell on the glove box, and he noticed the fingerprint scanner before I could stop him.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“Don’t touch that,” I gasped theatrically.

Neil snatched his hand back, narrowing his eyes at me. “Why?”

I deadpanned, not missing a beat, “Missiles.”

He froze, his eyes widening before I snorted, unable to keep a straight face. The confusion and panic on his face were priceless. I loved making him squirm.

He shot me a glare as I laughed, shaking his head. “Asshole,” he muttered, but there was a hint of a smile there, too.

We ended up in Collier Springs on Cottonwood Drive, pulling up in front of a small, neat house that looked as though it had been plucked straight from a postcard. The lawn was trimmed, the flowerbeds were well-kept, and the white paint on the siding was fresh, not a flake or chip in sight. It was one of many similar houses on the road, all tidy, all quiet, as if they were hiding some deep secret behind their perfect facades.

We walked up to the door, our boots crunching on the gravel path. I noticed the curtains twitch before the door opened. Amy stood there, short and plump, her face creased with worry as soon as she saw Neil. She wasn’t smiling, not that I expected her to. Something about her demeanor told me she knew this wasn’t a social visit.

“Sheriff Windham? Can I help you?” she asked, her voice cautious.

“Can we come in?” Neil asked, his tone professional but gentle.

She hesitated for just a moment before nodding. “Both of you?”

“Please.”

“I suppose so.”

“Connor Mason,” I introduced myself.

“I know who you are,” she sniffed. “Came to town with Quinn.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She wrinkled her nose, which summed up her feelings for me.

As we stepped inside, Neil asked, “Is Jeff here?”

Amy nodded, glancing toward the back of the house. “I’ll call him. He’s in the yard.”

She disappeared, leaving us in the small, neat living room. Everything was in its place, not a speck of dust to be found. The kind of place that was lived-in but kept under tight control. Photos of Rachel’s kids were lined up on a shelf alongside plates and mugs, but there was no sign of a photo of Micah, and I recalled talking to people in town who spoke about the rift in the Lennox family.

I should have pushed for more back then.

A moment later, Jeff walked in, tall and stern, his expression unreadable as he shook hands with Neil. His grip was firm, the kind of handshake that said he wasn’t a man to be messed with.

Amy hovered by the door, wringing her hands. “What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly.

Neil didn’t waste any time. “We want to talk to you about Rebecca Lennox.”

Amy’s face went pale, and she collapsed into the nearest chair as if her legs had given out. She and Jeff exchanged a long, loaded look. Resignation settled over them. Was it a silent acknowledgment that a conversation had been coming?

Jeff sighed, his shoulders slumping. “Let’s all get coffee and take this to the kitchen,” he said, tired and sad.

We followed them into the kitchen, a small space that felt cozy despite its size. The large table in the center dominated the room as if it were the heart of the house, and the kitchen smelled of coffee and something sweet, although there was an underlying tension in the air that was impossible to ignore.

We all sat at the table; the silence heavy as Amy poured the coffee. Her hands shook slightly, and she kept her eyes down, not meeting mine or Neil’s.

“What do you want to know?” Jeff asked, breaking the silence.

I could tell this wasn’t going to be an easy conversation. This was the kind that dredged up old wounds and forgotten pain. But we were here now, and there was no turning back. I just hoped we were ready for whatever truths were about to be revealed.

Chapter Twenty-Four

NEIL

I leaned forward, my hands resting on the edge of the table, the warmth of the coffee mug seeping into my palms. “What can you tell us about Rebecca Lennox?”

Amy glanced at Jeff, and he gave her a slight nod. She took a deep breath, her voice quiet and tinged with sadness as she started. “Rebecca was quiet, kept to herself mostly. She loved her kids more than anything, and she loved reading. But she felt my brother’s anger too often. It was a miracle she kept her family together as long as she did.”

I could feel the unspoken pain behind her words. “When did you last see her?”

“Around Rachel’s ninth birthday,” Amy replied, her gaze distant as she recalled the memory. “Just after. Edward told us she’d been diagnosed with end-stage breast cancer. They weren’t telling the kids specifics, just that their mommy was ill. They were faced with impossible medical bills, but he found this place he was taking her to up in Canada, a wellness retreat where she could get treatment funded by a charity. He knew she wouldn’t live, but he just wanted to make her last few weeks good.”

She paused, and I could see the doubt in her eyes, the uncertainty she’d carried all these years. “He was worried about the money but said he had some compensation from a fall on the rodeo circuit way back. Said it would cover everything the charity couldn’t. He … he told us he loved her, right, Jeff?”

Jeff’s expression hardened, and his voice became gruff when he spoke. “‘Loved’ is a strong word. He coveted her. Controlled her. And the kids. But when he came back from Canada…” he huffed, and how he said Canada made me think he suspected they’d never gone there. “He told us she’d passed, and he became even more of an asshole. Especially to Micah, who did everything to protect his sister until he fucked up and ended up being sent to prison. Then, Rachel left for college, and it was just Edward… it was like he had nowhere to turn the hate, and he crumbled.”

Amy stared down at her hands, her voice trembling. “He wouldn’t let us in the house, and then he killed himself, and he had a photo of Rebecca in his hands when he died, covered in blood… he…” She leaned into her husband, who tucked her under his arm and gave me a warning glance.

The room was heavy with silence, the weight of their words hanging in the air. I let out a slow breath, trying to process everything they’d said. “So, Rebecca is buried somewhere in Canada?”

Amy and Jeff exchanged a look filled with regret and fear. “We don’t know,” Amy admitted. “He was a violent man, Neil. And when Micah killed that boy… it made him so much worse.”

I frowned, my gut telling me there was more to this story than what they said. Edward didn’t sound like a man who’d ever loved anyone, not the way his sister was trying to paint it. He sounded like an asshole to the core, and whatever love he claimed to have for Rebecca had been twisted and corrupted long before she’d disappeared from their lives.

“And you never pushed him on where your sister-in-law was buried?” I asked, trying to keep the skepticism out of my voice.

Jeff shook his head, his jaw clenched tight. “We tried. But every time we asked, he’d just get angry, tell us to mind our own damn business. We feared what he might do if we pushed too hard.”

Amy nodded, tears welling in her eyes.

I sat back, my mind racing with everything they’d told us. There were too many holes in this story and too many unanswered questions. And the more I thought about it, the more convinced I became that Rebecca Lennox’s story didn’t end in some wellness retreat in Canada. Edward Lennox had been hiding something, something dark, and it had left scars on everyone involved. It would have cost a fortune for Rebecca to have treatment, and was it Edward’s solution to kill her and dump her body in the well on Lennox land?

How was that even possible?

“Thank you for telling us this,” I said, my voice gentler now. “I know it’s not easy to talk about.”

“Sheriff?” Amy exclaimed and closed her eyes for a moment. “People back in Whisper Ridge are saying you found bones in the well on the ranch…” Tears coursed down her face. “Tell me it wasn’t Rebecca. Tell me she died in a soft place in a forest cabin looking over a lake. Please tell me I’m wrong...”

Jeff’s eyes were also bright, and he held his wife tighter.

“We don’t know enough to tell you anything,” I said. “I wish we did.”

We said our goodbyes, and although I sifted through the facts, I couldn’t see a good resolution to any of this.

We were nearly back into Whisper Ridge when Connor broke the silence. “You think Edward Lennox killed his wife to avoid paying for health care, then dumped her in the well?”

I wanted to tell him it was impossible and that something like that couldn’t have happened. But I couldn’t. Deep down, I knew better. So, in the end, I just nodded and said, “Yes.”

The weight of that single word hung between us as we pulled into town.

“I need to read my dad’s case notes,” I said, my voice rougher than I intended. “The ones in his old journals. Will you drop me at my parents’ place?”

“I’ll come with you,” Connor replied without hesitation.

We parked outside my parents’ house, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across the yard. When we entered, the house was quiet, only the clock ticking filling the silence. Mom was in the kitchen, and I kissed her on the cheek. She was scrubbing the pan so hard that her knuckles were white.

