“Tommy? That was way before Mom and Dad moved away.”
“Was it? Hmm.”
“Argh! Give me that.” She snatched the ice cream away.
“Touchy, touchy.” Maggie eyed the television. “Do you have Netflix or Apple TV or one of those other streaming services?”
“Yes.”
“You have both, don’t you?”
“And Amazon Video.”
“When do you have time to watch them?”
Riley shrugged. “They’re available when I need them.”
“Find us a movie while I change.”
“Change?”
“I’m dying to get into my pj’s and free my feet from these boots.”
“You’re staying?”
Maggie flashed her a smile. “Girls’ night. Like old times.”
“Why does this feel like a takeover rather than a sleepover?”
“I knew you wouldn’t come to me. You’ve got the same reckless, stubborn Kingston genes as the boys.” She picked up her bag. “I’ll be back in ten. Pick out something sappy—or bloody. You decide.” Over her shoulder, she said, “By the way, we identified the other two poachers. My deputies arrested them this afternoon.”
“Thank you. That’s awesome.”
“Thank Blaine. He’s the one who finally got the first poacher to talk.”
Riley followed her sister’s exit. Hurricane Maggie. Chaos followed by unnerving calm. A familiar volley of emotions struck Riley’s already sensitized nerves—frustration, appreciation, resistance, acceptance, love.
Maggie had a habit of fixing things, big and small. She felt a keen sense of responsibility for everything and everyone in this town. It was too large of a burden for one person. But Riley knew if she tried to shut down her sister on this Costa Rica mystery, Maggie would work around her somehow.
Probably sit her gladiator ass on Riley’s chest and not move until she relented.
Talk about stubborn.
Grabbing the remote, she scrolled through movie after movie until one in particular caught her eye.
Maggie returned, wearing a fitted white T-shirt with pale purple bottoms, sporting dozens of dancing dogs. She’d combed out her ponytailed hair and left it loose around her shoulders. Bare toes peeked out from beneath her pj’s.
The transformation from sheriff to sleepover sister was amazing. All her hard lines had softened, and her worries had been shoved to the background. The only visible reminder of her law enforcement status was the handgun she set on a side table.
“Expecting trouble?”
“Anticipating surprises.”
She knew then that any peacefulness or softening her sister projected was all for show. For Riley. Until Maggie got to the bottom of the text messages and mysterious driver, she wouldn’t be able to relax.
Maybe her sister needed tonight as much as Riley did. Especially after discovering someone had been in her house, in her bed. But she would save that bit of news along with the meaning behind the note until later. Tonight they would both have fun. Girl fun.
“When did you start painting your toenails? And scarlet red to boot.”
Maggie winked. “When I had someone around who would appreciate them.”
Pro quarterback Jayson Tucker would appreciate Maggie any way he could get her. Although they both had demanding jobs that kept them away from each other at times, they were making it work.
If they could do it, couldn’t she and Coen?
Did he even want that?
“What’d you pick?” Maggie asked, folding her long limbs into the corner of the couch and hugging a fluffy pillow to her chest.
“Sabrina.”
“The one with Julia Ormond and Harrison Ford?”
“Yep.” She ignored her sister’s assessing gaze. Who could blame her if she was in the mood for a flick where the nerd transformed into a talented beauty, catching the eye of a handsome, emotionally isolated rich dude?
“Got any popcorn?”
Riley handed over the carton. “I have ice cream.”
“But it’s almost gone.”
“Better savor it then.”
Before Riley could hit Play, Maggie asked, “How’s Coen?”
“I don’t know.”
“What do you mean? Didn’t you catch up to him?”
“Yes, but he refused to see me.” Closing her eyes, she dropped her head onto the back of the couch. “It’s complicated.”
“It always is. Spill.”
“I told you, dear sister.” Riley lifted her head. “This part of my life is off-limits.”
“I’m not trying to direct your love life. Just lending an ear—like you did for me when I was struggling with my feelings for Jayson.”
She bent her head and used all eight fingers to rub at the ache in her forehead. Would talking things through with Maggie help? Or confuse her more? Would she be betraying Coen? Would Maggie judge her? Him? Them?
“You’re analyzing.”
“It’s what I do.”
“Analysis paralysis. Sometimes you just need to let things fly and see where they land.”
“But what if I land in a shithole?”
“Clean up and move on. Life is one part mistakes and one part successes. What defines your character is how you react to each life lesson.”
“So I must sort out my inner being in a very public and humiliating way?”
Maggie grinned. “Builds character.”
“What if the exercise breaks it?”
Her sister’s grin softened. “Not you, Ry. Inside that puny frame lies the heart of an angel and the strength of a Valkyrie.”
“Puny frame? I’m an inch taller than you.”
“But twenty pounds lighter.”
“Only because I lack your muscle mass.”
“Visit the gym, and I’ll help you shorten the gap.”
“Uh, yeah, no. Not my thing. I’ll stick to my own cardio program.”
Maggie nodded. “I suspect you could out-hike, out-survive me in the wilderness anytime.”
