On the Corner of Heartache and Hopeful--MIC (10 page)

EXCERPT

"SON OF A BITCH!"

Evie
Asher swerved to avoid the fallen tree, only to feel the sedan jerk as the
front tires sank six inches into the mud off the side of what only the most
charitable of lunatics would call a road. It was only mid-afternoon, but the
thunderclouds and sheets of rain had darkened the October day to twilight and
turned the dirt road into sludge. Ten minutes and spinning wheels confirmed her
rotten bad luck – stuck fast.

Fucking perfect
,
Evie
thought, and slammed her hand against the steering
wheel, instantly regretting it as splinters of pain shot up her aching arm to
the newly healed scar tissue in her shoulder and side. She had ignored the
sling for the trip from New York, finding it awkward to drive one-handed, but
after ten hours, even
Evie's
legendary stamina was
giving out and her whole left side was one big, burning ache.

She squinted through the
rain-slicked windshield at the split road ahead and considered her options. If
memory served, her grandmother's cabin was about a mile up the right fork. The
nearest neighbors were the Daniels, a half mile down the opposite fork.
Evie
had a vague recollection of her grandmother taking her
to visit Martha Daniels, who smelled of lemon and clean linen, cooing over her
and wishing she'd had a little girl of her own. It was a nice memory, one of
Evie's
last good ones before her life went to hell. She
wondered if Mrs. Daniels would remember her fondly or if disapproval would fill
her eyes when she opened the door. If
Evie
were
lucky, she wouldn't remember her at all.
Evie
had
changed, grown up miraculously in one piece, and remade her life as a tough and
capable member of the NYPD, until a month ago, when two bullets knocked her out
of commission and her monumentally bad relationship decision had blown up in
her face.
Apparently the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

The discovery that her grandmother
had left her the property in
Bright’s
Ferry, despite
everything, had been a welcome surprise. There was a chance the gossip hadn't
spread this far.
Bright’s
Ferry was about as rural as
one could get, tucked against a secluded New England bay, quiet, a good spot to
start over. Unless, of course, your parents were at the center of the biggest
town scandal in decades. Still, it had been twenty years, and
Evie
had nowhere else to go.

Maybe this time it will stick,
she
thought with a sigh.

At the very least, Martha and Hank
Daniels would let her use the phone to call the town's lone garage. It was the
good human thing to do, regardless of whatever news about her might have made
it back to them.

Evie
checked her cell phone, unsurprised at the lack of bars, and shoved it into her
backpack. There was no way around it, she was going to get soaked.
Evie
Asher had never waited around to be rescued, and she
wasn't about to start now. She took a quick glance around the car, reached for
the door handle, and then stopped.

You don't need the gun,
she
reminded her inner cop, who grumbled.

A brief hesitation and
Evie
opened the glove compartment, grabbed her 9mm, and
awkwardly shrugged into her shoulder holster, gasping in pain. She immediately
felt better when the weight of the weapon settled into its customary place, and
cautiously eased her
hoodie
on.

One more hour,
she promised
herself,
One
more hour and you'll be soaking
in a hot bath, drinking a nice pinot, and reading about the dark-eyed
Sabatino
doing deliciously illicit things to his
Contessa
on the library floor.

She hefted the backpack onto her
good side and stepped out into the rain.

SHIVERING AND COMPLETELY DRENCHED,
Evie
dropped her backpack on the Daniels' porch. It was a
beautiful hundred-year-old farmhouse that was obviously in the process of being
restored - scaffolding protected what looked like a new wing off the side of
the two-story structure.
Evie
spared a quick glance
around, but her teeth were starting to chatter.

Fingers tight with cold,
Evie
raised a hand to knock.

Nothing.

Come on, come on.

Someone had to be home, judging
from the sporty little SUV in the driveway sitting behind a more utilitarian
truck. The lights blazed with beckoning warmth and the smoky scent of a
fireplace teased her with promises of heat and comfort.