“Your dad’s asleep in the front room,” she murmured.

“How you doing mom?”

She paused for a moment, suds swirling in gray water. “I’m okay,” she lied, her voice hitching.

I exchanged a look with Connor, who stepped back and away into the hall to give us space. I took her hands and dried them on the towel, then pulled her close in a hug. After a moment of stiffness, she relaxed into my hold. We didn’t talk, but we hugged for a long time and every so often her shoulders shook in a soft sob.

“Look at me getting all emotional,” she said as she pulled away and resumed scrubbing. “Silly woman.”

“Mom—”

“Pans won’t clean themselves.”

“Mom—”

She stopped momentarily, gripping the sink, drawing a deep breath. “I’m okay, Neil. I’m okay.” Then she tipped her chin. “So, why are you here?”

“I wanted to check on something in Dad’s office. An old case.”

She waved at me and smiled. “Go on then, and no funny stuff with your man lurking in the hallway.” So, she had noticed Connor?

“No, ma’am,” I agreed, busing her cheek again. “Love you, Mom.”

“None of that,” she murmured, “you’ll make me cry.”

After giving her one final side hug, I rescued Connor from lurking in the hall and led him upstairs to the small office that had once been my dad’s sanctuary. The room was musty, filled with the scent of old paper and the faint aroma of my dad’s aftershave. I opened a drawer in the old wooden desk and pulled out a stack of leather-bound journals worn from years of use. These were my dad’s meticulous records, notes he’d kept over the years, long before I ever wore the badge.

I flipped through the pages until I found the time around Rebecca Lennox’s disappearance. My dad had written a couple of entries about her diagnosis, how he’d taken Edward from a bar in town after he’d gotten drunk and started spouting off about murder and suicide. But he’d never charged him. Just made a note about how Edward claimed his wife had died up in Canada. He’d scribbled a reminder to do a welfare check on the kids. That was it. A brief, clinical record of events that seemed far too detached from the reality of what might have happened.

I flicked through a few more pages, reading notes about other incidents—drunk and disorderly charges, mentions of the kids, an accident where Edward had driven into a fire hydrant. Then, I found something that made my pulse quicken. A curious note, almost hidden among the others: something about Rebecca and pills and how her death might end up not being as clear-cut as it seemed. But the note was crossed out as if my dad had been trying to erase it from existence.

“Why are you in my things?” a voice croaked from the doorway.

I turned, my heart lurching as I saw my dad standing there, his expression lucid but angry, Mom standing behind him with a hand on his arm.

“They’re just visiting,” she murmured, and tried to tug him away but he wrenched free and stepped closer.

“Stop pulling at me!” he yelled at Mom, who stepped back. Then he paled and gripped her hand. “Sorry. I’m sorry. Ignore me. I love you.”

“I love you too,” she whispered, cradling his face gently. “I’ll always love you.”

For a second, there was a brilliant moment of absolute connection between my parents, but then he gently pushed Mom to leave. “Sherif’s work now, sweetheart,” he murmured, and she smiled before hovering out on the landing.

“What do you need, son?” he asked me, looking vital for a bit, almost focused.

“Rebecca Lennox,” I said, watching his reaction.

He frowned, moved into the room, and sat in the old armchair by the window.

“Hmm,” he muttered, almost to himself. “Killed herself before the cancer could take her … went to sleep. I reckon before he could kill her himself…” he frowned at his words. “He asked me to write that…”

“Write what, Dad?”

“Huh?”

“Who asked you to write something?”

“Edward. He wasn’t a good man, but I wanted to keep the town happy and protect the kids. Let God deal with his punishment.”

“Protect the kids from what? Dad?”

Dad was unfocused and then showed the first signs of agitation. “I told him that God would judge him, just like I told that Micah boy.” His eyes widened. “And you’ll go to hell, too! Why did I say that?”

“It’s okay, Dad⁠—”

I said all of that, and I meant it.” He began to cry. “But I didn’t mean that for you… I’m sorry, son.”

“It was in the past. It’s okay.” I paused, and he stared at me. For a moment, I felt a connection, but then he frowned.

“What’s okay?” he was confused again. Shit. I was losing him, and I needed more information.

“What did you do with Edward?”

“Edward?”

“Edward and his wife, Rebecca.”

He blinked at me, wiped away tears, and drew back his shoulders. “She killed herself, and that’s a sin. So, I lied to keep her kids safe. People believe the badge, son; they think you’re being truthful always.”

My heart broke. Did he know for sure what Edward had done?

“Dad? What did Edward do?”

“He didn’t have the money… no one does, and she was dying, and she told me… she said she wanted the kids to be safe… said it was easier if she went to sleep forever. Before Edward killed her himself.”

My heart skipped a beat, and dread consumed me. “Dad? What else did she say?”

“Who?”

“Rebecca Lennox.”

His gaze grew distant as confusion clouded his features. “Who?” The sharpness that had been there a moment ago was fading, slipping away from him.

I took a deep breath, my heart aching at seeing him like this. While he wasn’t looking, I slid the journal into my jacket, hiding it from view. There were things in here—things I needed to understand, but not in front of him.

“Dad, it’s okay,” I said, trying to soothe him. “Why don’t you go back to your chair and rest?”

He blinked at me, his confusion deepening, but he nodded and let Mom help him back down to the living room. I watched him go, the journal’s weight pressing into my side.

Connor met my eyes as I turned back to him. He didn’t say anything, but the concern was written all over his face. I didn’t have the words to respond to that, so I just gave him a small nod and headed for the door. We needed to get out of there to piece together the puzzle slowly and see it revealing itself in my dad’s scribbled notes.

As we left the house, the late afternoon sun had dipped lower, casting everything in a golden light that felt at odds with the darkness brewing in my thoughts. I knew we were getting closer to the truth, but I wasn’t sure I was ready for what we’d find.

By unspoken agreement, we headed out of town, the road winding as it climbed the mountain toward Lennox Ranch. Near the main house, the barn loomed large, the heart of the ranch, and it was there that we found Micah standing by the office with a clipboard in hand, his brow furrowed.

We exchanged friendly hellos, the kind you give when you’re about to drop a bombshell on someone’s day. I didn’t waste time with small talk. “Can we talk, Micah? Me, you, and Rachel.”

“And me,” Connor added, stepping forward, his tone respectful but firm. “If that’s okay.”

Micah’s eyes flickered with something—fear, maybe, or suspicion. He opened his mouth to say something, then hesitated, his face going pale as the words slipped out. “Fuck, is this about the gun?”

The moment the words left his lips, he realized what he’d said, and his expression turned to one of panic. He looked like a deer caught in headlights, waiting for the impact.

“No, but I know about the gun, and it’s buried, Micah, okay?”

“Fuck,” Micah rubbed his eyes. “Fuck.”

“Can you get Rachel? This is about your parents.”

Micah blinked, confusion replacing the fear in his eyes. He hesitated for a moment before nodding and heading off to fetch Rachel. While we waited, Connor and I exchanged a glance, both of us knowing that this conversation would be hard.

Rachel appeared a few minutes later, her face lighting up with a ready smile as she approached. She was pregnant, not far from her due date, her hand resting on her belly. Micah led her over to a table by the fence overlooking the valley, the breathtaking view stretching out before us.

Micah pulled out a chair for Rachel, encouraging her to sit. She lowered herself, still smiling, though there was a hint of worry in her eyes now, sensing the seriousness of the situation.

“Okay,” I began, struggling to find the right words. “I don’t know where to start, but… I’m just going to say it. I’m looking into the possibility that the bones in the well might be your mom’s.”

The shock on their faces was immediate and palpable. Rachel’s smile faded, her eyes widening. Micah’s expression crumbled, the strength he’d been holding onto slipping away as the reality of what I’d said hit him.

“No, she died in Canada at a retreat. She had cancer,” Rachel said, her voice trembling.

