A Wedding Worth Waiting For (16 page)

Her pulse sped—this was the most dangerous moment. She was going to have to make contact and hope no one decided it was open season on wildlife officers. Every recruit knew stories of those that had been killed in the line of duty and Sam had no desire to become the next cautionary tale. But she also wasn't going to let her natural nerves keep her from her duty to uphold the law.

Hand on her weapon, she eased out of the tree cover and announced herself. “Hey, what do you have there?”

The man closest to the door turned, and her stomach sank. It was Beau, the man she'd bested at the shooting range. She'd liked him, damn it. Now she was going to have to arrest him. So much for being a good judge of character.

“Hey, Beau, good to see you again.” Better to keep things friendly if she could, but inside her temper was rising. He'd lied to her face, and she'd believed every word.

“Officer Finley.” He nodded politely, his eyes darting to the man still standing inside the garage.

“And who's your friend here?”

“Oh, that's Donald, but he's not my friend, ma'am. I just met him today, over at the diner.”

“Uh-huh. That true, Donald?”

The other man nodded, fear in his eyes. Fear wasn't good; people who were scared did dumb things. “Can you come over here, Donald, so we can chat without me having to shout? I don't want to annoy the neighbors, and it just doesn't feel friendly when I have to yell across the room, you know?”

“Um, okay.” He stepped closer, and she got a better look at him. He was short and thin, not much older than herself. Late twenties, maybe? He had a thin, wispy excuse for a mustache under a pointed nose, and mousy brown hair that was already thinning at the temples. His tank top and dirty jeans were spattered with blood from the deer he'd begun butchering, as was the knife on the table.

“Thanks, Donald. I appreciate it.” She smiled, wanting to put him at ease. An arrest was going to happen, but the easy way was a lot nicer than the hard way, for everyone involved. “You've got a nice setup here. I can tell you really know what you're doing.”

Some of the tension went out of his shoulders—everyone liked to be told they were doing a good job, even when what they were doing was against the law. “Thanks, I found some videos online about how to rig up everything.”

“Well, you did great. Unfortunately, given that deer season hasn't quite started yet, I'm going to have to charge you guys. You know that, right?”

Donald hung his head. “Yeah, I know. I just figured it was only a few weeks away, so it wasn't that big a deal. And my mom's been sick, and with me being out of work right now, the extra meat would come in handy.”

“I hear you, but I'm afraid that doesn't excuse you from following the law. There are reasons we have limits on when and how you can hunt. As for the meat, that will be seized, and donated to a local charity.”

“What? Oh, man. What about the antlers? I was going to hang that rack on my wall.”

“Those are evidence, too, I'm sorry.”

The man scuffed a worn shoe in the dirt, clearly more upset over the loss of his trophy than the loss of the meat. Probably because he had a freezer-full from the doe he'd killed the other day. She'd be checking that out and having his tires compared to the tracks left at the scene. But even if she couldn't tie him to the previous incident, she had him on hunting out of season, for sure.

“All right, I'm going to need a statement about where and when you two bagged the deer, and then I'm going to look around and secure the evidence.”

Donald looked up, puzzled. “Us two? He—” he jabbed a thumb toward Beau, who'd been standing by silently in the doorway until now “—didn't shoot anything. I met him at the diner on my way home, and he asked if he could come by. Said he might be interested in buying some of the meat.”

“That true, Beau?”

“Well...yes and no. I told him I wanted some meat, but that's just so's I could check things out. I remembered what you'd said about a poacher on the island, and when I saw he was telling the truth I sent a text to my wife, asking her to call you. I'd have called myself, but I didn't want him to hear me and pack everything up.”

“Wait, the tip came from you? You're not one of the poachers?”

“Me? Heck, no. I hear they can take your guns away if you get caught poaching. It's not worth it. I can wait another few weeks. Hell, I still got meat in the freezer from last season.”

Relief washed over her. She hadn't misjudged the big man. In fact, he might have saved her job. It would be a lot harder for her boss to find fault if she had a fresh arrest to put on his desk.

