Talk Me Down (3 page)

“Molly…” Good God. “I don’t suppose you’re just staying for the winter, are you?”

She pulled back and frowned. “No, why?”

“No reason. I’ve gotta go. Get a real car and check the flue before you fire up the woodstove. Bye.”

“Thank you, Officer!” she called as he rushed for the door.

The cold air slapped him back to reality as soon as he stepped outside. Ben slammed the door behind him and made himself stop rushing. He rolled his shoulders and set his jaw.

Yes, Molly had grown up into a hot woman, but she was still off-limits. Nothing had changed.
Nada.

He was almost to his truck when a white pickup approached from the west. It slowed, coming nearly to a stop before it rolled by Ben’s truck. Through the window, Ben spied the gawking, wrinkled face of Miles Webster, proprietor of the town’s biweekly newspaper, if one could call it that.

“Shit,” Ben whispered.

He met Miles’s eyes, careful not to show trepidation or guilt.
You’ve got nothing on me, old man,
he transmitted through his gaze. Then the man’s eyes shifted, and Ben followed, turning to look toward Molly’s house.

There she stood, waving, framed like a picture in the doorway, the early morning light glowing off her bare legs.

“Oh,
shit,
” Ben groaned.

Miles offered a smug grin when Ben turned back, then he sped off in a cloud of diesel fumes.

Ben had managed to stay out of the paper’s gossip section for thirty-two years. Come Thursday that was going to change.

And if there was anything he hated more than secrets, it was scandal.

A serious, hard-jawed cowboy.
No, wait.
A sheriff.
Not in a mountain town though. She’d made that mistake before. She would use Ben Lawson again, but only for inspiration this time, not as the flesh-and-blood man made into fantasy.

Her first story, the one that had made her into a star, the one that still sold better than any of her other books…that had been far too close for comfort. She’d written about Ben, about
that
night. She’d even identified him as the best friend of the heroine’s older brother. In a small mountain town. In Colorado. Then suddenly her first attempt at erotic fiction had been sold, published, and read by thousands…and it was far too personal. She couldn’t tell anyone what she’d done.

The big secret of her life had been entirely accidental, but she supposed it was for the best. She had a wonderful career that she loved, a decent income, and a little mystery to go along with her boring life. And now she had her muse back.

That first book had been her most inspired, but she had a feeling she could make this one even hotter. She was older and wiser and she had a few good ideas of what she’d like to do with a certain hard-jawed police chief.

“Sheriff,” she corrected herself. “A sheriff in a Wild West town with dark brown eyes and a heart of steel. And maybe some kinky needs he just can’t satisfy with the God-fearing women of the county.”

Molly giggled in guilty delight. Oh, yeah.
The sheriff is a lonely man until a mysterious widow moves in next door. A widow who leaves her curtains open at night, lamps blazing. Even an angel would be tempted to watch the show, and the sheriff is far from angelic. But indecent exposure is a crime, and the lawman is determined to make her pay with his own special kind of private discipline.

She pictured Ben in his jeans—unbuttoned—and his black cowboy hat tilted low over his face, and nothing else.

“This,” Molly murmured as she typed the first few words, “is going to be good.”

That couldn’t be right. Sure, she’d started some mystery career during college, and plenty of good, nice, college girls had been sucked into dancing for money, but it still couldn’t be right. There were no strip clubs up here. Whatever she was doing, she had to be able to do it from home. Stripping was good money, but she couldn’t have saved enough to retire at twenty-seven.

Unless she was one of those headliners who traveled the country and got paid big bucks to dance at the best clubs. Maybe he shouldn’t have crossed it off so quickly.

Or maybe he’d seen too many HBO specials in his life.

Ben threw the pen onto the flimsy newspaper open on his desk and turned back to the computer to search for her on Google one last time. His name was there in black and white in the weekly rag, right next to hers. He wanted to find out her secret before Miles Webster did.

Good old Miles had ruined Ben’s high school years. Or more accurately, Ben’s father had ruined those years, and Miles Webster had gleefully magnified each painful moment, drawing out the scandal until every last detail—true or not—had been reported.

Ben had hated Miles for years, perhaps because it had been so hard to hate his own father. Hard, but not necessarily impossible. Not for a teenager anyway.

Still, he’d worked through all that, or thought he had, but seeing his name in Miles’s gossip column was burning a hole in his gut.

What a fiasco. He was going to have to avoid her like the plague, at least until he figured out her secret. What if she’d been a prostitute, for God’s sake?

“You’ve lost your mind,” he muttered to himself. He was not going to let Miles drive him crazy again. He was an adult now, not some tortured kid.