“That might not be accurate,” I tried to be gentle. “We don’t have the full picture yet, and we’re waiting on DNA analysis, but I wanted to give you a heads-up and to ask if either of you recall anything about your mom and dad around that time… anything at all.”

Rachel’s eyes filled with tears, and she looked away, trying to hold herself together. Micah’s jaw clenched as he stared at the ground, his hands curling into fists on the table.

“Nothing,” he said. “Just that Dad was angry, and I … spent a lot of time outside with the horses. I couldn’t see Mom ill.”

I glanced at Rachel for her comments, and she took a shaky breath.

“The night he took Momma to her place in Canada, I was nine. I was sleeping, but I heard Dad crying. They were going on holiday and told me they were going to fix her cancer if they could, but…”

“We knew she was dying,” Micah finished for his sister.

“She told us she was sorry, that she loved us. Then… she wouldn’t wake up. I remember… tablets on the floor… I remember she looked so peaceful just sleeping like that.”

She paused, wiping at the tears that had begun to fall, and leaned into Micah who hugged her gently.

“Dad was drunk, angry, shouting about how he’d planned it all out, how it was going to cost him nothing, but now he had to move her, how she was supposed to walk out and die somewhere else. He was ranting about the money, suicide, and murder, and I got scared, even though Mom was still sleeping. And I … I don’t remember anything else except that Micah was ill that night.”

Micah was surprised. “I was? You remember that?”

“I wanted you to hear it all to make it disappear, but you were fast asleep.” She pressed her hands to her belly.

“Rachel, I’m sorry,” Micah whispered, and she reached over to touch his face.

“Never be sorry for having one less awful memory of what he did to us.”

They hugged, and when they drew apart, I didn’t have the heart to ask them anything else.

The silence that followed was heavy, filled with the memories neither of them wanted to revisit. I could see the pain in their eyes, the confusion, the anger at not knowing the full truth. And all I could do was sit there, knowing that whatever comfort I could offer would never be enough.

“If it is her, then we’ll do everything to find out what happened,” I promised. “Whatever it takes, we’ll find out.”

Rachel nodded, her tears still falling as she reached for Micah’s hand, gripping it. Micah didn’t say anything; he just sat there, his face a mask of determination and sorrow. He was holding it together for Rachel, for the baby she carried, but I could see the cracks forming in his armor.

Scott, Rachel’s husband, came out of the house then. He took one look at his wife and bristled. “What the hell?” he asked as he helped Rachel stand.

“They think it might be Mom in the well… the bones…” He and Micah helped her back to the house, and Connor stood beside me, his presence a steadying force.

“That fucking sucked,” he muttered. “And none of it helped.”

“It might have,” I said, tiredly. “What if Rebecca knew she was close to dying? The family didn’t have money. It would have been one more burden on her kids, and they already had to live with Edward, a bastard. What if she knew he was going to hurt her, so she took enough pills to leave peacefully? Maybe the well wasn’t his first choice. Rachel said she heard him say she was supposed to walk and that he had plans.”

“That is fucked up.”

I sighed. “Yeah.” We got into his car and sat in silence for a moment.

“What now?” he broke the quiet.

“I need to ask the ME for an update, but also if there’s any chance we can get any trace of narcotics or reason for death. I need to check in on the office. Then home.”

“Okay.”

“Will you be waiting at my place?” I asked.

He turned to face me. “I’ll be there.”

I reached into my pocket and held out a key, which he took and gripped in his fist. “No more breaking in.”

“Not even for fun?” he asked.

We met in the middle for a kiss. I’d never given anyone a key to my place, and it was clear that he hadn’t expected it.

“Nope, not even for fun.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

CONNOR

When Neil arrived home, just after nine in the evening, he looked as if he’d been put through the wringer. Exhaustion was etched into every line of his face, his usual confident stride reduced to something slower, more deliberate. Still, he managed to eat some of the lasagna I’d made from scratch—well, from bottles and dried pasta, at least. It wasn’t gourmet, but it filled the gap.

“What did the ME say?” I asked after a pause where I let him eat.

“That detecting any traces of medication after all this time was statistically unlikely.”

Fuck.

I made him drink water and sit on the sofa with his notebook, already thick with the notes he’d been jotting down throughout the day. They weren’t the same fancy journals as his dad’s, not by a long shot, but they clearly served a similar purpose. I couldn’t help but wonder how often my name appeared in them.

While he sat there, scribbling away, I cleared up the kitchen, loading the dishwasher and wiping down the counters. When I stepped into the living room, I found him dozing, the notebook resting on his chest, the pen loose in his left hand.

He looked peaceful like that, the tension from the day slipping away in sleep. His hair was tousled, a few strands falling over his forehead, and there was light stubble on his jaw, a shadow that only made him more rugged.

Mine.

The soft light from the lamp cast a warm glow on his face, highlighting the strong lines of his jaw, the curve of his lips, and the slight rise and fall of his chest as he breathed deeply.

God, he was so beautiful.

I leaned over to kiss his forehead, pressing my lips to his skin. He let out a sleepy noise, somewhere between a sigh and a hum, and it was the most adorable sound I’d ever heard—not that I’d ever tell him that. Those pesky feelings I’d caught were bigger and better now, but I wanted him more awake when I told him how I felt and what I wanted for our future.

“Time for bed,” I murmured, not wanting to startle him.

“‘M comfy,” he mumbled, eyes still closed, his voice thick with sleep.

“Bed,” I insisted, my tone firm.

He grumbled something unintelligible but relented, sitting up and stretching. We went through the usual routine, brushing our teeth in the bathroom. It was a quiet, comfortable moment, the kind of routine that felt like home. When we climbed into bed, naked, how I curled around him was instinctive, natural, fitting perfectly as the big spoon.

“Wyatt found a permanent position,” he murmured, “had to write references.”

“Will you replace him?”

He sighed and then turned in my arms. “I need to, even if I have my own personal superhero to hand.” He chuckled against my skin and then pressed a kiss close to my nipple before kissing me again, closer and closer, until he tugged the nipple with his teeth, and then suckled it, rubbing at the other with his fingers. Blood rushed south—I thought he’d fall asleep, not end up starting something that I knew I’d finish—worse when he sprawled on top of me and kissed me deeply.

The moment our lips touched, everything else fell away. His mouth was soft and warm, and I moved under him, slowly at first, savoring the feel of him. His breath hitched as I deepened the kiss and widened my legs so he could nestle between them. I cupped the back of his neck, pulling him closer, needing more of him.

He responded in kind, his lips parting, inviting me in. I didn’t hesitate. The kiss grew more heated, more urgent, as I angled my head, and he pressed harder against me. The world outside could have been burning, and I wouldn’t have noticed. All that mattered was how he felt in my arms and how he fit against me as if he was made to be there.

I broke the kiss, but only long enough to breathe, my forehead resting against his as I tried to gather my scattered thoughts. His eyes were heavy-lidded, glazed with the same desire that was coursing through my veins. I couldn’t help the small, satisfied smile that tugged at my lips, knowing I’d been the one to make him look like that.

“Connor…” he breathed out, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah?” I murmured, brushing my thumb over his jaw, my heart pounding.

He didn’t answer with words. Instead, he pulled me back in, his lips crashing into mine with a renewed intensity that left me dizzy, craving more. And I gave it to him, pouring everything I felt into that kiss, into every touch, every brush of our lips, until nothing else existed but us.

He was hard and needy, naked the same as me, and in a matter of seconds, we were grinding against each other, slip-sliding in movements that were slow but insistent. Neil lost control first, hot and wet between us, and I was quick to follow.

And we kissed.

I could feel his hands fisting in the fabric of the sheet as if he could push himself closer still. I groaned into his mouth, the sound low and filled with a hunger that had been building for far too long. His tongue flicked against mine, and I felt a jolt of electricity shoot through me, igniting every nerve ending. He reached for my discarded T-shirt, and I didn’t even argue when he wiped us down and then flopped onto his back. I grabbed it, tossed it aside, and pulled him into my arms.