“You're gonna take my guns? That can't be legal!” Donald moved closer, his face red with anger.

Sam moved her hand to her gun, resting it on the butt of the weapon. “Donald, I need you to calm down, okay? So far, this is just a hunting violation, a misdemeanor. You add in assaulting an officer, and you're looking at a felony charge and real jail time. Who's going to take care of your mom then?”

He stopped, and she could almost see the wheels turning as he thought it through. Finally, he nodded. He'd been beat, and he knew it.

By the time her backup arrived, she'd gotten statements from both men, and after she'd found a stash of fresh venison in the freezer, Donald had broken down and admitted to the poaching incident with the doe. She'd also talked a little more to Donald about some of the services available to him, and Beau had offered some of the meat from his own freezer to the younger man and his mother. “Like I said, I still got plenty left over from last year. No reason not to share it if you need it.”

Touched, she pulled him aside before he left. “I just wanted to thank you for calling in the tip, and for offering to help out Donald. You're a good guy.”

He smiled, his grizzled features looking almost friendly. “That's how we do things around here. We help each other out. He's had some hard times, and he made some mistakes, but we all do, right? The problem is when you keep doing the same fool thing over and over again.”

She mulled that over, her own choices flashing through her head. Was that her issue? Was she repeating the same “fool things,” rather than learning from them? “You know, Beau, I think maybe you're right. So thanks, for everything.”

“Like I said, around here, we help each other out. All you have to do is ask.”

* * *

Driving home under the starlit sky, Sam felt like a million tons of weight had been lifted off her shoulders. Nabbing the poacher was a large part of it, but even better, the key to solving the case had come from someone in the community. And not one of Dylan's friends, but someone she'd impressed all on her own. Earning the respect of someone like Beau meant everything, both for her job and her own confidence.

For so long, she'd been told that being a woman would make this job hard, if not impossible. Not only did people assume she wouldn't be fit enough for the day-to-day difficulties, but also underneath that they implied that the hunting and fishing community wouldn't accept her authority. She'd tried to block out the naysayers, but deep down, she'd wondered and worried if they were right. What if she wasn't good enough? What if she couldn't stay strong in the heat of the moment? What if the people she encountered refused to accept her?

The old insecurities she'd harbored as a child had found new expressions in these adult worries, but tonight, finally, she could see them for what they were. Ghosts of her past, not predictions of the future. She'd stood on her own feet today, defused a dicey situation and generally kicked butt. Which, given how hard she'd worked for this moment, shouldn't be a shock, but it was. Despite what she'd been telling herself, the person who had doubted her abilities the most wasn't her father, or Dylan, but herself.

If she'd really thought she was good enough, she would never have suggested a fake relationship with Dylan. She had been so sure she wasn't enough on her own that she'd lied just to ride on his coattails. Then, when he'd asked for more, she'd shut him down, rather than believe she had what it took to make a relationship work. She'd underestimated Dylan, the people of Paradise and most of all herself.

But no more. As Beau had said, the shame wasn't in making mistakes, but in repeating them. The unlikely philosopher's words had resonated. She could change—she didn't have to do the same “fool” things over and over again. And she'd done a lot of foolish things lately. Starting with how she'd treated Dylan. She'd blown hot and cold with him so many times it was a miracle he still spoke to her at all. He deserved more than that. Hell,
she
deserved more than that. Maybe they wouldn't work out. Maybe he wouldn't be able to handle the risks of her job. Maybe she wasn't cut out for love. But damn it, she deserved the chance to find out.

Suddenly, tomorrow seemed too long to wait. Turning off the main road, she cut through a back street and headed back the way she'd come. Dylan lived only a few streets over from where she'd arrested Donald, and within minutes she was parked in front of his house, her heart racing at the thought of what she was about to do. Or try to do. Being open about her feelings wasn't going to be easy, but if anyone was worth it, he was.

The porch light was off, but a dim light flickered behind the blinds. Holding tight to her courage, she knocked firmly on the front door and waited. From somewhere in the woods, an owl called, looking for his mate. Maybe it was a night for love.