“Chief?” Brenda asked from the doorway. “You’re not upset about that column, are you?”

“No.” Ben closed the Google screen and reopened the report he was supposed to be working on.

“He’s got no right to gossip about you when you’re doing your job.”

“It’s nothing, Brenda. I was just doing a favor for a friend. No big deal.”

She nodded, but her eyebrows fit together like two puzzle pieces. “How’s Molly Jennings holding up?”

“Fine.”

“I suppose she’s…” Brenda tapped her fingernails together and shrugged. “She must be real different after living in the city so long.”

Different. Ben frowned at his computer. Yeah, she was different.

“Chief?”

“What?” He glanced up just in time to catch Brenda shaking her head as she headed back toward her desk by the front door.

Disgusted with himself, Ben forced his mind back to his Monday duties. He reviewed the report he’d finally finished, then sent it off to the Creek County Sheriff’s office. They kept in close coordination so Sheriff McTeague didn’t have to waste time patrolling this part of the county. If anything needed his attention, Ben got in touch. If Ben needed something—rescue equipment or a search party—the sheriff volunteered it.

A few minutes later, the sheriff’s own report popped up on the screen and Ben took a half hour to go over the whole thing. Nothing out of the ordinary. A few accidents. One dead moose in the middle of the highway. Two DUIs. Domestic incidents.

Ben memorized the names involved and printed out the document to add to his files. Done.

A weather alert popped to life on his screen and Ben scanned it quickly, then breathed a sigh of relief. The first big snowstorm of the season, but it looked like they’d only catch the edge of it. Good thing, since it was supposed to hit on Halloween night. The poor kids around here had a hard enough time with the steep streets, sloped lawns and ancient, icy steps leading to every door. And the teenagers would have the inevitable party—the same Halloween party every generation had had in this town for forty years—and Ben didn’t want them driving home in a whiteout.

With a reluctant smile, Ben thought of the costume party he’d been to when he was sixteen, the last one they’d managed to throw in one of the old mines. Damn, that had been a good one, complete with strip poker and smuggled tequila. And he was darn glad it’d been the last. The idea of a party in an abandoned silver mine had been exciting as hell as a kid, but it scared the shit out of him now.

Ben made a mental note to go check the locks on all the mine gates sometime in the next four days. A drunk kid falling down a mine shaft would haunt him for the rest of his life.

“Chief, I’m heading out to lunch,” Brenda interrupted.

“I’ll walk you out. It’s time for my patrol.” He grabbed his hat and, with a glance out his small window, reached for his quilted uniform coat as well. Snow or not, a cold front had moved in with a vengeance. “You haven’t heard anything about the old mines, have you? I thought I’d better check the gates before Halloween. Remember that last bash when we were kids?”

Brenda’s face blossomed into a rare smile that made her pale blue eyes sparkle. “Well, I don’t know what you remember, but my night ended when Jess Germaine threw up all over my new boots.”

“That’s right. I had to take both of you home, then go wash out my dad’s truck.”

“You always were a gentleman.”

Ben opened the door and gestured her through with a wink. Brenda was laughing as she passed him, but when he tried to follow he walked right into her back.

“Sorry. Is something—”

“Hi!” Molly said to both of them from the bottom of the steps.

Ben nudged Brenda to get her to move out of the doorway and down the three steps to the sidewalk. Molly grinned up at them, a pink, fuzzy hat pulled low over her ears. Her wool coat was feminine and way too white to be practical, but at least it was warm.

“Hey, lovah,” she said to Ben. “I hear we’re a hot item. You move fast for a big man.”

He stumbled on the last step—the cement must have buckled this summer—and had to lock his knees to keep from falling.

“That’s not funny,” Brenda said. “Chief Lawson hates gossip.”

“Oh, I’m—Oh.” Molly grimaced. “I totally forgot about that. Sorry.”

Ben shook his head. “No big deal. Brenda, I’ll see you when I get back.”

Brenda hurried off, glancing back to scowl in Molly’s direction more than once.

Molly watched her go. “
Brenda?
Oh my God, is that Brenda White? She looks just like her…um, never mind. Wasn’t she in your class?”

“Yes.” Ben scanned the block, looking for Miles’s old pickup.

“Ben, I’m sorry. I forgot about that thing with your dad. I didn’t mean to get you into Miles’s column.”

“Not your fault.” Great, now she was feeling sorry for him. “It’s really no big deal. That was a long time ago.”

Her face brightened, eyes sparkling once more, and Ben was shocked again at how different she was. The same, almost, but more. No longer hesitant or self-conscious, she practically oozed assurance, as if the constant flow of people in the city had burnished her to a lovely glow.

