by Maisey Yates
Of course, now she felt like she was approaching doom. Which she didn’t think was at all dramatic. Since she was never dramatic.
Except for when she was dramatic.
From the backseat, she heard Tobias, more commonly known as Toby, let out a plaintive meow. The entire road trip had been endured with growing indignation by her cat. But then, she paid the rent, so he had to deal.
“Sorry, bud,” she said. “I have the thumbs, I man the can opener. That means you have to stick with me. And if that means moving up the coast, it means moving up the coast. At least I didn’t fly and throw you into cargo.” Which, during their many moves together, had been a necessity on occasion. Toby wasn’t a fan of air travel.
The cat didn’t respond to her attempts at mollifying him. Which didn’t really surprise her. In many ways, she was much more dependent on him than he was on her.
Sadie looked out at the expanse of evergreen trees that lined the road, a rich, velvet green that she hadn’t found anywhere outside of Oregon. California was sun and palm trees, deep blue ocean and heat. It was beautiful, but in a different way.
Copper Ridge was all majestic mountains, shades of green and steel-gray sea. Not the kind of beach you hung out on in a bikini unless you were a local. The wind was cold and blew the sand up hard and fast, the grains biting into skin like little teeth.
It was its own kind of beauty, that was for sure. She’d been all over the United States. From the Deep South to the East Coast and back west again, and nothing had ever been quite like this. She’d never thought she’d be back.
But she was. And the dread was ever encroaching.
Suddenly, the car engine started to growl, and she pushed down the gas pedal, hoping to feel it rev again, only to be disappointed.
“Oh, frickety frick,” she muttered as she pulled to the side of the road and the engine went totally silent.
Gas had apparently been needed sooner than expected.
She leaned forward, pressing her head against the steering wheel. “I knew it was doomed. I knew I was doomed!” She straightened up and looked backward at Toby. “Don’t start. Don’t get judgey.”
Toby did nothing but stare at her with green eyes that were extremely judgmental despite her command. “You suck, cat,” she said, reaching down and digging for her purse, then feeling around for her phone.
She pulled it out and saw one bar of service. Oh, right. Because that’s what you got for moving away from civilization and settling in the absolute sticks.
She tapped her fingernails against the side of the phone and contemplated who to call. She didn’t really know anyone in town anymore. Her own parents had moved away ages ago, and she wouldn’t call them even if they hadn’t.
Thankfully, she could get roadside assistance, but what a freaking pain.
She pulled up the browser on the phone and typed tow trucks into the search engine, then grimaced as she watched the little wheel up in the top left-hand corner of the phone spin, and spin and spin while it tried to grab hold of a satellite signal for long enough to pull up some results.
“Oh, Copper Ridge, you’ve bested me before, you aren’t allowed to do it again.” She kept her eyes on the phone and then growled at it, setting it on the passenger seat while she leaned over and pulled a stack of papers out of the glove box. She had to have a number for her insurance on hand at least.
Somewhere. It had to be somewhere.
A loud rap on the glass behind her shot a shock wave through her and she whipped around, releasing her hold on the stack of papers, sending them flying through the car, where they settled in both the front and backseats.
She looked around at the mess, then at the knocker. On the other side of the glass was a man in a tan uniform, a gold star on his chest, sunglasses over his eyes. What she could see of him was...well, hot. Which was the last thing she expected, because she’d been living in San Diego for a few years, the land of the beautiful, and rarely, if ever, was she so overcome by a man’s face that all she could think was “hot.” But maybe that had to do with the recent startle. She was just a little dazed, that was all.
He pointed downward, an authoritative gesture that took her a minute to attach meaning to, mainly because something was pulling at the back of her brain. A memory that was attempting to come to the forefront.
She blinked and tried to get herself together, tried to get herself back into the present. She pushed the button on the door and the window slid down, removing the barrier between herself and Officer Hottie.
“Hi,” she said. “I’m out of gas. But I have roadside assistance so...I mean, I’m okay. Except I don’t have very good cell service. So I was looking for... Well, anyway, did you stop for a reason?”
“To check on you,” he said, the expression on his face strange. He looked like he had a memory tugging on his brain, too, and that made her own memory pull even harder.
“Yes...because...distressed motorist.” She looked around at all of the scattered papers. “Right. But I’m not really distressed. I’m fine.”
Wow, but he really was hot. Chiseled jaw, short dark hair. He created a response, low and deep in her body, that felt familiar in a very disquieting way.
He bent down in front of the window and she caught the name on his badge.