Shuffling footsteps, and then a muttered curse filtered through the solid wood of the cabin walls. Then the lock turned and Dylan was standing there, his eyes half-closed as he rubbed his elbow.

“Hi, did I wake you?” She should have called, but this was something she needed to do in person, before she chickened out.

“Sam? What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to see you, and I was in the area...but it's late. I can just talk to you another time—”

“No, wait, don't go.” He scrubbed a hand across the stubble on his face. “I was just surprised, that's all. I was waiting up for you to call, but I guess I dozed off. Come in, please.”

Butterflies dive-bombed in her stomach, but she nodded and followed him inside. “Is your elbow okay?”

He looked down to where he was still absently rubbing it. “What? Oh, yeah. I tripped over Toby and banged it on the wall.”

The beagle wagged his tail, happy to hear his name, no matter the context.

“Oh, sorry.”

“It's fine, really.” He eased down onto the couch and muted the television with a flick of the remote. “So, what is it you wanted?”

She looked down at him, all hard lines and lean muscles, his hair mussed from sleep, his chin covered in stubble. He was the most gorgeous man she'd ever seen, had the mind of a genius and took in elderly dogs. He supported and understood her. He might even love her. And he had waited up just to hear that she was okay. He was everything she'd wanted, everything she'd been waiting for. “You. I wanted you.”

His eyes dilated, the soft ocean blue turning stormy at her words. Heat pooled inside her; she wanted this man like she'd never wanted anything before. All her hard won self-control was gone, and in its place was a burning need to touch and be touched, to love him with her body the way she'd come to love him with her heart.

Kneeling beside him on the couch, she brushed his lips with hers, getting the faintest taste of him before moving to the line of his jaw. She kept trailing kisses toward his ear as he eased her into his lap. Straddling him, she could feel his excitement, and her own doubled in response. Panting, she sat upright and worked the buttons of her shirt, exposing more flesh with each flick of her fingers.

Moaning his appreciation, Dylan traced the edge of her bra with his finger, exploring her curves, then working his way down her rib cage. She arched toward him, practically purring, every nerve lighting up with pleasure.

Parting the rough fabric of her uniform, he pushed the material down her arms and leaned in to nibble at her collarbone. Lust jolted through her, and she had to grab ahold of his shoulders to keep from falling to the floor.

Dylan stilled, his oral exploration halted, as he ran a finger along a sore spot on her neck. “What's this?”

“Hmm?” She tipped her head back, giving him better access, trying to encourage him to go back to what he'd been doing.

“This.” He probed again, and she winced. “Sam, you're bleeding. What the hell happened out there tonight?”

The harshness of his words cut through the hormones fogging her mind. Reaching up, she found a scrape about an inch long just below her ear. “It's nothing, a scratch. I'll be fine.” She leaned in to him, shifting her hips to better position herself. “Better than fine if you kiss me again.”

Instead, he lifted her off him and stood. “I'm serious, Sam. Why are you bleeding? You said you'd be safe, that you could take care of yourself, and you show up on my doorstep in the middle of the night looking like someone tried to take your head off. What the hell is going on?”

Passion flamed to anger in the space of a heartbeat. “What's going on is that I drove over here ready to tell you I love you, that I want to be with you, to make love to you. But because I scraped myself on a branch in the woods, I guess we're going to fight instead.” She buttoned her shirt, her fingers fumbling as her heart raced.

Dylan startled, then reached for her. “Damn it, Sam, I don't want to fight.”

“Neither do I.” She finished the last button and squared her shoulders. “But if you can't handle my job, if you can't handle who I am, then this isn't going to work. I know that I made you wait while I figured things out, and I know you were patient with me. So I'll give you the same courtesy. Take some time, Dylan. Figure out if this is something you really want, because I'm not going to change. I'm going to work odd hours, and come home late, and I'm going to face situations that you don't like. You're going to have to trust that I can handle myself, or this won't work. I'm finally sure of myself, and I can't be with someone who isn't.”