He nodded slowly, waiting, knowing there was more.
She took a deep breath. Time to tell him. “And...part of the reason I came to the ranch was because my captain wanted me out of Houston. Jorge Lopez, the kid I killed, wasn’t just a random gangbanger. He was the little brother of the head of the gang. There’s a rumor around Houston that Manuel Lopez, his brother, might be out for revenge.”
He slapped his hand on the table, drawing the attention of other diners, and glared at her. “Jesus, Aubrey, you don’t think I should have known that?”
She shook her head and lifted weary eyes to him. “Why?”
“Why?” He leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. “Because I care about what happens to you. I don’t want you to be in danger, for God’s sake.”
“I’m a cop, Erich.”
“Right, but out here...” His voice trailed off.
“Out here, what?”
“Out here, shit, I don’t know. I want to help you. Why don’t we go shooting when we get back to the ranch? I could probably use some practice, and maybe you wouldn’t be so jumpy.”
She hated to admit it, but it was a good idea. “Only if I can sleep on the ride back.”
Erich glanced over at Aubrey, curled up on the seat, heater blasting on her as she slept beneath his coat. She’d only had one margarita, which he counted as success, and she’d fallen asleep pretty easily after telling him about Manuel Lopez and his gang.
Scary shit, what she did back in Houston. He wanted to ask her if she liked her job, but the answer he’d get now would probably be skewed.
The way she’d reacted when that car backfired, though—she had good instincts. He wished she could see that, but maybe she wasn’t ready.
She said she wanted to go back to Houston, go back to being a detective, but would she go while Manuel Lopez was still at large? If the guy was a leader of a gang, that could take years. He didn’t imagine Aubrey would want to hang around here for long. That idea, of her leaving again, of him not being around to keep an eye on her, saddened him. But she hadn’t wanted to stay when she didn’t have a life outside of the ranch. Why would she want to stay now?
He pulled in front of his modest house on the other side of the hill from the barn, the little house the former foreman had had built for his family of six. Beside him, Aubrey roused and blinked.
“Why are we at Mr. Carson’s place?”
“My place now. Mr. and Mrs. Carson retired to the city a couple of years ago. He still comes to visit, says she’s having a grand old time, shopping and being sociable, but I get the feeling he’s kind of miserable.”
“He was always kind of miserable,” she reminded him, her voice husky from sleep. “Why are we here?”
“Pick up my rifle and some ammo and targets. Still want to go shooting?”
She craned her neck to look at the temperature reading on the dash. “Sure.”
He opened his door and hesitated. “Want to come in?”
“Sure.”
Mentally, he tried to remember the state he’d left the place in. He was usually pretty neat, especially since he was technically renting the place, but he’d spent a lot of time with Aubrey lately, so there were probably dishes in the sink and laundry piled on the washer.
He led the way into the house. She stepped inside, slowly, cautiously, like he was leading her into a trap.
“There’s no one here,” he said.
“I just never really imagined what your house would be like,” she said, looking at the empty walls, the leather couch and the flat screen. Interesting how similar his place was to her apartment, nothing to personalize it. “Not much to imagine, I guess.”
He laughed. “I haven’t lived here too long.”
“A couple years, at least, right?”
“Yeah, but—”
“Not enough time to find pictures for the walls?”
“I don’t know what I want.”
“Is that why you’re not married yet?”
“Pretty much.” He walked into his bedroom.
She followed, then stopped, her eyes riveted to the painting over the bed, the painting of the oak tree on the hill, the hill where they used to make love. “Interesting painting.”
He opened his closet, revealing a tall gun safe, but she could see the tips of his ears were red.
“Yeah, a local artist painted that. I got it for a good price at one of those arts and crafts shows.”He hefted his rifle and grabbed his range bag. “Always liked that hill.”
She remembered, but didn’t chance asking why. She wasn’t sure she was ready to hear the answer.
He turned to face her, color still riding his cheeks. “What about you? Any marriage prospects?”
She snorted. “Not even close. Crazy schedule isn’t conducive to romance.” She sat on the edge of the bed, and ran her hand over the bedspread. “There was a guy a couple of years back. He thought dating a cop was sexy, until he had to deal with the missed dates and me rolling out of bed at all hours.”
He didn’t know why the image of her in another man’s bed kicked him in the gut. He remembered what she looked like after being well-loved, her hair a tangle, her body flushed and beautiful.
The way she’d look if he kissed her now, laid her back on his bed. How many times had he imagined her in his bed?
“What about you?” she asked, pushing to her feet when he took a step closer. “Anyone special in the last few years?”
“Same kind of thing. Women find the cowboy thing sexy, but no one wants to stay out here in the middle of nowhere. God knew you couldn’t get out of here fast enough.” He eased back. Now wasn’t the time. She was only here for a little while, and there was no reason to expect her to stay.
“So, no one, then.”
What did she want to know? “I’ve had a couple of long-term relationships.”
“How long?”
Damn, she was persistent. That must be a trait that made her a good cop. “Longer than we were together.”
“How long ago?”
He lifted his eyebrows. “What exactly do you want to know?”