She knocked harder, kicking the
door for good measure, stumbling back as it jerked open.

"What the hell, Tom? Can't a
guy take one Sunday afternoon – ”

He broke off abruptly, hazel eyes
widening.

Evie
tried to form words, but her brain inconveniently chose that moment to shut
down, obviously overloaded by impending hypothermia and the sight of six plus
feet of bare, tanned muscle standing in the doorway, clutching a blanket around
his waist with lean, elegant hands. His skin had a light sheen of sweat and his
dark hair was ruffled over those bright hazel eyes.

Hot.

Even the inner cop whimpered and
she gave it a mental shove.

Pull it together, Asher.

"I'm so sorry to bother you,
but I was looking for Mr. or Mrs. Daniels – ”

His brows snapped together with a
frown.

"They're dead. For the last
five years. Car accident."

"I’m sorry, I didn't know. I
was headed to the old Asher cabin down the road and my car got stuck."

"You were trying to get out
there in this?"

Incredulous, he gestured and the
blanket slipped just a bit, exposing another inch of taut waist and a narrow
pelt of dark hair under his navel that arrowed downward in a most interesting
manner.

Evie
swallowed and kept her eyes on his.

"I just need a phone to call
the garage, if that's okay."

"Colin?" The breathy
voice drifting down the hall had
Evie's
face heating
in a blush, despite her shivers, as her brain stuttered back into working
order.

Two cars in the driveway,
panting sex god in the doorway. Way to go, Asher. You just cock-blocked your
new neighbor.

Said sex god muttered something
that sounded suspiciously like,
"Fucking hell,"
and stepped
back to open the door.

"Give me five minutes and I'll
take you myself."      

"You don't have to do that,
really."

She wavered slightly as she stepped
into the warmth of the house, closing her eyes for a moment as heat curled
around her frozen limbs and she shuddered in reaction.

“Colin.”

The voice was less breathy and more
annoyed, and
Evie
caught a glimpse of a buxom blonde
in a blue lace confection at the top of the stairs. It looked uncomfortable,
but
Evie
supposed it wasn't designed to be worn for
long. The woman's silicone breasts were clearly trying to make a strategic
escape to avoid chafing.

“Wait here while I get some clothes
on.”  He pointed toward a living room, where a fire crackled merrily in
the fireplace and the remains of a romantic interlude were strewn on the coffee
table – half a bottle of wine, a couple of glasses.

“It’s really not necessary – ”

The sex god paused at the foot of
the stairs, impatient.

“Pete Jackson runs the garage by
himself, and I’m pretty sure he’s got his hands full helping other stranded
drivers crazy enough to be out in this mess. I’m not going to make him drop
everything to come all the way out here when I can have you over at the Asher
cabin in fifteen minutes. Okay?”

Evie
started to retort, then shut her mouth and nodded. She was cranky, wet, and
still freezing. If there was ever a time to make her Type-A tendencies take
five, this was it. Her half-naked knight in shining blanket turned his back on
her and headed up the stairs, treating her to the sight of the strong curve of
his spine and more slabs of muscle leading down to what was no doubt a
perfectly sculpted ass.

Evie
squelched the long-dormant lust-circuits that sparked to life and made a
bee-line for the fireplace.

           
“I’M BEING PUNISHED,” COLIN muttered as he pulled on jeans in front of a
seriously pissed off Deirdre Small. She was busily covering up those bombshell
curves she had been so busily baring for him just a little while ago.

           
Sorry, old buddy,
he thought to his poor, neglected cock.

           
“I knew this wasn’t going to happen.”

           
“Come on, Deirdre, this will only take a few minutes. Then I’ll be back and we
can – ”

           
“I’m not in the mood anymore.”

           
Fully dressed, she glared at him with icy baby blues.