His body relaxed into mine, and I couldn’t hold it back any longer. All the feelings I’d been holding onto, which I hadn’t entirely found the words for, spilled out.

“I love you,” I whispered, the words catching in my throat, but there was no stopping them now.

After a heartbeat of silence, he whispered in the dark, “I love you too.”

Everything clicked into place. I held him tighter, wrapped up in each other.

Neil’s voice cut through the stillness when I thought he’d drifted off. “So, was that worth more than a seven out of ten?”

I felt a laugh bubble up in my chest, and I rolled over to face him. I kissed him slowly and deeply without hesitation, savoring his taste. When I finally pulled back, I grinned. “That, my sexy sheriff, was a fifteen.”

He chuckled, resting his forehead against mine. “Good to know.”

I held him tighter, his warmth pressed against me, and we drifted off to sleep again, wrapped up in each other.

Whatever forever looked like, I was all in.

Over the next three weeks, box by box, I moved in with Neil. I was still paying rent for the apartment above the diner, but that space had become more of an office than a home. Neil’s place—our place, if I were honest with myself—had become my new base where I returned at the end of the day. I wouldn’t leave anything over the diner, given that Quinn was talking about converting one of the old stores along Main into an office for our new venture, but that was an issue for another day.

First, I had to overcome a new challenge. I was heading out to meet up with my SEAL team for a reunion. And I was taking Neil with me. He didn’t have a choice. I wanted my Navy brothers to meet him, but mostly—selfishly—I wanted him by my side when the memories and emotions of the past, and the missing teammates, came crashing back. I needed him to hold my hand when it all became too much.

Neil was more than my lover—he was my anchor. And in all this chaos, I realized I wanted him with me through everything, for as long as he’d have me.

We’d flown into LA, the City of Angels bathed in late autumn sunshine. I glanced over at Neil, who seemed as out of place as I felt, and couldn’t help but smile—this was going to be interesting.

We made our way to a bar tucked away in a quieter part of the city; the place noisy enough to drown out casual eavesdroppers but not so loud that you couldn’t have a conversation. Oberon had booked a backroom, a space where we could be ourselves, let loose, and remember the ones who weren’t with us anymore.

As we walked in I saw Trick and Oberon, along with some other guys who I assumed were part of Oberon’s security company, given that I saw Carter was one of them. Oberon was the first to spot me, his broad grin stretching across his face as he clapped me on the shoulder. “Connor, you made it!”

“Had to happen one day, right?”

The others were quick to follow. With his sharp wit and easygoing demeanor, Trick pulled me into a bear hug, thumping my back. “About time, man. We were starting to think you’d gone soft on us.”

“Never,” I shot back, grinning as I returned the hug. “Someone’s gotta keep you two in line.”

“And who are you?” Oberon deadpanned as he shook Neil’s hand.

“This is my partner,” I talked over whatever Neil was going to say, and got elbowed in the side for the trouble. “My boyfriend. My lover. Hands off.”

“I’m Neil,” he said with a roll of his eyes.

“Good to meet you, Neil.”

“Likewise.”

I narrowed my eyes at Oberon, warned him silently to back the fuck off with his flirting shit, and then when Oberon nodded, I left him and Neil talking about alarms and headed over to Carter, holding court in the corner. Not that I stopped watching my former CO.

“Carter. Nice to meet you face-to-face finally,” I said, my voice low as I stepped closer and bro-hugged him. “Thanks for the help. I owe you.”

He shrugged, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Likewise, and yes, you do.”

We exchanged grins, the kind that said more than words ever could. Then, with a glance around the room, we all settled into the backroom, the atmosphere shifting from casual to something more solemn.

Oberon raised a glass, his expression serious now, and we all followed suit. “To everyone we’ve lost,” he said, his voice steady but tinged with the weight of loss. “Gone too soon, but never forgotten.”

We all echoed the sentiment, our glasses clinking together in unity. The taste of the whiskey was sharp on my tongue, burning its way down my throat, but it wasn’t just the alcohol that made my chest tighten. It was the memories—of the men and women, of all the missions we’d shared with others, the close calls, and the relationships forged in the fire of combat.

Neil stood beside me, silent but present, and I felt a surge of gratitude that he was here, that he’d agreed to step into this part of my life.

The conversation picked up again, the tension easing as we shifted from mourning to reminiscing. Stories were shared, jokes made at each other’s expense, the kind only those who’d been through the worst together could tell.

I found myself relaxing into the evening, the presence of my teammates—my brothers—grounding me in a way I hadn’t realized I needed. And with Neil by my side, I felt more complete than I had in a long time. This was my world, chaotic and messy, but it was mine. And now, it was ours.

Oberon cornered me an hour into the event, nursing a drink. With that all-too-familiar intensity, he asked, “So, have you thought any more about the job offer? You know, working with me and Trick?”

The question hung in the air, and I could feel Neil’s presence beside me, solid and steady. I glanced over at him, his expression neutral, but I knew him well enough by now to catch the subtle tension in his jaw. He listened closely, probably expecting me to be torn about the offer. Hell, a few weeks ago, I might have chosen to leave Whisper Ridge.

But now?

Now, I wasn’t torn at all.

I turned back to Oberon, meeting his gaze. “I’m still thinking about it, but Whisper Ridge is where I need to be right now.”

Oberon raised an eyebrow, surprised by how adamant I sounded. “Really? I figured you’d be itching to get back into the action, to be part of a team again.”

I shrugged, a small smile tugging at the corner of my lips. “Whisper Ridge has its own kind of action. And besides, I’m not alone there. I’ve got things—people—that matter.”

Neil didn’t say anything, but I could feel the shift in the air between us. It wasn’t just relief—it was something deeper that felt like a step forward in this complicated thing we had going on. He might not say it out loud, but I knew he was glad I’d chosen to stay.

Oberon studied me for a long moment before nodding with a slight smile. “All right, Connor. If that’s what you want, I’m happy for you. But the offer stands if you ever change your mind.”

“Thanks, but I’m good,” I replied, feeling more confident than ever. Being with Neil was my place, my life—at least until Neil was done with my shit—and I wasn’t looking to leave it behind.

As the conversation shifted to lighter topics, I couldn’t help but glance at Neil again. His eyes met mine, and in that unspoken way we had, I hoped we were on the same page. Whisper Ridge was where I belonged, and wherever this thing between us was going, it was worth staying for.

We made it back to Whisper Ridge to help Neil’s mom get his dad to the assisted living facility in Collier Springs. Neil’s dad had taken another turn for the worse, the bullet fragment in his brain shifting and wreaking havoc on his ability to understand the world around him. In a matter of weeks, his condition had deteriorated, leaving him confused and lost. He didn’t even know Neil and watching that realization dawn on Neil’s face broke my heart.

I’d offered to go with them, to be there for whatever they needed, and Neil didn’t argue. He nodded, a silent acceptance I was part of this now.

Bessie was there, too, with Eric and Jason. Neil drove his dad in the sheriff’s SUV, the old man mumbling about procedures and witnesses as he was helped in, lost in a time way before the bullet and dementia had taken over. Neil didn’t try to correct him, didn’t try to bring him back to the present. He listened, living in his dad’s world with him, as he helped his quiet and subdued mom into the back, her hands twisting in her lap as she stared out of the window.

I’d volunteered to drive Bessie and her family in my SUV, and when we arrived at Whispering Pines Assisted Living, I parked next to Neil’s vehicle. The place was nice, as far as these places go—clean, well-kept, with expansive lawns and rooms with big windows letting in plenty of light. It didn’t make any of this easier, though.

I saw Neil helping his dad out of the SUV, one hand on his arm, the other on his back, guiding him with a gentleness that made my chest ache. Bessie was helping her mom out of the backseat, and Eric and Jason were standing by, unsure what to do with themselves. A heavy silence hung over us, the kind that comes when everyone knows something’s ending, but no one wants to say it out loud.

Neil’s dad glanced around, his eyes cloudy with confusion, and mumbled something about needing to file a report. Neil guided him toward the entrance. His face was a mask of calm I knew was hiding a storm underneath.

