That lopsided smile of his curled my toes, my resolution to swear off men forgotten. And the wayJennyrolled off his tongue—soft and intimate, like there was no one in the room but him and me—almost had me licking my lips. I already liked him for not wanting to call me Jenn simply because Chad had. The man was scoring points without even trying.
He held out his hand. “I’m Dylan Conrad.”
And of course he would have a sexy name. I stared at that masculine hand with the blunt-tipped nails on the ends of his long fingers, thinking it would be a big mistake to touch him. With all the electricity sparking around us, we might ignite on contact, but he kept it there in the space between us. I glanced up to see him watching me, and the laugh lines at the corners of his eyes crinkled. It was as if he could read me and was amused.
You’re being ridiculous, Jenn. It was only a hand he was offering, not his body, which was all hard lines and muscles. The second I put my hand in his, I almost jerked it away when some kind of weird spark actually did shoot up my arm.
I think he felt it, too, because his eyes widened for a millisecond. If I hadn’t been watching him, I’d have missed his reaction. His fingers curled over mine, his touch feeling so intimate and warm that for a moment the world around me faded away. I gave a little shake of my head, banishing any interest I might have in this man. My plans wouldn’t change, even for a man with whiskey-colored eyes and a lopsided grin.
“Nice to meet you, Dylan.” I pulled my hand away. Where had I heard his name? For the life of me, I couldn’t remember.
He sent me that killer smile again, and I had the urge to rub my chest, right over where my heart had decided to skip a beat or two. The man was decidedly dangerous if he could make my heart misbehave like that. The big question: did I want to encourage him? I almost laughed at myself. Obviously banishing him from my mind hadn’t worked if I was asking that. Brandy, one of the waitresses, brought out the dinners for my two couples, and I gratefully turned my attention to her.
“Thanks, hon,” I said, getting busy filling drink orders from the waitstaff. While I mixed and shook martinis, poured carafes of wine, and uncapped bottles of locally brewed beers, I could feel Dylan’s eyes on me. I couldn’t resist adding a little sway to my hips when I walked to the other end of the bar to take a drink order.
He had to be a tourist, so no harm in a little flirtation. Whatever might or might not happen, though, took second place to adding to my travel account.
As soon as I had a sufficient amount saved, I was taking off to see the world. It had been our dream, Natalie’s and mine, for as long as I could remember, and I had a promise to keep.
We’d grown up in the valley, but my twin and I had both had wanderlust. We’d gone to Greece, the trip a graduation present from our parents. The first week had been awesome. Then my world had changed forever. I bowed my head to clear it of memories of her. This wasn’t the time or place to fall apart.
“Ready for another one?” I asked Dylan, finally turning to him once I could speak without my voice quivering. And there went that damn smile that curled my toes. It occurred to me to wonder why a man as hot as him was on vacation alone. Lots of hikers passed through Blue Ridge Valley, so maybe he planned to hike the Appalachian Trail.
“I’m good, Red.” He pulled out a ten, sticking it under the empty bottle. “See you around.”
I couldn’t resist watching him walk away, my gaze mostly on his butt—and what a fine one it was. He was tall, lean in all the right places, and muscled everywhere a man should be. His hair was dark brown, cut close to his head. A good look on him. At the door he paused long enough to glance back and wink. Busted. He’d known I was eyeing him. My cheeks heated. I prayed he was too far away to notice my blush.
“That’s one fine specimen,” Brandy said, coming to stand next to me.
“Yeah, and he probably knows it.” Although I hadn’t got that impression, I was looking for faults. That one would do for a start. Hopefully he really was a tourist and I’d never see him again. The man would be entirely too easy to fall for.
2
~ Dylan ~
Ichuckledas I walked to my car. I’d felt Jenny Girl’s eyes on my back and had stifled the urge to flex my ass cheeks for her viewing pleasure. If the women in this town were as pretty as the bartender, I was going to enjoy living here. Watching her was better than seeing the Energizer Bunny in action. She owned that bar and ran it like a well-oiled machine, making drinks and chatting up the customers without missing a beat. Well, chatting to everyone but me, which right there said she was too aware of me for her peace of mind.
Every time she shook a martini, her ponytail bounced against her back, and all I could think about was wrapping that long red tail around my hand and holding her still while I kissed her senseless. Yeah, parts of me long dead were coming back to life. I definitely intended to see her again.
If I had to guess, the asshole at the bar was her boyfriend, but maybe not for much longer. I hoped not. The dude needed to learn how to treat a woman. I’d stood back for a few minutes, listening to them, and it had been all I could do not to say something. With any kind of luck, I’d run into him one day when I was on the job.
To get to know my new town, I drove around a little after I left Vincennes. The main street consisted of a mile of asphalt with shops on both sides. On the north side of the two lanes, a fast-moving creek wound its way behind the souvenir and mountain crafts stores. A few restaurants were scattered about; the ones on the creek side had outside seating in the back. In the summer you could get a burger or a mountain trout dinner while watching the tubers float by.
All information I’d learned from the town’s website after I’d been offered the job as Blue Ridge Valley’s chief of police. The photos posted on the site had called to me, the ones of laughing people drifting down a rushing creek on fat tubes, of sunsets over the mountains, and ones showing the brilliance of fall when the leaves had turned, dressing the trees in yellows, oranges, reds, and golds. Blue Ridge Valley had seemed like a place where I might find a bit of peace.
I’d already stopped by several of the businesses, introducing myself. Except for one biker bar and one honky-tonk joint, I hadn’t identified any other possible trouble spots. I’d visited both places, letting them know I had my eye on them.
The townspeople had created the perfect tourist destination. In the summer it was bikers with the low rumble of their Harleys cruising by, families renting cabins so they could explore the Blue Ridge Parkway and load up on useless souvenirs, and hikers wanting to walk parts of the Appalachian Trail or hike up to one of the many waterfalls in the area. Come fall, the leaf lookers took over, and in the winter the skiers and snowmobile enthusiasts flocked in when there was snow.
From what I’d learned researching the town, the residents and shop owners went all out decorating the place at Christmas. I’d already decided I would make myself scarce when that happened. Christmas brought back too many dark memories. Last year I’d dealt with the ghost haunting me by staying drunk from Christmas Eve until the day after Christmas.
Before I fell too deep into the memories, I pushed them away. I’d come here to start over, and Jenny was the first woman to catch my interest since…well, just since. At the sight of a drive-through, I pulled in, ordered two grilled chicken sandwiches and a large coffee. Dinner in hand, I continued my familiarization of the area, memorizing street names as I drove over curvy roads winding their way up the mountains. Someday, if I stayed here, I’d like to buy one of those log cabins nestled on the hillsides. I wondered if I’d passed Jenny’s house in my travels.
Although I didn’t officially start my new job until Monday, I decided to stop by the station, see what was going on. Not much in a town like this, I figured, which after working the mean streets of Chicago for nine years suited me just fine since I was suffering from a severe case of burnout. I hoped that arresting someone for making moonshine was going to be the most exciting incident in my new career. Whether or not I’d get bored remained to be seen.
The Blue Ridge Valley police station was about a tenth the size of my old precinct. Another thing I liked. As far as I was concerned, less was best. Parked in front of it, I studied the one-story building made of limestone blocks and sporting a blue tin roof, then turned my attention to the vehicles in the lot. There were six civilian cars and two police cruisers. Shouldn’t the cruisers be out on patrol? It occurred to me that not once had I passed a police car while touring the area.
I’d not stopped in yet, so they wouldn’t know who I was unless they’d seen my picture in the local paper announcing my appointment as their new chief. This was going to be interesting.