His directness flustered her, and she lowered her gaze. “I was just wondering if some girl was going to come out of the woodwork and be all pissed you were spending time with your ex.”
His ex. He didn’t think of her as his ex, really, especially not lately. He thought of her more as...a possibility. “No. No exes hanging around.”
She nodded but he wasn’t sure what that meant. He was sure if they spent much more time in his bedroom that they wouldn’t be going shooting. He got the idea that was where her line of questioning lead. But while his body may be ready, he wasn’t sure she was ready, not for anything more than release. And he’d grown past that need. He didn’t do casual sex anymore. He wanted a relationship.
The more he thought about it, the harder a relationship with Aubrey would be—she was the boss’s daughter, she had a life and career in Houston. She was wounded. But he wanted her. He needed to figure out how he could have her, for the rest of his life.
Using every ounce of self-control, he walked past her to the living room, toting his rifle and range bag. She didn’t follow him right away, and he could have sworn he heard her sigh before she did.
Erich brought the .22 rifle to his shoulder and fired four shots in a row. Aubrey curled her tongue inside her mouth. The man looked damn hot holding a gun, even with ear and eye protection, which was a foolish thing to think.
She’d barely turned the conversation in time back in his bedroom. When he’d narrowed his eyes at her, she knew she’d gotten too intimate and back-pedaled. But something about being in his room made her think about other women in his life and want to stake a claim.
Which was ridiculous because she’d had a claim and walked away. And now she was in no position to claim anyone. But damn, it would be nice to be held in those arms, let him help her forget, just for a little while, why she was here.
He lowered the rifl
e and offered it. “Want to fire it? It’s a fun gun to shoot.”
She took the rifle. The gun she’d used that night was back in Houston, at the station under lock and key, though she’d been cleared of wrongdoing. Her back-up weapon, a small 9mm, sat on the tailgate of Erich’s truck, next to a box of ammo he’d set aside for her. She hadn’t quite worked up the nerve to fire it. He picked it up, weighed it, but she didn’t invite him to shoot, not yet. Instead, she stepped forward and brought the rifle to her shoulder, aiming at the target pinned to a hay bale.
She fired in rapid succession, shredding the paper target. He chuckled when she lowered the weapon.
“Get some of that aggression out?” he asked, reaching for the gun.
She rolled her shoulders, which didn’t hurt since the gun didn’t have a kick. “I didn’t realize I had any.”
That brought a full laugh from him, and he reached for the rifle. “You going to shoot yours?”
She looked at it a long moment. “I don’t think so. Not this time.”
He frowned, but then tucked the rifle away. “Too cold out here anyway.”
She hadn’t even noticed, she’d been so anxious about shooting her own gun, hearing the report that, while not identical to her service weapon, was the same caliber and feel. That she hadn’t worked up the courage to pick it up disappointed her. She wrapped her fingers around the grip, traced her finger over the trigger guard, and tucked it into her holster with a sigh.
The next morning, she didn’t need Erich to wake her up. The festival was that evening, and her mother would be up early, attending to last-minute details to help Hailey Barnes, this year’s chairwoman. Aubrey was determined to lend a hand.
Laura looked up from her coffee in surprise when Aubrey stepped into the kitchen. Her mother, of course, was already dressed, stylishly in wool pants, a sweater and boots. Aubrey felt frumpy in her sweats and robe, her hair in a ponytail. She should have thought this through, she should have been showered and dressed, but she wanted to catch her mom before she left.
“I thought I could come help you with the festival today, be your runner, or whatever you need.”
Her mother set the cup down slowly. “Are you sure you’re up for that? It’s a lot of people, and you haven’t been around people lately.”
People weren’t the problem. Their questions were. She knew there would be some. She had spent part of the night figuring out what she’d say. She’d decided to keep it simple, that she was here on vacation, a little R&R after a tough case.
“I’m okay.”
Her mother looked at her closely. “Are you drinking?”
She drew up straight. Of course her mother had known, though she hadn’t said anything to this point. “Not—no. I had one drink yesterday, but nothing else.”
“Good. That’s good.” Her gaze flicked over Aubrey’s attire. “Do you want to eat before we go?”
“No, I’ll just go shower. I’ll be ready in a moment.”
“Dress warm!” her mother called after her when she turned away.
Perhaps she’d dressed too warm for all the running around her mother had planned as they set up tables in the Cascade town square for the party. Poinsettias and lighting and candles and tablecloths on each table—that was the easy part. Doing everything to her mother’s specifications was another. She had kept her mother as a buffer between her and Hailey, who’d been a classmate what seemed like a million years ago. But each chore kept her mind off Houston, and she began to remember how much she liked Christmas. Someone had thought to pipe Christmas carols through the speakers, and she found herself humming along to the familiar tunes. She pushed aside thoughts of a family who would be miserable this Christmas and went to do another task for her mother.
She wished she’d worn layers she could peel off, because while the wind was still cold, the sweater trapped the heat of running around against her body. She wiped her hair back from her face and reached for a cold bottle of water. Of course, in these temperatures, everything was cold, even the coffee and cocoa in the big servers set up in front of the church. She looked across the town square and saw Erich setting up the heaters around the perimeter. He caught her gaze and surprise registered on his face before he waved and got back to work.