I fell into step beside Bessie, offering her a small smile as we walked. “How’s Jason holding up?” I asked quietly, glancing at the teenager with his hands in his pockets, staring anywhere but at the facility.

“He’s… coping,” Bessie replied, her voice tight. “It’s hard for him to see his grandpa like this, but he’s doing his best.”

I nodded, understanding more than she knew. This wasn’t easy for any of them, but they were holding it together, and that was what mattered.

When we reached the entrance, the staff greeted us warmly, leading Neil’s dad inside with practiced ease. They knew how to handle situations like this, but that didn’t make it any less gut-wrenching for the family watching it all happen. I stayed back, letting Neil, Bessie, and their mom have their moments, offering quiet support from the sidelines.

Neil caught my eye once, only a glance, but it was enough to tell me how much he appreciated me being there. I gave him a slight nod, a silent promise that I’d be there for him through this, no matter how tough it got.

This was the beginning of a new chapter for Neil’s family, one filled with challenges and adjustments. But I knew one thing for sure—I wasn’t going anywhere. I’d be there for Neil, for all of them, for as long as they needed me.

Chapter Twenty-Six

NEIL

The drive back home was suffocating and silent. The kind of silence that felt heavy, pressing down on me, making it hard to breathe. I kept my eyes on the road, the world outside the car a blur of muted colors, Mom and Bessie as quiet as me. Connor followed in his car with Eric and Jason. We theoretically had time to process, but none of us said a thing.

Leaving Dad at the care home had been one of the hardest things I’d ever done. Seeing him so vulnerable, so … diminished, it was like watching a giant crumble before my eyes. Dad had always been this larger-than-life figure—strong, capable, unshakeable. And now? Now he was a shell of that man, lost in a world where I couldn’t reach him, not really.

I couldn’t reconcile the man who had been so strict, the sheriff who had always stuck to the letter of the law, with the one who admitted he’d lied to cover up a death. Did Dad know what Edward had done to his wife? That was a question I knew we’d never get an answer to, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t understand his motives. The more I thought about it, the more it twisted me up inside. How could the man I looked up to, the one who taught me right from wrong, have crossed such a line? It was a part of him I’d never truly grasp, and it left me with a knot in my chest I wasn’t sure would ever untangle.

How did I stop the grief and disappointment from breaking down my walls?

Bessie elected to stay with Mom tonight, so after dropping them both off, I headed home and parked next to Connor’s SUV in the driveway. I killed the engine and sat there, gripping the steering wheel until my knuckles turned white. Now what?

Eventually, I forced myself out of the car, my legs feeling like lead as I trudged to the front door. Connor opened the door for me, and as soon as I stepped inside and the door clicked shut behind us, the weight of the day crashed over me like a tidal wave.

Connor didn’t hesitate. He reached out, tugging me closer, and before I knew it, I was in his arms, my face buried in the crook of his neck. The dam I’d been holding back all day broke, and the tears came, hot and angry and bitter.

“He was always so strong,” I choked out, my voice barely more than a whisper. “He was … he was everything. We used to fight so bad, and he wanted too much from me, and now … now he doesn’t even know who I am half the time. What the hell am I supposed to do with that?”

Connor’s arms tightened around me, one hand rubbing slow, soothing circles on my back. “You did everything you could, Neil. You’ve been there for him, for your mom, for everyone. You’ve held it together when most people would’ve crumbled.”

“It’s just…” I trailed off, trying to find the words for the storm raging inside me. “It’s like he’s already gone, but he’s still here, and I don’t know how to … how to deal with that.”

Connor pulled back enough to look me in the eyes, his expression fierce with determination. “You’re not supposed to have all the answers, not all the time. And it’s okay to be sad, angry, and feel like it’s all too much. But I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

I wished that were true, and I wanted to believe he’d stay in Whisper Ridge, but the grief was so overwhelming, so suffocating, that I couldn’t see a way out of it. “I don’t know how to do this, Connor. I don’t know how to watch him slip away.”

“You don’t always have to be the strong one.” His thumb brushed away a stray tear.

“He suggested he’d talked to Rebecca Lennox, and I think maybe he turned a blind eye to what happened so the kids were safe.” I blurted that out before I could second-guess myself, and for a moment, Connor was quiet.

“Did he write that in the journals he kept?”

“No. I couldn’t make much sense of it, but he started to tell me, and then he closed down and got confused.”

“What are you going to do with that information?”

“What information? He didn’t say anything concrete. Fuck. Connor.” The sheer weight of my emotions threatened to pull me under. But he held on, grounding me, making me feel as if I didn’t have to face this alone. Even when I felt like I was falling apart, he would be there to catch the pieces tonight.

“Maybe you share with Micah and Rachel,” he murmured after a while. “Maybe you don’t say anything because your dad isn’t thinking straight. Who will it help, now?”

“I’m the sheriff; it’s my job to uphold the law.”

“Everything will be okay,” he whispered, kissing my temple gently. “Maybe not right away, maybe not for a while, but you’ll figure it out.”

I nodded against his shoulder, taking a deep, shaky breath as I tried to let his words sink in.

“Thank you,” I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. “For being here. For … for everything.”

“It’s all good,” Connor replied, his voice strong and sure. “I’ve got you, babe.”

For the first time that day, I let myself believe him. I let myself lean on him, let myself accept that I didn’t have to do this alone. And as we stood there, wrapped up in each other, the world outside our door could wait. For now, this was enough.

It was some time before the ME could give us a definitive answer on the bones in the well—they’d found trace DNA and matched it to Micah. All evidence suggested that the bones were the remains of Micah and Rachel’s mom, Rebecca. Xavier had been blunt in his delivery, explaining that the tests on medications came up empty, but it didn’t prove anything as too much time had passed. The bones showed evidence of trauma, but that could have been from hitting the side of the well. Tally had a collection of items from the luggage she wanted to share with Micah and Rachel, and they were being couriered. I was curious, of course, and got to see photos of everything, but the originals were reserved for the Lennox siblings, as they should be.

The medical records might have told us that she’d only had a few months to live, but that didn’t lessen Micah and Rachel’s pain. I did admit to Rachel and Micah some of what my dad said to me, even though it felt like betraying my dad, who wasn’t there to defend himself. His ramblings hadn’t made a lot of sense, but I told them, and at least I’d been honest. Rachel hugged me after, Micah shook my hand, and somehow, I felt as if I was finally doing the right thing by them and my dad. The discovery had reopened old wounds and cast a shadow over everything they thought they knew, but they were a strong family, and they were getting through it all together. They were focused on the future, and they didn’t want the past to become more than a memory.

They released Rebecca Lennox’s remains in late October, and today, the family was burying her. The wind carried the scent of approaching winter, where the chill settled deep into your bones and made the ground beneath your feet feel harder than it should. The sky was overcast, a muted gray matching the somber mood of the gathering. Almost the entire town had turned up, a sea of dark coats and solemn faces, their breath visible in the crisp air.

The small cemetery, nestled in the corner where the graveyard butted up against Lennox land, felt like a fitting resting place for Rebecca Lennox. She was being laid to rest in the peace she had been denied in life, far from the man who had made her final days a misery. The only consolation any of us could take was that Edward Lennox was dead too, buried somewhere in this graveyard, though no one in the family had bothered to mark his burial site.

Micah and Rachel stood together at the edge of the open grave; their hands tightly clasped. On either side of them, Daniel and Scott provided silent support, their presence a reminder that the Lennox siblings weren’t alone in their grief. Rachel’s eyes were red-rimmed, but she held her head high, a quiet strength radiating from her that reminded me of her mother. Micah was more stoic, his face a mask, but I could see the pain in his eyes, the kind that comes from losing something you never had the chance to hold onto.

How Rebecca had died would remain a mystery, but in my gut, I knew it was Edward’s doing. The memories Rachel had recovered seemed to suggest that her mother had taken her own life, a final act of defiance before her husband could end it for her. He’d tossed her body down the well, not even giving her the dignity of a burial. Maybe it was for fear that the town would find out she’d committed suicide, or maybe that they would suspect he’d had a hand in it.

