Crystal Jordan: If You Believe

Shoving her hands in her pockets, she ignored thoughts of Price and focused on her shop. The nauseating smell seemed to have dissipated. Thank goodness. The ceiling and floor tiles around the stove needed replacing, as did the stove and the counter beside it. A fresh coat of paint would cover up the blackened wall behind the stove. Every bit of cloth, from curtains to chair cushions to dishrags had to go. They all stank of smoke.

She’d already hired a crew who specialized in fire damage to scrub the place from top to bottom and had done a whole lot of the nasty work herself. Bone-deep exhaustion sapped at her strength, but Bean There, Done That was starting to look as good as ever. A little spark of joy lit inside her. She rubbed her hand down the new door that separated the front and back rooms.

Yeah. Everything was going to be okay. Some quiet panic that had gripped her belly and weighed on her chest since she’d seen the damage began to ease. Bean There, Done That had been her lifeline, her escape. A shaky sigh eased past her lips.

After all the workmen filed out for the day, she locked up behind them and walked across the street. She had to pass through the park to get home. Jericho sat in his normal place on the park bench. Her stride checked a bit when she saw him. His prediction about the fire still freaked her out a bit.

Get over yourself, Aubrey. The man is off his meds. She snorted and jogged across the street, automatically rooting around the bottom of her purse for coins. Crazy or not, he was a vagabond with no real way to get food.

He smiled his usual smile as she approached. “Hi there. How’s the restoration coming?”

“Just peachy, thanks.” She handed over the change. “How’re you?”

“Good, good.” He waved her off. She sped past, relieved he didn’t say anything weird this time. A ridiculous amount of gratitude filled her at the reprieve. “Hang on a second, Aubrey.”

Freezing, she muttered every curse she knew under her breath. She even came up with a couple of inventive compound cusswords. Smiling—and hoping it didn’t look more like a grimace—she turned around. “Yeah?”

Mr. Crazy Man was back. He hummed a little before speaking again. “Dogs are bad luck for you today.”

Shit. She hunched her shoulder and spun away. “Thanks.”

If she went her normal route home, she’d have to pass by the dog park that made up a corner of the town square.

Maybe she would try a different way. Just for the change of scenery. Change was good for the soul, wasn’t it? If she went by the dog park, it just seemed like too much self-fulfilling prophecy.

Taking a left off the main path where she usually took a right, she wandered into the older district of town that had great Victorian houses. She’d always loved that style of architecture, but Scott had wanted modern. Now that she lived alone, it just seemed like too much upkeep. And maybe it was because she was afraid it would put her one step away from crazy cat lady to rattle around in a big old house like that. She turned the corner on to her street. She had four blocks left to go.

“Woof.” Her blood ran cold at the deep bark that came from behind her. A lot of people walked these streets in the evening. And took their dogs with them.

A kid of about twelve had lost the leash on his Great Dane. The air went whistling out of her in what might have been a high-pitched squeak.

It wasn’t that she believed Jericho or anything, but the fire thing had kind of creeped her out. Watching that pony-sized excuse for a dog running at her made her blood run cold. Anyone would freak out. It had nothing to do with Jericho’s warning. Nope. Not a thing.

She backpedaled as fast as her legs could carry her just the same. The back of her ankles hit something that yelped and the next thing she knew she was going down hard on the pavement. Her back arched when her tailbone made sharp contact with the ground and all the breath rushed out of her lungs. Curling into a fetal position on her side, she wrapped her arms around her knees and tried remember why she didn’t want to die right then. When she opened her eyes, a pointy little muzzle snapped in her face as a dachshund yapped. Dog breath, blech. She groaned and pushed into a sitting position. A strong arm wrapped around her back to cradle her against a wide chest. Price Delacroix.

“Don’t move, Aubrey.” His deep voice rumbled, and that was all it took to get her hot and bothered. Her sex dampened at the sound of his rich, deep tones. The way he smelled. The hardness of his muscles against her body. Thank you, Jesus.

“I’m fine.” She tried to pretend the breathiness of her voice was just from having the wind knocked out of her. The way her nipples tightened and her muscles softened told her it was a lie.

“You took a hard fall. Stay there.” His words were almost harsh, but his touch was gentle when he brushed her hair away from her face. She fought the urge to lean her cheek into his palm. Everything about this man made her react. Her original assessment that the two of them were destined to burn up the sheets was dead on. She really wanted to try him on for size. She’d bet he fit just fine. “I’m really all right, Chief.” “Price. You’ll call me Price.” His other arm slid under her bent knees and lifted her as he stood. She squeaked and clutched his shoulders. His soft T-shirt bunched in her fingers as she held on tight. “Don’t drop me.”

A wicked grin flashed over his face before he focused on her eyes. Some of her panic must have shown because he cuddled her closer. “Not a chance, sugar.”

“Is she all right, Chief Delacroix?” Mrs. Chambers, the biggest gossip in town, reined in her wiener dog and stared at the two of them.

“Oh, she’s fine. Ma’am.” He dipped his head in a nod, dismissing the older woman while he turned to walk up the driveway in front the big Victorian on the corner. She sighed in envy when she saw it. She glanced over his shoulder at Mrs. Chambers. An avid gleam entered the older woman’s eyes as he mounted the porch. Pitching her voice low, Aubrey had to warn him. “Look, I know you’re new in town, but Mrs. Chambers—”

He nudged the front door of his house open, and then kicked it shut behind them. “Will spread it all over town that I carried you into my house? And will probably embellish it by saying that I practically stripped you on the sidewalk and fucked you against the street lamp.”

“She won’t say ‘fuck’, but yeah.” She arched her eyebrows. If people wanted anything to be discreet in a small town, they made damn sure the town gossip did not find out. He was from L.A. Maybe he thought it was only in Mayberry TV-land that gossips told the whole town, who then knew your business, and felt free to chat with you about it.

“Well, that’s fine.” He sounded unruffled as he set her on his kitchen counter. Oh, man. The whole place looked like something out of Architectural Digest. She almost whimpered.

Focus, Aubrey. Future sex life at stake here. She was not interested in having her customers comment about her boffing the police chief. Even if she intended to do so. “Um, you know I have to live in this town? And no nice girl is going to date you now because they’ll think we’re an item. It doesn’t matter if they all know Mrs. Chambers is making it up.”

“Then we’ll have to make it the truth. You’ll just have to date me.” He shrugged and started to feel her up. She told herself he was just checking for injuries, but her hormones didn’t care. Price was here, and he was sliding those big, strong hands over her body.

She clenched her teeth to hold back a different kind of whimper. “And fuck you against a street lamp? I think not.”

“We can improvise.” He angled a cocky glance up at her. “Fucking me in my house is close enough.”