Warmth speared her heart. “A girl’s gotta have at least one useful talent.”
Her sister’s bare foot nudged at Riley’s shoulder. “Enough procrastinating. I want the goods.”
“What about our movie?”
“After the goods.”
She released an exaggerated sigh and decided to save the heavy stuff for later. “I saw him naked.”
Maggie’s eyes bugged out. “What?”
“Without clothes, in his birthday suit—”
Her sister’s foot shoved harder this time, knocking her to the side. “You had sex with him?”
“No!” She frowned. “We came close once, but I screwed it up.”
“How?”
“I don’t know.” Her hand waved emphatically between them. Hello, sugar buzz. “Everything was going great. My brain even stopped working for a while. Then I sat on him, and he got a pained look on his face and said ‘Ah, fuck.’ Which sent me to the restroom to drown in my mortification.”
Confusion scrunched up Maggie’s face. “I’m not following.”
“Never mind. I’m not talking about this anymore.”
“Is that when you saw him naked?”
“No, I came across him while doing survey work in the conservation area.” Her vision unfocused as she thought back to their first meeting. “I heard what sounded like an animal screaming. Following the noise, I stumbled upon his campsite, and there he was, standing buck-ass naked in front of his tent.” Riley’s attention fell on her hands, on the frayed cuticle she’d been toying with and hadn’t realized it. “The screaming. It was him.”
“What happened?”
The foot that struck violence on her seconds ago now made soothing swishes against her hip.
“He sensed my presence, and I bolted.”
“Did he chase you or track you down at the greenhouse?”
“No. I don’t know. Maybe.” Her knee began to bounce.
”What’d you do, Ry?”
“I went back and observed him.”
“Observed him,” Maggie repeated. “Like Jane Goodall watching the chimps?”
Riley nodded, though she raised her chin. “I needed to understand.”
“What?”
“Who was he? What made him scream? Why was he naked during the day? What put that vulnerable, haunted expression on his face?”
“Did he know you were there, spying on him?”
“Eventually.” She didn’t dare look at her sister—or the yelling would begin.
“You’re keeping something from me.”
“I’m not going to give you all the details.”
“I have a feeling that the reckless side of your DNA did something stupid.”
How did she do that? Her sister’s ability to read people was damn frightening.
Her lips twitched. “I might have snooped through his tent. And got caught.”
“Oh, for the love of—” Her sister switched from one rant to another midstream. “You went into a strange man’s tent? Were you out of your scientific mind?”
“I observed his pattern of behavior before taking my research to the next level.”
“But you got caught.”
“That wasn’t my fault. He forgot his canteen.”
A laugh-snort escaped Maggie. “Foiled by a canteen.”
She pressed her lips together and forced down the laughter that was vibrating in her chest. “It’s not f-funny.”
“Hell if it isn’t.” Maggie’s shoulders shook. “He came back for his canteen while you’re digging through his d-dirty underwear.” A full-on laugh erupted from her sister. A girlish, free laugh that Riley hadn’t heard in a long, long time.
The image Maggie painted was so absurd that her laughter broke past her self-imposed barrier.
All the stress from the past week faded into the background, leaving her with a warm sense of nostalgia. She missed these moments with her sister. Even though nine years separated them, they had always been good at talking through issues.
But once they’d both moved into adulthood, these shared moments had become few and far between.
She grasped her sister’s foot. “We need to do this more often.”
“Agreed.”
“I’ll send you a reoccurring calendar appointment.”
“Excellent.” Maggie stretched out on the cushions and pushed her feet onto Riley’s lap.
Most people wouldn’t get her need for order and scheduling and whatnot, but her paramilitary-minded sister, with her closet full of crisp, perfectly aligned uniforms, did.
Without thought, she began massaging the arch of her sister’s foot.
Maggie groaned. “What happened next?”
“He helped me save fox kits from a pit, planted seeds at the greenhouse, and kissed me in the moonlight.”
“Good kisser?”
“Unlike any I’ve ever had before.”
“Which is what? Three?”
She pinched Maggie’s little toe and sent her a warning look.
“You can’t argue the truth.”
Riley let her head fall back on the couch again. “Can I help it if no guy has wowed me enough to stop the analysis in my head?”
“You’re the only person I know who analyzes a kiss to the point of being an orgasm killer.”
“I’m a freak, what can I say?”
“You’re not a freak.” Maggie’s words came out harsh, uncompromising. “The right guy hasn’t kissed you yet.” She cocked her head to the right. “Or has he?”
Riley shot her sister a death look. “Thanks to you, there’s a slim-to-no chance of my getting another kiss.”
“Me?” The hard lines of Sheriff Maggie slid back into place. “You didn’t want him involved with the Costa Rica matter. I did what you couldn’t.”
Maggie had her back. She’d fixed the situation.
Shame washed over Riley.
Squeezing her sister’s foot, she said, “You’re right. It’s best this way.” She stared across the room at nothing in particular. “He’ll be gone soon anyway.”
“Riley,” Maggie said quietly.
She met her sister’s gaze.