Right. Her mother wouldn’t let him slack, either. Aubrey hadn’t asked if he’d be here tonight. Suddenly, she didn’t know what to wear tonight. She couldn’t remember the last time she worried about what to wear except for comfort. But suddenly she wanted to look pretty, wanted to see Erich’s eyes light up like they used to when he saw her.
She hadn’t packed any party clothes, and she was too tall to borrow something from her mother. She was going to have to find a minute to go shopping, and hope that she could find something in one of the small shops.
“Wow, you haven’t slowed down once,” a voice said behind her.
Aubrey hoped she hid her grimace as she turned to face Hailey. She’d seen the petite blonde running about, but had managed to keep her distance. She accepted the other woman’s hug, but took an extra step back when it was over.
“I’m surprised to see you here. I thought you were too busy being a big cop in Houston.”
“We just wrapped up a big case, so I thought I’d come out for Christmas, since it’s been awhile.” Aubrey hoped those words didn’t sound as rehearsed as they felt. If she could remember what it was Hailey did, she could turn conversation away from herself. Instead she said, “What are you up to these days?”
“Oh, you know, nothing as exciting as you. Jeff and I have three little ones now, and they keep me hopping, between being a room mother and dance class and baseball practice. Thank God I’m not working, because I sure don’t know how I’d juggle it all. What about you? Married?”
Since she’d already looked at Aubrey’s hand, she was fishing. “Not married, no kids.”
“No hot handsome hunk of a cop on the sidelines?”
Aubrey knew cops were popular fantasy objects with women, but she didn’t see it, not with the long hours and the crappy diet and, well, the things they saw that made them surly and distrustful of human nature. Sure, there were the occasional hunks, and she’d bedded enough to know she wouldn’t make that mistake again.
“No one on the sidelines.”
Hailey frowned, her expression sincere. “That must be really lonely.”
That the other woman was right hit a little harder than Aubrey expected. She was lonely. She had very little time for girlfriends, none for men. Since she had no one in Houston was part of the reason she’d come home. And she was so used to being alone, she’d locked herself away from everyone.
“Do you like it, being a cop?”
Aubrey opened her mouth to say yes, she did, then stopped herself. She didn’t have the same feeling as she’d had a month ago, a clear picture of why she did what she did. She was growing cynical, becoming the kind of cop she’d always promised herself she wouldn’t. She’d wanted to hang onto the belief that she was doing good, but she was less and less certain of the fact.
“It’s a job,” she said.
If she didn't love being a cop anymore, what would she do? She'd wanted to be a cop since she got her degree from UT in criminal justice, was one of the youngest female detectives on the force. All her plans revolved around being a cop. But as much as she hated to admit it, Hailey had raised questions in her, questions she hadn't let herself ask. How would she find love? How would she have a family? Though she had no desire to be a room mother, she would love to sit at her son's or daughter's baseball game, would love to sit at a dance recital. Crazy, because she hadn't thought about that before. But if she was going to have a family, she was not going to be a workaholic.
Then she did something she never thought she'd do. She asked Hailey for advice.
If not for the possibility of seeing Aubrey at tonight's festival, Erich would have ditched the thing and stayed home with a six-pack and the Spurs game. Between his regular duties and Mrs.
Cavanaugh's errands, he was beat to hell. But he had a pretty good idea Aubrey would be there. Being around all those people might be hard for her, and he wanted to be there for her.
Yeah, sure, right. He wanted to be there to keep all the other cowboys away.
So he put a thermal shirt beneath his new western shirt and headed to town.
He had to park on a side street a few blocks away from the center of town, since the streets were already lined with trucks and SUVs. Others who hadn’t had duties to perform before they got here arrived earlier. He scanned the crowd, many of them at the buffet, several gathered around the heaters he’d hooked up earlier. The band was setting up on the stage in front of the bank, but Christmas carols piped through the speakers.
He hated that the first place he looked for Aubrey was near the bar, but he didn’t see her there. He scanned until he saw her dark head above the crowd and he edged toward her. As if people knew, the crowd parted. What he saw stopped his breath in his throat.
She wore a form-fitting knit dress in a gray, red and black southwestern print. The jeans she usually wore didn’t do justice to that ass, and when she turned...Jesus. He was aware she was watching him but he couldn’t tear his gaze away from her breasts. They’d been nice when she was a teenager, but now...
She met him in the aisle between the rows of tables, caught his forearms and rose on her toes to kiss his cheek.
“My father is watching you check me out, so be aware.”
“Right,” he choked out, forcing his gaze to her face and finding her wearing make-up. Lipstick, even. Suddenly he wanted to smear the color off with his mouth, wanted to see her lips open on a sigh, a pant, a moan. “You look great.”
She flicked her gaze to his shirt, and back to his eyes. “So do you.”
Again, he hated that he paid attention to her breath, but he didn’t smell alcohol, only coffee. “Did you save me something to eat?”
She laughed and stepped back. “I haven’t even eaten yet. I promised I’d help with the kids waiting for Santa.”
Home for the Holidays: A Contemporary Romance Anthology Page 20