Twinkle lights framed every shop up and down Main Street, casting a warm, welcoming glow on the snow-covered sidewalk. With a month until Christmas, Northfield looked like something from a vintage postcard—charming and peaceful, with garlands wrapped around everything and wreaths on every door. Somewhere down the block, the scent of woodsmoke and kettle corn drifted from the Christmas tree lot.
His Chevy was dusted with snow, and his boots made a crunching sound as he walked across the parking lot, yanking up the collar of his sheepskin jacket against the cold.
The engine groaned before turning over, and he settled in behind the wheel, exhaling a long, frosty breath while he waited for the truck to warm up.
He didn’t turn on the radio. Just sat there, hands resting on the frozen leather steering wheel, watching his breath fog the windshield while the heater slowly came to life.
And of course, because his brain was an asshole, his eyes flicked toward Lily’s studio, like they did every night when he got off shift. The lights were off tonight. He bit down on the disappointment.
Sometimes when he left work, he’d catch a glimpse of her in the big windows, her curly hair tamed and sleek in the bun, wearing one of those tight things that didn’t leave much to the imagination. Jesus, he loved when she wore that thing.
She’d moved into her sister’s apartment over Morning Glory Bakery. More than once, when he was burning the midnight oil at the station, he’d caught a glimpse of her from his office window, her curls bouncing, always in motion as she closed up the studio and walked home.
And more than once, he’d seen her out on dates. Blind dates, if the stiff smiles and awkward body language were any indication. He told himself he was glad she was moving on and rebuilding her life. That was what she deserved.
Still. It ate at him that she was looking for someone else to give her what she wanted. He told himself it was none of his business, that she deserved the whole damn world after wasting years on a man who never took care of her. Rush knew that beneath all her sweetness and shy glances, Lily was a woman who could burn hot and wild if she let herself.
He’d been the one to feel it—her nails raking down his back in the cabin, her soft, dazed sighs as she came apart around him, trembling and fierce and so gorgeous. He could still taste her on his tongue, still feel the way she gave herself over without hesitation. Most people held something back, blunted the edges of their desire to protect themselves. Not Lily. She was all heart, all heat, and he’d fucking drunk it in like a starving man.
The thought of her giving that to someone else made his hands curl into fists.
So he did the only thing he could: nodded politely when he saw her and kept his distance. He was a gentleman; he didn’t make it a habit to sleep with a woman and then ignore her. He wasn’t sticking around Northfield, but if he was… there was something about Lily he wanted more of. Sex, yeah. Of course. That had been the single hottest night of his life, but there was something else about Lily he couldn’t get out of his thoughts.
He’d planned to stop by and check in with her at the studio, to make sure she was okay, but she’d surprised him by coming to the sheriff’s department about a week after they got back home from the cabin.
He’d stepped out of his office because he’d heard her laugh—that soft, musical sound that had been haunting him ever since the weekend at the cabin. For a second, he thought he was imagining it—maybe he’d finally cracked after all—but then he saw her.
Standing in the lobby of the Northfield Sheriff’s Department, cheeks pink from the cold, laughing at something Ben Tanner said like she belonged there. Her hair was pulled back in a loose braid, wisps curling around her face, and she looked so goddamn sweet it knocked the air from his lungs. Her laugh hit him right in the chest. Warm. Familiar. Dangerous.
“Miss Hart,” he’d greeted her, aiming for professional.
But then she’d looked up at him, with that familiar mix of shyness and humor he remembered so well, and his chest went tight. Her lush pink lips curved up in a warm smile, her eyes dancing with amusement. And damned if he didn’t find himself smiling for the first time in a week.
Then Ben had leaned against the front counter, trying surreptitiously to sneak a peek in the grocery bag Lily clutched to her chest.
“Are those cookies?” Ben asked, eyeing Lily with the same smooth grin he used on half the female population in Northfield.
Rush knew that look. Hell, every woman within a ten-mile radius knew that look. Ben Tanner was charming, cocky, and shameless. He was a decent deputy. Loyal. Sharp.
But the way he was looking at Lily—like he wanted to lick her up and down—made Rush’s jaw tighten.
“No, just Sheriff Callahan’s clothes,” Lily had blurted, and then she’d frozen as the implication sank in like a brick.
Ben’s eyebrows shot up, and he grinned, clearly enjoying himself. “Well,” he drawled, his gaze dipping to the bag in Lily’s arms. “That explains absolutely nothing.” Then he winked, full of cocky smolder that made Rush want to jerk him up by the collar. “Like I said, if you ever need a ride, Miss Hart, you just let me know. I’ve got lights, sirens… the whole nine yards.”
“Deputy Tanner,” Rush had barked, making both Lily and Ben jump. “You on break or just forgetting what your job is?”
Ben straightened immediately and cleared his throat. “No, sir. Just keeping Miss Hart company, Sheriff.”
Rush’s eyes never left Lily’s. “She’s not your company.”
A tense silence stretched between them until Ben finally mumbled, “Roger that, sir,” and slipped out of the room, leaving them staring at each other.
Rush folded his arms across his chest. “You okay?”
Lily’s pink cheeks bloomed with heat. Rush’s eyes dipped to her lips before he could stop himself.
“I’m great,” she’d said brightly. “Totally great. Everything’s… great.” She’d trailed off, looking shy and delicious.