E. Garrett.
Oh, no. No no no no. There were not enough swearwords in the English language to express all of the bad in this situation. She was stranded on the side of the road, and she’d just encountered one of the chief demons from her past. In a uniform. The welcome committee from hell. Not that she’d imagined she’d be able to avoid him forever, considering her B and B was situated on his family’s ranch, but she’d imagined she might avoid him for at least ten minutes after hitting the city limits.
She was not in the mood to deal with him. She was revising his nickname. Not Officer Hottie. Officer Stick-Up-the-Ass. That’s who he was.
Not only that, he was a reminder of a whole host of things she would rather just forget.
And then his expression changed, and she knew he was catching up.
“Sadie Miller,” he said.
“Well, damn.” She smiled at him as best she could, but her palms were starting to sweat. Authority figures did that to her in general, and authority figures who had once fingerprinted her were an even bigger issue. “You do have a good memory.”
“You never forget the first woman you put in handcuffs,” he said, his voice low and firm, giving zero impression of a double entendre, and yet, it hit her that way.
Hit her and ricocheted around to parts inside of her that had gone ignored for a long time.
She cleared her throat and straightened her shoulders, trying to look arch and serious, and everything she’d spent the past ten years turning her life into.
Eli Garrett wasn’t allowed to make her feel like a scroungy teenage girl, because she was not a scroungy teenage girl anymore. Similarly, he was not allowed to make her feel hot and bothered like he’d done back then, either, because...well, because she wasn’t the same person she’d been then.
“Indeed,” she said.
“What brings you back into town?”
He didn’t know? She looked at him, studied him. He didn’t know. Well, that was just peachy. Connor Garrett had neglected to tell his brother that he’d offered her the lease on the house. She had a feeling that was going to go down with Eli like a live leech in his breakfast cereal.
“Am I, um...am I being detained?” she asked, fidgeting in her seat.
“No,” he said.
“Then am I free to go?”
“Where? You’re out of gas.”
Point to Officer Garrett. “Yes. I am. Maybe...maybe you could help me with that?”
His lips, which were far more interesting than they should be, didn’t
smile, didn’t lessen their tension. They simply remained in a flat line. Uncompromising. Unfriendly. Like the man himself. “Just a second.” He turned and walked back toward his squad car and she started picking up the papers she’d strewn all over the car.
Her heart was beating so hard she thought she might have a medical event. What were the odds that he was the first person she saw when she came back to Copper Ridge? It was a bad omen. A very bad omen.
Of course, her first thought, still, was that he was hot. She’d thought that at seventeen. But then, to a rebellious kid with an affinity for underage drinking, a man who was part of the sheriff’s department was sort of the ultimate fascination. The ultimate no-go. So of course, even when she’d resented his presence, she’d gotten a little kick out of checking him out.
She let out a long breath. She’d sort of hoped that he’d gone on to law enforcement in another town. Or that maybe he’d given up wearing a uniform altogether and discovered a passion for pottery...maybe in the south of France.
But no. Eli Garrett had done what most people from Copper Ridge seemed to do. He’d found his place in the little community and stayed in his carved-out niche.
You should judge. Since you’re back and all.
Yes, she was back.
At this point in the game, Copper Ridge had seemed as good a place as any to give her demons the big middle finger.
And hey, she was facing one of them a little bit early. But, considering he had a gun strapped to his lean hips, she thought maybe giving him the finger wasn’t the best idea.
“I put a call in for you,” he said from over her shoulder.
“Gah!” She startled. “Could you not sneak up on me like that?”
“Do I make you nervous?”
“No. Why would you make me nervous?”
“Criminals do seem to get nervous around the badge.”
She frowned. “I am not a criminal. I am a licensed therapist in eight...no, nine states.”
“With a criminal record.”
“I was a minor.”
“No arrests since then?” he asked.
“I ask again, am I being detained?”
“No.”
“Then...I’m free to go.”
“Except that you’re out of gas,” he pointed out. Again.
“Well, you’re free to go, then.”
He lifted a shoulder. “Yeah, I could. But I feel like it’s my mission to make sure you don’t get into any trouble. Or light anything on fire.”
“Okay, look, I didn’t light anything on fire on purpose. I knocked over a lantern.”
“Which is why arson wasn’t on the list of things you were arrested for.”
“Do you forget anything?” she asked.
“Public drunkenness. Disturbing the peace, resisting arrest. Not arson, though. And that’s not even mentioning the number of times we had to come and ask you and your friends to leave a store, or stop loitering where you didn’t belong.”
“Good lord, what a sad small life you must lead to remember my rap sheet. I barely even remember it.”
“As I said, you don’t forget your first.”
She screwed up her face. “That sounds possibly more sexual than I think you mean it to.”
“How does it sound sexual?”
She squinted. “Really?”