What was worse was we’d never know the whole story.

From what Connor had learned, Edward had left town and stayed away long enough to make the story fit, and then he’d come back and pretended she’d gone. He refused to talk about it, kept his fucking pride, and never let anyone know how he treated her.

Or how he’d treated Micah and Rachel.

It was a tragic story, one that left a bitter taste in my mouth, but at least now, Rebecca was being laid to rest away from him. Her grave, a peaceful plot beneath the bare branches of a large oak, was far from where Edward lay.

The minister spoke quietly. His words were lost to the wind as the townspeople bowed their heads. I found myself staring at the fresh mound of dirt that would soon cover Rebecca’s casket, wishing there was more I could do, more I could say.

As the service ended, people began to disperse, and family and close friends headed back to the Lennox Ranch for the wake. My feet felt rooted to the spot, my eyes lingering on the grave as the crowd thinned around me.

Connor stepped up beside me, his hand brushing mine in a silent offer of comfort.

“You should go with them,” I said, my voice low, almost lost to the wind. “Be with your friends.”

“What about you?” he asked, his tone gentle, but there was an edge of concern there too.

“I’m covering the office,” I replied, my eyes still on the grave. We’d talked last night about people wanting to talk about my dad, how he was doing, and how long he had.

I wasn’t ready to stand in a crowd and tell them the truth—that he was living on borrowed time in a world of confusion.

“Babe—”

“I promise you I’m okay.”

Connor hesitated as if he was going to argue, then he kissed me. “All right,” he said, though I could see the reluctance in his eyes. He squeezed my hand before stepping back. “I’ll see you later, then.”

I watched him walk away, heading toward the line of cars that would take everyone back to the ranch. The sound of car doors closing, engines starting, and murmured voices filled the air as the town departed, leaving the cemetery quiet and still.

The cold seeped through my coat as I stood there, alone with my thoughts and the grave of a woman who had suffered more than anyone ever should. The only sound was the wind through bare branches and the distant hum of the town waking up to another day.

Rebecca was at peace, and that was something. But the weight of her story and how it had ended hung heavy in the air. I knew I’d carry it with me, just as Micah and Rachel would, and in some small way, that felt right. We couldn’t change the past, couldn’t undo the wrongs that had been done, but at least now, there was some small measure of justice in the fact that Edward Lennox would never harm anyone again.

I took one last look at the grave before turning away and heading back into town. There was work to be done, and life would go on, but today, at least, we had done something that mattered. And that, I hoped, was enough.

Epilogue

NEIL

Three weeks later

Connor’s hands gripped the wheel as we drove up to Lennox Ranch, the road twisting through the hills. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the landscape. The tension in Connor’s shoulders was palpable, and though I wasn’t used to being a passenger in his car, today was different. We were heading to the ranch for a celebration, and a mix of anticipation and something heavier was hanging in the air.

“How are you feeling about being Archie’s hero today?” I asked, breaking the comfortable silence between us.

Connor’s gaze flicked to me before returning to the road, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “It’s good to see Archie happy, you know? Not every investigation has a happy ending like that.”

I nodded, catching the unspoken words beneath his response. Archie’s stepdad and Grace were visiting, and according to Micah, Archie was over the moon about it. He’d practically begged Connor to be there to meet his sister. We were almost at the ranch when Connor pulled the car to the side of the road and killed the engine.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, my stomach doing a little flip.

“Can we talk?” Connor’s tone was serious, setting off alarm bells in my head. Was this it? The moment he’d tell me he was leaving, that he’d take Oberon up on his offer of a partnership in their security firm in LA. I couldn’t help but be on edge since we’d visited and met Oberon, Trick, and Carter. Connor had fit in with them, the camaraderie flowing so well I’d been dreading him telling me he would accept Oberon’s offer and leave.

“Are you okay?” I asked, my voice quieter, almost hesitant.

“Yeah,” he admitted, taking a deep breath before he continued. “Before we get there, I need to tell you something.”

“Okay?”

“You know I told you that Quinn and I have been talking about me working with people escaping cults…”

“Yeah?” He’d mentioned it several times, more in passing than giving it serious consideration. I tried to keep my voice neutral, but my heart was pounding. Was this his way of saying goodbye?

“Some of it… look.” He hesitated, searching for the right words. “I’m not the kind of man who just sits on my thumbs, right? If someone contacts this new charity and needs help getting out, I want to be the one to help. That means getting my hands dirty, putting myself in danger.” He glanced at me again, his expression unreadable.

“I wouldn’t expect you to be any other way,” I replied, confused as to why he was telling me this. Connor had always been a man on the move, chasing the next mission, the next challenge. I’d assumed he’d leave, that our relationship would become long-distance. Hell, I’d even resigned myself to it. But maybe I’d been wrong.

“But how it works is … I stay in Whisper Ridge; this is the base where I work.”

“Okay.” Hope bloomed in my chest despite my best efforts to stay grounded.

“I want to come home to my husband every night, get his advice, work with the sheriff, mess with the sheriff, and I want forever with you.”

My mouth fell open. “Did you just say you wanted to come home to your husband?”

“Yeah, I mean, we’d need to get married for you to be my husband.”

“Is that you asking me to marry you?”

He wrinkled his nose, a little sheepish. “I just told you I’d be putting myself in danger, and all you got from that is that I’m asking you to marry me?” He seemed surprised, but then a slow smile spread across his face, his eyes brightening with emotion. “But yeah, you’re not wrong.”

“So, you are asking me to marry you,” I murmured, still trying to process everything.

“Neil Windham, will you marry me even if I’m still diving into trouble at the drop of a hat?”

Old me would have balked at his cavalier attitude about causing mayhem, but the new me, who’d fallen in love with this man, only had one answer.

“Yes.”

I shifted in my seat, releasing my belt to get closer to him. He did the same, and we met in the middle, our kiss deep and filled with all the things words couldn’t express. The connection between us was undeniable, and for that moment, everything else faded away. But the sound of my phone vibrating against the console broke us apart.

I wasn’t on duty, but that phone was never far from me, especially since I’d asked Wyatt to stay in Whisper Ridge. He needed time to think, and every buzz made me anxious to see if he’d decided.

Connor reached for my phone first. “Wyatt said he’d stay,” he announced, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

I was too pleased with Wyatt staying—on top of a freaking proposal—to care how Connor knew the number to unlock my phone. I yanked it away from him and read the simple message myself. Yes, Wyatt was staying, and did I know if Connor still wanted his place over the diner? I sent back a message that Connor no longer needed the space, and that Noah would probably be happy to have Wyatt there. Having a deputy over his business was a solid win for Noah, as it had been having a former SEAL when Connor lived there.

Once I was done, Connor pulled me in for another kiss. We might have stayed there all afternoon, tangled in each other, but then Connor’s phone let out his ‘Quinn’ tone. He pulled back to check the screen and winced.

“Quinn says we’re late.”

“Then we’d better get a move on,” I said, but he didn’t start the car. “What’s wrong?”

“Just making sure…” He grasped my hand, his grip firm. “We’re getting married, right?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re okay with me doing the rescue stuff?”

“Yes.”

“And you love me.”

I yanked him over to steal another kiss. “I love you.”

Satisfied, he settled back in his seat, a grin spreading across his face as he started the car and pulled back onto the road. We headed the last quarter mile up to the ranch, snow beginning to cover the ground, with heavy clouds threatening to bury Whisper Ridge overnight. From one storm to the next, my mind was already compiling a list of things I needed to handle. But I couldn’t help hoping this storm wouldn’t reveal any more bones from a well.

We let ourselves into the main house, walking straight into a whirlwind of activity. Adults chatted, kids darted between them, and the air was filled with the scent of Noah’s incredible cooking wafting in from the kitchen.

Quinn was the first to spot us. “There they are!” he called out, waving us over. “Took you long enough!”