She’d braided her hair into two little pigtails that followed the line of her long neck. She looked soft there…really soft.

“Sooo…” she said. “I was just coming over to tease you about the paper, but now I want to see the station.” She looked behind him toward the double doors.

“It looks the same as it did ten years ago.”

“Well, I don’t know what you were doing with
your
youth, Ben, but I never saw the inside of the police station. I was a good girl.”

Jesus. He successfully fought off the blush this time, which was a great relief. She seemed to take joy in embarrassing him.

Ben opened his mouth to explain that he was leaving and couldn’t give her a tour, but then he noticed that her nose was beginning to resemble the color of her hat. She clasped her pink-mittened hands together and blew against them.

“All right. Come in.” He waved her up and followed behind her. Yes, her ass looked perfectly perky in tight jeans. Round and succulent. Two little globes of—

“Off-limits,” he whispered. When Molly looked back at him, he just shook his head.

Ben gestured toward the oversize front desk. “During the summer, the station’s always manned. But in the winter, it’s just us locals. Everyone knows where to find Brenda at lunchtime.”

“Do you guys only work half-time during winter?”

“No, we have an Aspen officer who works here during the summer. It works out perfectly because they need her for their busy season, then when the pass opens in spring, she commutes here for a few months, and the rest of us get to work full-time during the slow season.”

“Quinn said there’s a lot more traffic through here than there used to be.”

Ben nodded. “The mountain biking has really taken off. The rafting companies expanded to include biking and bought more buses. They take the riders and their bikes up to the top of the trail, then meet them back at the bottom to do it again. Helluva way to break your neck, if you ask me.”

“Professor Logic as always.”

“God, no one’s called me that since your parents moved away.” He led the way back, giving cursory explanations. “My office.” He waved into a small, plain room with a neat desk. “The other offices.” A larger room with three desks crammed into it. “Holding cell.”

“Whoa,
this
is your jail?” She walked up to the big metal door to look through the thick glass window. Nothing very interesting, just a toilet and sink and cot.

“It’s just a holding cell. Anyone we place under arrest gets put over in the county lockup.”

“So who’s this for?”

“Minor violators.”

She glanced back to find him watching her closely.

He raised an eyebrow. “Girls who block snowy streets with their tiny, useless, stranded cars even after they’ve been warned by the police.”

“Ha!” She turned and stepped closer to him, happy when he backed up into the wall. “I’ll be nimble as a little bunny. You’ll see.”

“I do have experience in this kind of—”

“Oh, I know you have experience, Chief. But I’m no beginner, either.”

Clearing his throat, Ben pushed off the wall and headed back toward the front. Unfortunately his coat hid most of his butt, but she could still appreciate the movement of his hard thighs and the tempting sight of the nape of his neck beneath his hat. “Thanks for wearing the cowboy hat for me, Ben.”

The neck turned pink. “It’s part of my uniform, Molly,” he growled.

She was almost positive he was more than a little interested in her, but she suddenly had the fear that his blushes were more the “just leave me alone” kind than the “you’re hot, don’t tease me” variation. He’d always been quiet and almost shy, until he loosened up and got funny. So was this shyness or interest? How to find out?

Well, she’d always believed in the shortest route. “My brother says you’re single.”

Ben stopped so quickly that Molly reached out to stop herself from bumping into him. Her hand connected with a rock-solid back. When he turned, she felt muscles shifting even under the heavy coat, and then, instead of her hand resting on his back, her arm was actually curled around his waist, her hip touching his. Even Molly was startled at how she’d just made herself at home.

He raised a meaningful eyebrow at her arm until she removed it.

“Accident. Sorry. I swear I’m not a hussy.” The word hussy made her laugh until she snorted, and Ben’s eyes crinkled a little in amusement.

“Look, Molly. I think you’re cute. And I am single. But it’s a small town, you know? Too complicated.”

“Too complicated? Really? Jeez, you’re a real live wire, Professor.”

“Come on. You know how it is.”

“I was only trying to finagle a date.
A date.
I promise not to chain you to the basement stairs.”

“I don’t date women in Tumble Creek.”

“Seriously?” Yes, he was probably being serious. He’d always been too logical for his own good. “Come on, Ben. What do you do, fly north when the days get longer? Do you have a set migration route or do you have a different set of stops each year?”

“I…It’s complicated.”

“Huh. I’ll say.” She brushed past him, making sure to inhale his scent when she got close. Mmm. Cold air and forests. Nothing complicated about that. He reached past to open the door and his chest brushed her back. Nice. She wasn’t giving up that easy.

Grinning, she walked down the uneven steps and waited for him at the bottom. “It’s not complicated,” she finally said. “I promise you I’m a simple girl.”