She waited for a full four seconds while it registered. She could see when it did because his humorless, impassive face had a slight shift before going back to being total granite. He still had his sunglasses on, so she couldn’t see his eyes, only her own reflection. Which looked flushed and flustered. And not from heat, that was for sure.
“Why are you here?” he asked.
“I didn’t say,” she said.
“I know. I tend to remember conversations that happened less than five minutes ago.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t see how that’s any of your business, since I’m not being detained for questioning.”
“For someone who hasn’t been arrested more than just the once, you have the lingo down perfectly.”
“I’m a therapist. I work with some troubled souls. I’ve seen more than one arrest.”
“Hmm,” he said. A noise halfway between a word and a grunt.
“What?”
“I’m surprised you became a therapist, is all.”
“Why?”
“Because.”
She knew what that because meant. Because you’re such a mess. That was what it meant. And she was not a mess. She wasn’t perfect, but she wasn’t a disaster, either. Anyway, thankfully, having your crap together was not a requirement for being able to help others get their crap together. So there. She didn’t say that last part, though. Because...well, gun. Badge. Handcuffs.
“I like to fix things,” she said. That was honest. “To fix people, actually. I don’t just arrest them and throw away the key. I try to make an impact on people’s lives.”
“Well, it takes both types, I guess,” he said.
“Yeah. So anyway, don’t you have some teenage miscreants to harass? I seem to recall that being your MO.”
As soon as she said it, an old red pickup truck eased into the space in front of her and an old man, one who looked familiar, got out, holding a gas can the same color as the truck.
“Well,” the other man said, a smile on his face, “if it isn’t Ms. Sadie Miller.”
Apparently she was wrong about not having anyone in town who still knew her. It was like these people had nothing better to do than remember every single soul who was born in this burg. For all eternity.
In fairness, though, she remembered Bud, too. She had no idea what his real name was. Or if he had one. Hell, that could be it. There was more than one Bubba in town, and they went by it completely un-ironically, so there really was no telling.
“Yes,” she said. “Yes, it’s me.”
“What brings you back to town?” he asked. “Your parents aren’t back, are they?”
“No,” she said. “They’re still down in Coos Bay.” Not that she spoke to them. For all she knew they could be somewhere else entirely by now, but she didn’t care. Not anymore.
She couldn’t watch their dynamic, not now that she had a choice. She’d moved away from her father’s rages. She wasn’t going to expose herself to them again.
And her mother wouldn’t leave. No matter how many times Sadie begged, her mother wouldn’t leave.
“I see. Well, it’s good to have you back.” He put his hand on the bill of his ball cap and tugged it down sharply before heading to the back of her car and opening up the gas tank.
Just like that. Like her presence mattered. Not like she was some hooligan who’d accidentally started a little barn fire and gotten herself arrested. Not like she was the child of a wife-beater or a disturber of the peace.
Like he was happy she was there.
Darn. She felt a little emotional now.
She unbuckled and got out, standing next to the car and watching Bud, bent at the waist and pouring gas into her car. “Hey, whatever I owe you, I’ll bring it by the gas station. I don’t have cash, but...”
Bud straightened. “Don’t you worry about it,” he said. “Consider it a welcome home.”
She couldn’t fathom why he was being so nice. She’d barely had any interaction with him. Back when she’d been a kid she would often go into the store that was adjacent to the station, after she and some friends had gone swimming in the river, and buy candy bars for fifty cents. Shivering in wet bathing suits in the cold, air-conditioned building.
But she hadn’t really thought of him as someone who would know her. Or...care. “I appreciate that.” But she would still be going down to the gas station to pay him back as soon as she could.
Maybe even before she went to the Garrett ranch.
“Thank you. Both.” She wasn’t going to let Eli Garrett get to her. She wasn’t going to let this stand as some sort of sign of how the rest of her venture here was going to be.
Nope. Just because it began with a vehicular disaster and Eli Garrett did not mean it would continue on that way.
Her eyes clashed with Eli’s and she looked down at the ground before realizing that was more awkward than just looking at him like he was a normal person. And not like he was a very handsome person who had once handcuffed her.
Even though he was.
She cleared her throat. “I’m going to go now. I have...places to be.” Eli would find out what those places were eventually, but hopefully that didn’t mean they would have to actually see each other.
She got back in the car and shut the door, and saw in her rearview mirror that Eli had done the same. Good.
She took a deep breath and started the engine, then put the car into gear. She was on to new things, reclaiming an old past and stealing its power.
And a little run-in with Eli Garrett wasn’t going to change that.
Copyright © 2015 by Maisey Yates
ISBN-13: 9781460381823
Brokedown Cowboy
Copyright © 2015 by Maisey Yates
All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.