“Traffic was terrible,” Connor deadpanned, earning a laugh from Quinn.

Before I could say anything, a blur of red hair hit Connor from the side. Archie clung to him; his eyes bright with excitement. “You’re the greatest PI ever! Thank you, thank you!” He handed Connor a small bag of coins with all the seriousness of a businessman concluding a deal.

“Our business is concluded,” Connor intoned, pocketing the change.

“You’re the best PI in the whole of Wyoming!” Archie announced before he dashed off to join a little girl in pigtails who clambered onto his lap.

He tapped my chest. “I’m the best PI in all of Wyoming,” Connor said smugly.

I rolled my eyes, pulling him into my side. “You’re the most annoying PI in all of Wyoming.”

“But you love me, so it’s okay,” Connor teased, handing me a plate for the food being passed around.

“You’re lucky I love you,” I said with a sigh, feigning exasperation. But the truth was, I was only joking.

Connor Mason had come into my life, turned my world upside down, and now he was mine forever.

And that was the best kind of ending.

THE END

Read Oberon, Trick, and Carter’s love stories in the Mariners trilogy. Coming 2026.

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Single Dads

Box Set - books 1-3

Single | Today | Promise | Always

Listen | Pride | Miracle | Rainbow

Single (Single Dads 1)

Reeling from the painful rejection of a man he thought he loved, Asher is left holding the baby.

Ash wants a family and is determined to continue with a surrogacy he’d begun with his ex. Bringing baby Mia home, he vows that he will be the best father he can be. Nothing in this world matters more to him than caring for his daughter, not even accidentally falling in lust with the doctor next door. Challenged by his growing attraction to Sean, and confronted by painful memories of his family, Ash has to learn that love is all that matters.

When ER doctor Sean moves in with his friends next door to sexy single father Ash, he falls so quickly it takes his breath away. The sex they have is hot, but Ash is adamant his heart is too full with love for his daughter to let anyone else in. Why is Sean the only one who sees how scared Ash is, and how can he prove to his new lover that he desperately wants the three of them to become a family?

http://rjscott.co.uk/read-single

Single Dads Series

The Single Dads Series can be read as standalone, but some characters will appear in other stories :)

Single | Today | Promise | Always

Listen | Pride | Miracle

Heroes

Box Set - books 1-3

A Reason To Stay | Last Marine Standing | Deacon’s Law

A Reason to Stay (Heroes, 1)

It takes a Navy SEAL's training to keep them alive, but when the mystery on the mountain is solved, will Viktor and Aiden's love story survive the fallout?

Viktor left small-town Vermont to become a Navy SEAL and had no intention of tying himself down or falling in love. A succession of men and women share his bed, passion and danger are his addictions, and he's the first of his team to run headlong into trouble. When his nephew witnesses a murder, Viktor returns home to protect his family and lands in the middle of an active case led by none other than the man he left behind. He can handle getting punched out by Aiden, but teaming up with the sheriff to find a killer is not on the cards. For Viktor, love is dangerous, makes a man vulnerable, and one mistake could get Aiden killed. 

Aiden never expected to find lasting love with a decorated active SEAL, but he didn't expect Viktor would leave his bed never to return. Even two years later, disappointment simmers below the surface, and he never wants to see Viktor again. But, when seemingly unrelated deaths draw Viktor back home, Aiden has to find a way for them to work together despite their past. With Viktor's training and Aiden's local knowledge, they partner to work the case, but Aiden isn't just fighting the bad guys and mother nature; he's falling in love with a man who will surely leave him again.

What links the string of deaths in the Green Mountains? Can hate and distrust turn back to love? And if they make it down from the mountain alive, can Aiden persuade Viktor he has a reason to stop running from love?

Shadow Team

How Much for the Whole Night?

How Much for a Broken Heart?

How Much for a Life of Lies?

How Much For The Whole Night?

A seductive stranger gives Josh everything he wants, but one night of lust could get them both killed.

Driven by a combination of alcohol-induced recklessness and an overwhelming desire for something real, Josh ventures into a dark and seedy bar and lusts after a sexy, enigmatic hooker. When Josh negotiates a price for one night of pleasure he can’t know that when his time with Ethan is over, he'll be left shattered and forever changed by the encounter. Fleeing with his son is the only means of ensuring their survival amidst the chaos of what comes next, and there’s only one man he can trust to keep them safe.

A hooker who isn’t a hooker at all.

Ethan is on the brink of completing a covert operation that will enable him to infiltrate a human trafficking ring. Yet, when his conscience clashes with his mission, Ethan disobeys orders, jeopardizing everything he's worked for. Forced to escape, he takes Josh and his son, but he has nowhere to go, and now, their only hope lies in seeking refuge in an isolated safe house far from prying eyes.

Protecting Josh, Ben, and a tuxedo cat called Oreo, is Ethan's priority. Only he has no choice but to resume his undercover role, and he must leave Josh and Ben behind.

When a gun is pointed at his head, his final thought is that he’s lost everything that matters; can he make it home to his new family? Or will he have to die to protect the people he loves?

Texas & Legacy

Texas (Cowboy, Rancher, Millionaire, Family)

The Heart of Texas | Texas Winter | Texas Heat | Texas Family | Texas Christmas | Texas Fall | Texas Wedding | Texas Gift | Home For Christmas

Legacy (spin-off from Texas series)

Kyle | Gabriel | Daniel

The Heart Of Texas (Texas 1)

Bachelor Riley is looking forward to two things: running his father’s successful company and staying single forever. But when suddenly he’s required to marry in order to receive his inheritance, Riley convinces rival Jack into marrying him for one year…

Riley Hayes, the playboy of the Hayes family, is a young man who seems to have it all: money, a career he loves, and his pick of beautiful women. His father, CEO of HayesOil, passes control of the corporation to his two sons; but a stipulation is attached to Riley's portion. Concerned about Riley's lack of maturity, his father requires that Riley 'marry and stay married for one year to someone he loves'.

Angered by the requirement, Riley seeks a means of bypassing his father's stipulation. Blackmailing Jack Campbell into marrying him "for love" suits Riley's purpose. There is no mention in his father's documents that the marriage had to be with a woman and Jack Campbell is the son of Riley Senior's arch-rival. Win-win.

Riley marries Jack and abruptly his entire world is turned inside out. Riley hadn't counted on the fact that Jack Campbell, quiet and unassuming rancher, is a force of nature in his own right.

This is a story of murder, deceit, the struggle for power, lust and love, the sprawling life of a rancher and the whirlwind existence of a playboy. But under and through it all, as Riley learns over the months, this is a tale about family and everything that that word means.

The Heart of Texas

Lancaster Falls (Romantic Suspense)

Box Set 1-3

What Lies Beneath | Without a Trace | All That Remains

What Lies Beneath (Lancaster Falls 1)

In the hottest summer on record, Iron Lake reservoir is emptying, revealing secrets that were intended to stay hidden beneath the water. The tragic story of a missing man is a media sensation, and abruptly the writer and the cop falling in love is just a postscript to horrors neither could have imagined.

Best Selling Horror writer Chris Lassiter struggles for inspiration and he’s close to never writing again. His life has become an endless loop of nothing but empty pages, personal appearances, and a marketing machine that is systematically destroying his muse. In a desperate attempt to force Chris to complete unfinished manuscripts his agent buys a remote cabin. All Chris has to do is hide away and write, but he’s lost his muse, and not even he can make stories appear from thin air.

Sawyer Wiseman left town for Chicago, chasing the excitement and potential of being a big city cop, rising the ranks, and making his mark. A case gone horribly wrong draws him back to Lancaster Falls. Working for the tiny police department in the town he’d been running from, digging into cold cases and police corruption, he spends his day's healing, and his nights hoping the nightmares of his last case leave him alone.

What Lies Beneath

Whisper Ridge, Wyoming (Cowboys)

Winter Cowboy

Summer Drifter

Spring Rains

Into the Fall

Winter Cowboy (Wyoming 1)

Micah and Daniel loved each other; until a devastating tragedy tore them apart. But when they both return to Whisper Ridge, they gain a chance to heal old wounds if hate turns to love... an intense and emotional romance.