He didn’t look as if he believed her. It probably didn’t help that a man across the street started shouting her name.
Please don’t let it be one of Cameron’s boys,
she prayed as she turned toward the sound of a car door slamming.

“Molly Jennings, is that you? I was just on my way to your house.” Mr. Randolph was heading for his trunk.

“Hi there, Mr. Randolph.”

He popped the trunk, then reappeared with a big vase of roses. “These are for you.”

“Oh, good God,” she groaned, though she did manage to paste a smile on her face.

The flowers bounced jauntily in the man’s arms as he jogged across the street. “Two dozen roses. This young man must think real highly of you.” Mr. Randolph shifted the flowers to one hand, fumbling for the note. “Was it Devlin or Evan?” He patted around for his reading glasses.

“Devon,” Molly snapped, reaching for the damn flowers. She caught the smirk on Ben’s mouth and sent him a glare.

“Simple, huh?” he muttered. “Just another Denver guy, Molly?”

“Yes. He’s a friend. From Denver.”

Mr. Randolph exploded with laughter, totally overdoing it in Molly’s opinion. “A friend! Ha! Those are long stems. Forty dollars a dozen. What’ve you been up to down in Denver, Ms. Jennings?”

“Nothing.”

“You one of them rich business women?”

“No.” She tried to leave it at that, but Mr. Randolph just waited, his rheumy blue eyes staring hard. Molly sighed. She’d been through this before. She knew the easy way out. “I do some sensitive work for a tech company. Nothing exciting though.”

“A techie, huh? Well, congratulations on the flowers. I’ll be seeing you around. Good to have you back.”

“Thank you, Mr. Randolph.”

She watched him go, ignoring the burning sensation at the back of her neck. The older man waved and disappeared into his flower, gift and fly-fishing shop, leaving Molly with no choice but to turn around and meet Ben’s hard eyes.

“So you work for a tech company.”

“No.”

“Then you’re a liar.”

“Yes. I’ve found it’s a lot easier than the truth.”

“The truth being?”

“That I don’t discuss my work with anyone.”

He rocked back on his heels a little, looking her up and down with a suspicious glare. “And why is that, Molly?”

“That’s none of your business. Plus it’s complicated, and I know how you hate complications.”

Ben didn’t look any friendlier at that. In fact, Molly felt an undignified urge to squirm under his examination and blurt out a false confession. When he put his hands on his hips, she could see his big gun, and not the big gun she was interested in, either. She clutched the flowers hard to her chest.

“I won’t have anything illegal going on here.”

“I’m not—”

“Is that clear?”

“Jeez Louise, Ben!” She threw up one hand and waved it in frustration. “Who do you think I am?”

He looked her up and down one more time, sweeping her body with little tingles. “I have no idea anymore.”

“I’m just Molly Jennings, all grown up. And hopefully charming as hell.”

“It shouldn’t be any mystery to you why I don’t appreciate the excitement of a secret life. I wouldn’t date a woman who kept half her life hidden, even if I wanted to.”

“Do you want to?”

He only gave her a frown, so with a little groan of defeat, Molly gave up. “All right, I’m leaving. Bye.” She turned up the sidewalk and headed toward her house, but she couldn’t resist one last attempt. “But I will be at The Bar tonight,” she called back. “Maybe I’ll see you there.”

A blast of cold wind kicked up and drowned out his reply. If he’d made one.

The breeze carried the scent of snow and pine and crisp, gold aspen leaves. Molly smiled despite Ben Lawson and his ridiculousness. Fall had always been her favorite season, and nothing was better than fall in the mountains. Dry leaves tumbled down the narrow street, scraping and tapping the blacktop. Clumps of red berries clung to leafless bushes, bobbing in time to the gusts. On the steep hill above town, groves of bright yellow leaves quaked against a backdrop of green pines so dark they were nearly black.

She couldn’t believe it had been ten years since she’d come home. But when she’d left for college—after hiding out from Ben for the last three weeks of summer—her parents had sold the feed store, packed up the family home, and moved to St. George, Utah (“Just like Santa Fe! Only less crowded and snooty”).

Her brother lived mostly in Aspen, and she visited him a couple times a year, but other than that…Her world had been in Denver. But not anymore. Unless she needed new clothes.

Tumble Creek was her home again, and if Ben Lawson wanted nothing to do with her that was fine. There was no history between them; she certainly wasn’t in love with the man. Okay, maybe she’d had a crush on him for a few years. And maybe she’d spent more than a few years fantasizing about his lean, strong body and big, sure hands. But she would take care of that the same way she always did.

Molly picked up the pace and hurried toward home.