           
“Last week it was that meeting for the Harvest Festival, and the week before it
was the high school pep rally, and the week before that it was that stupid Town
Hall meeting that went over by like, six hours. It’s always something, Colin!”

           
“I’m the mayor, Deirdre, remember? You were at the swearing-in?”

           
“Well, I didn’t realize that meant you were never going to fuck me again! You
work twenty-four hours a day and now you’re leaving me to go help some stranded
tourist?”

           
“I couldn’t just leave her out there. What do you want me to do?”

           
“Get your priorities straight, Mr. Mayor.”

           
Fluffing her blond curls, she disappeared into the bathroom and slammed the
door.

           
Colin sighed and reached for his boots. Deirdre had always been something of a
drama queen, but she was eager and available and more interested in his body
than in any long-term relationship. Unfortunately, in recent weeks, the sex –
when his schedule actually opened up enough to permit such a thing – had become
a little boring. Colin couldn’t quite pinpoint the problem. She was hot,
uninhibited, and always let him take charge. Lately, it just left him a
little…uninspired.

           
He pulled on a sweater and grabbed a clean sweatshirt from a drawer before
reaching for his keys and heading back downstairs. Maybe once he took care of
his clueless half-drowned guest, Deirdre would be back in the mood to help him
burn off some of the stress he’d built up in the six weeks since he’d become
mayor of
Bright’s
Ferry. Colin sighed, knowing she’d
be out the door by the time his truck cleared the driveway. Irritation sizzled
through him and he decided to place the blame squarely on the crazy woman
downstairs.

           
“I thought you might want – ”

           
Colin stepped into the living room and stopped short, awareness prickling along
every nerve ending.
Talk about inspiration.

           
His guest was standing in front of the fireplace, eyes closed, mouth
dropped open in pleasure as she absorbed the heat. Her hair was drying to long
ribbons of rich brown, and she’d removed the soaked
hoodie
to reveal a white tank top that lovingly hugged a curvy, compact little body
and sweet breasts that would fit his hands to perfection. Colin drank in every
line, feeling a little like a voyeur, and then frowned as his eyes landed on
the bandages that covered one shoulder and spread down her side.

           
The frown deepened at the sight of the gun in the shoulder holster, lying on
the coffee table.

           
“I hope you have a permit for that.”

           
She looked up as he spoke, her clear gray eyes wide, framed by thick lashes.
Her face was devoid of makeup, and she nervously licked a lush lower lip.

           
“I’m a cop. That is, I was a cop.”

           
God, she’s pretty.
He hadn’t noticed before, but now she was warm and
dry, with firelight licking along those sweet curves. The hard punch of lust
surprised him, settling low in his abdomen. He struggled to focus on more
important things.

           
“What happened?” He gestured at her bandages.

           
“It’s nothing.” She reached for her soaked
hoodie
,
grimacing in distaste.

           
“Here.” Colin stepped forward with the sweatshirt, and for a moment it looked
like she was going to turn it down. “Come on, I’m just trying to be helpful.”

           
“I don’t need help.”

           
His skepticism must have shown on his face because she had the grace to blush
and snatch the sweatshirt from his hands. For a moment, Colin watched her try
to pull it over her head, jostling her bad side as little as possible, and
trying to smother the little gasps of pain when she moved the wrong way.
Rolling his eyes, he stepped forward and carefully untangled her from the
fabric. She stiffened immediately. Colin worked on keeping his hands to
himself, though his fingers tingled at the accidental brush of soft skin at her
waist where her tank rode up. He stepped back.

           
“Thanks,” she murmured grudgingly, “I’m
Evie
.”

           
The sweatshirt bagged on her, covering her to her thighs and slipping off one
shoulder as she reached out a hand. Something hot moved through Colin at the
sight of her wrapped in his clothes, but he shook it off and enveloped her hand
in his, noting the firm grip and graceful fingers.

           
“Colin Daniels. Welcome to
Bright’s
Ferry.”