Micah Lennox left Whisper Ridge after promising the man he loved that he would never return. But the only way he knows to keep his pregnant sister and nephew safe is to go home. Spending winter in Wyoming opens too many old wounds, but he's on the run from justice which can't be far behind, and this is his last chance at redemption.

After a hostage situation leaves Doctor Daniel Sheridan struggling with PTSD, he returns to Whisper Ridge. Joining his dad in family practice is a balm to soothe his exhausted soul, and somehow, he finds a peace he can live with. That is until he meets Micah in a frozen graveyard, and the years of anger and feelings of betrayal boiling inside him, erupt.

Micah and Daniel have a past that was destroyed by lies and tragedy, and even if hate could turn to love, will Micah stay at Whisper Ridge?

The Lake Prophet Mysteries (Romantic Suspense)

Solstice

Equinox

Zenith

Solstice (A Lake Prophet Mystery)

The Lake Prophet Mysteries, book 1

From the dramatic peaks of the Olympic mountain range to the small town of Prophet, murder is only a footstep away.

Gabriel is a former undercover cop haunted by the things he’s seen and done. He returns to his small hometown of Prophet, taking on the role of sheriff, hoping to mend his fractured relationship with his estranged brother and rebuild his life. But when a chilling murder occurs at Sentinel Rocks, a sacred Makah site on Lake Prophet, Gabriel’s dreams of peace and reconciliation are shattered.

Gabriel navigates a web of intrigue, where suspects abound; from local tribal elders to fervent Solstice worshippers and even those hunting the elusive Big Foot. When the brutal murder leaves Duke, a loyal Labrador retriever, as the sole witness, Gabriel stumbles upon an unexpected ally—a local animal behaviorist named Tiber.

Tiber, a newcomer to Prophet, seeks refuge in this remote haven, attempting to escape his own inner demons. Armed with his extraordinary ability to communicate with animals, he offers his expertise through video consultations, helping pet owners with their beloved companions. While he attributes his skill to his academic background, his intuition and flashes of insight owe as much to his Navajo heritage as to science.

With the relentless rain washing away sins and good intentions alike, Gabriel and Tiber must begin to confront their own vulnerabilities and unravel the truth.

Sanctuary

Guarding Morgan (Sanctuary, 1)

Morgan Drake witnesses a murder in an alleyway. He is the only person who can give evidence in prosecuting the cop responsible for the crime. When the FBI safe house where he’s being held is compromised, he follows the instructions of his agent in charge and runs.

Nik Valentinov works for Sanctuary, a foundation that offers witness protection when FBI security is questionable.

When Morgan's handler sends him to Nik for safety, neither Morgan nor Nik could imagine that two weeks alone in a cabin in the woods could start something more. Something way more than just trying to keep Morgan alive. Something that makes their heart race more than danger. Love.

Guarding Morgan

The Only Easy Day

Face Value

Still Waters

Full Circle

The Journal Of Sanctuary One

Worlds Collide

Accidental Hero

Ghost

By the Numbers

Sanctuary Box Set Volume 1 (Books 1-5)

Montana

Crooked Tree Ranch

The Rancher’s Son

A Cowboy’s Home

Snow In Montana

Second Chance Ranch

Montana Sky

Crooked Tree Ranch (Montana 1)

The cowboy, the man from the city, and the ranch where hate turns to love, and family is everything.

Amidst the chaos of his crumbling life, Jay seizes the opportunity to apply for a marketing role at a dude ranch in Montana. Leaving New York behind, he embarks on a fresh start at Crooked Tree Ranch. However, the infuriating cowboy who constantly challenges him begins to stir up more than just frustration. Falling for the gruff cowboy shocks Jay, but when kisses turn to more, could love be possible?

Nate, a former rodeo star and the ranch's foreman, has been shouldering the responsibility for five years after his mentor fell ill. Encouraged by his brothers and determined to keep the ranch thriving, Nate realizes the necessity of bringing in an expert to propel the business forward. Yet, when the new arrival arrives with a troubled family, Nate is caught off guard by the magnitude of the challenges they bring. As he and Jay work together to transform the ranch, Nate finds himself unexpectedly drawn to the charming city guy.

Against the backdrop of the Montana mountains and in saving Crooked Tree Ranch, Nate and Jay fall in love, one kiss at a time. 

Crooked Tree Ranch | The Rancher’s Son | A Cowboy’s Home | Snow In Montana | Second Chance Ranch | Montana Sky

Hockey from RJ Scott & VL Locey

When hockey wunderkind Tennant Rowe meets his new coach, he knows he’s in trouble. Jared Madsen is nine years older than Tennant, impossibly attractive, and — worst of all — his brother’s off-limits best friend. Is their chemistry worth the risk?

Changing Lines (Railers 1)

Can Tennant show Jared that age is just a number, and that love is all that matters?

The Rowe Brothers are famous hockey hotshots, but as the youngest of the trio, Tennant has always had to play against his brothers’ reputations. To get out of their shadows, and against their advice, he accepts a trade to the Harrisburg Railers, where he runs into Jared Madsen. Mads is an old family friend and his brother’s one-time teammate. Mads is Tennant’s new coach. And Mads is the sexiest thing he’s ever laid eyes on.

Jared Madsen’s hockey career was cut short by a fault in his heart, but coaching keeps him close to the game. When Ten is traded to the team, his carefully organized world is thrown into chaos. Nine years his junior and his best friend’s brother, he knows Ten is strictly off-limits, but as soon as he sees Ten’s moves, on and off the ice, he knows that his heart could get him into trouble again.

Changing Lines

All hockey romance from RJ Scott & VL Locey

Harrisburg Railers (Hockey Romance)

Changing Lines | First Season | Deep Edge | Poke Check | Last Defense | Goal Line | Neutral Zone | Hat Trick | Save The Date | Baby Makes Three | Rivals | Perfect Gifts | Family First

Railers Volume 1 | Railers Volume 2 | Railers Volume 3 | Railers Volume 4

Owatonna U Hockey (Hockey Romance)

Ryker | Scott | Benoit | Christmas Lights | Valentine’s Hearts | Desert Dreams

Arizona Raptors (Hockey Romance)

Coast To Coast | Across the Pond | Shadow and Light | Sugar and Ice | School and Rock

Boston Rebels

Lost In Boston (Free Novella) | Top Shelf | Back Check | Snowed | Royal Lines | Blade | Rental

LA Storm

Script | Second | Shield | Spiral

Chesterford Coyotes

Off The Ice | On Thin Ice | Dance on Ice

Christmas stories

The Wishing Tree - Small Town Romance, silken kink

Stop the Wedding - Best friends to lovers, stop the wedding

Cupcakes and Christmas - Reality TV, opposites attract

Love Happens Anyway - Fake boyfriend for Christmas

The Christmas Throwaway - A young man thrown out of his home before Christmas for being gay

Christmas Prince - A prince, a castle, and the magic of Christmas

Dallas Christmas - Hockey Romance, closeted, second chance

Jesse’s Christmas - Grinch ends up in the best ever Christmas town

New York Christmas - Second chance romance in New York

The Road to Frosty Hollow - Road trip, best friends brother

Angel in a Book Shop - Magical, book store, love across the centuries, waiting for love

Seth & Casey - teacher/firefighter, trapped in snowstorm - less Christmas and more snow!

Free Reads

FREE READS

You can also find free stories on my website

Meet RJ Scott

RJ discovered romance in books at a very young age and realized that if there wasn’t romance on the page, she could create it in her head. With over one hundred and fifty books published, she is a full time author of gay romance.

She lives and works out of her home in the beautiful English countryside, spends her spare time reading, watching films, and enjoying time with her family.

The last time she had a week’s break from writing she didn't like it one little bit and has yet to meet a box of chocolates she couldn’t defeat.

www.rjscott.co.uk | rj@rjscott.co.uk

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