“All I did was stop him from screwing up my investigation. What you do with him outside of that is up to you.”
“What happens if his kiss can stop the analysis? I’ll be all like, ‘He’s the one,’ and then he’ll leave.”
“Not forever.”
“He could be gone for months.”
“You’ve waited twenty-five years for love. What are a few months?” Maggie smiled that smile women get when they’ve found their own life mate. “For the right guy.”
The right guy.
Something exciting and hopeful and terrifying took root in the pit of her stomach. Her fingers tingled and her legs shook.
“And Ry?”
“Yeah?”
“When you sat on Coen—you didn’t hurt him. You gave him pleasure.”
Eyes wide. “I did?”
Maggie grinned. “Yay, you.”
Hitting the Play button, she continued to massage her big sister’s poor feet, a smile dancing on her lips.
Yay, me.
40
The firelight licked against Coen’s face and chest like the first rays of a morning sun.
Wearing a pair of jersey shorts, he sat in a bag chair, wondering why his mind refused to rest after the workout he’d given it today.
Although he and Reid hadn’t technically finished their competition, Reid had declared himself the winner by default and called in his wager. Coen hadn’t argued. Spending an hour in a yoga class had been a small penance for pointing a weapon at his friend.
Four others had participated in the practice. Rather than blocks and straps and yoga mats, the instructor brought out several blankets—some to lie on, some to use as pillows, and some to use as covers.
The instructor had guided them through different breathing techniques to help them enter a state of conscious sleep. It took about fifteen minutes for him to let down his guard long enough to give the practice a fair shake. Twenty minutes after that, he’d drifted off. Rather than wake him, the instructor had let him sleep.
Coen had regained consciousness slowly. When the instructor had encouraged them to roll into a sitting position, he’d felt… different. More centered. Relaxed in a way he hadn’t been in years.
Until Reid stood up. In his spandex. It was like seeing a gorilla wearing a strip of electrical tape around his private parts.
The image was still burned in his mind.
Now he felt drained. As if he’d spent the past twelve hours calculating complex sums. But he couldn’t bring himself to go lie down. Couldn’t bring himself to test the yoga’s effects on his night terrors.
What if the nightmares returned? What if they didn’t?
Would Riley return tonight and read to him until dawn? Doubtful.
After he’d refused to see her at the training academy, she would likely never come within ten feet of him again. She’d gone head to toe with Reid and Gage, demanding, pleading to see him. To help him.
He could still hear the hollowness of her voice when she’d realized he’d told Reid to keep her away. That had gutted him as much as, if not worse than, almost shooting his friend.
But facing her after what he’d done—or almost done—had been more than he could handle. Something in his mind had cracked in the wrong place, and he hadn’t been able to suppress the demons that threatened to overwhelm every waking hour.
That’s when Reid and Gage had walked him through what they knew of Yoga Nidra, which wasn’t much since both of them had only attended a handful of classes. They hadn’t even made him lie down. He simply sat in Reid’s desk chair and closed his eyes.
But the controlled breathing had helped reset his focus, allowing him to wrestle back control, one breath at a time. At the end of the session, Reid made him promise to return this morning.
Neither one of them mentioned anything about the second part of their wager, the part where Reid would tell Riley that Coen loved her. Would the bastard follow through?
No, he wouldn’t dare. Not after watching Coen being consumed by his own memories. Reid would want better for his cousin.
The shuffle of leaves drew his attention to the ridge. The firelight killed his vision beyond its flickering glow.
Reaching down beside his chair, he curled his hand around his Glock. “Who’s there?”
Leaves rustled, twigs snapped as the slow, measured steps grew nearer.
Sitting forward, he rested his forearms on his knees, allowing whoever approached to see his weapon. “Identify yourself now.”
He hoped to God it wasn’t a black bear searching for an easy meal. As usual, he’d stowed all his food in a container hanging high above. But that wouldn’t stop a curious bear from ransacking his tent.
“It’s me.” Shadows shifted, making way for the long, sleek body of his ethnobotanist as she entered the circlet of firelight.
Everything about her looked soft and feminine and sexy. Her hair draped over one shoulder like an onyx waterfall. She wore white linen pants and a turquoise button-down shirt that rippled in the light breeze. A practical yet stylish pair of hiking shoes covered her feet, and her ever-present backpack purse was hooked over one shoulder.
“May I?” she asked, hovering at the edge of light.
Without taking his eyes off her, he placed his gun beneath his chair and rose.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
“I’ve come to find out how Charlotte and Cameron defeat the villain and get their happily-ever-after.”
He moved toward her. “What if it doesn’t end well?”
“Charley won’t let that happen. She’s determined to have both—a career and Cam.” She bit her bottom lip. “What she’s less sure about is what Cam wants.”
His thumb traced over her abused lip. “He wants the girl and to continue serving those who need him most. But his past is full of darkness. Darkness that could hurt her.”
“She’s much tougher than he—or anyone—gives her credit for.”
All the reasons he should send her away played through his mind. Instead of delivering the harsh words that would save her future heartache, he whispered, “Brave Miss Indy.”
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