Christie Ridgway - Can't Fight This Feeling

“There was cash missing, too, I’m told. And, uh...” Vaughn seemed to think. “The medicine cabinets were rifled. A TV is gone.”

“Hmm.” It seemed to him an odd assortment of plunder, but Brett didn’t know anything about what items could be fenced. Or the criminal mind.

The sheriff’s volunteer patted the roof of the truck. “Keep vigilant.”

Brett resisted rolling his eyes. “Will do,” he said, and succumbed to the urge to mock salute.

The other man didn’t appear to sense his irony and returned to his vehicle. Brett watched him roll slowly out of the parking lot and onto the highway.

As he did, he saw Angelica’s vehicle drive past the hardware store. Most of her face was hidden behind a pair of celebrity-sized sunglasses. Without thinking, he pulled out after her. If she wasn’t working at Hallett’s today, where was she going?

More important, how was she faring?

At the next turnoff, an SUV took advantage of the gap he’d left between their vehicles and slid into place behind Angelica. Brett didn’t mind. He could watch her just as well from here. Their short parade continued on for half a mile until her lights signaled and she hung a right into a parking lot bordering a rustic set of buildings that housed a branch of the county library, a gourmet market and a fancy day spa.

He followed at a sedate space, wondering about her destination.

Was she intending to massage her worries away?

His mind got busy again, picturing her naked on a table, a towel covering the delectable curve of her butt. Maybe he’d sneak in, pay off the real masseuse and help himself to the wealth of her golden skin.

He’d warm his hands by spreading coconut oil between his palms and then he’d stroke her shoulders, knead the tight muscles there. After long minutes he’d work his way down her back.

She’d moan.

At the thought of the sound of her pleasure, he had to shift on his seat and adjust the tight fit of his jeans. Damn, he thought, watching her exit her car as he idled behind a commercial-size Dumpster. Could he do it?

But instead of the spa, she approached the library and pushed some books through the mouth of the outside depository. Then she returned to her car, those big dark glasses still obscuring most of her face and all of her mood.

He’d go to her, he thought. Shove up the shades and look deep into her eyes. His hand went to the door handle. Then he’d tell her—

Just as a law enforcement vehicle whizzed by on the highway, the bar of lights on its roof flashing, and he caught himself. His hand jerked away from the door.

Maybe he was a criminal. Because it was criminally stupid to forget the promises he’d made to himself.

She wasn’t for him.

She wasn’t his concern.

This unfamiliar need to serve and protect would only cause him trouble.

CHAPTER FIVE

BRETT RETURNED HIS focus to the only places it should be: work and family. He spent long hours on other people’s property, tiring himself out physically so that the only energy he had left was to grab take-out for dinner before heading to the remote cabin where he was living on the family property.

Though there was plenty of gourmet fare to be had in Blue Arrow Lake, he was grateful for the invitation to have a home-cooked meal with his siblings and their significant others at Poppy and Ryan’s place a few days later. He arrived with a stack of fresh clothes and used one of the guest bathrooms at the expansive estate to clean up before joining the rest in the huge kitchen. Ryan handed him a beer and Poppy slid a plate of appetizers his way. He only took time to greet Mason, Poppy’s son, and then he chugged half the beer and ate a handful of crackers and cheese.

“Good,” he said around his last bite. “Thanks.”

In a more mellow mood than he’d been in of late, he settled onto his stool at the granite island and listened to the family chatter. Mason was sharing something about the classroom hamster. London, Jace’s teenage daughter, commented—kindly—without looking up from texting on her phone.

“Kid,” Brett called, waving to get her attention.

She glanced at him, her expression open, her face devoid of the heavy black makeup she’d worn when she’d first arrived months back. “Yes?”

“High school going okay?”

“High school’s going great . I’m on the homecoming committee and the yearbook staff, and my chemistry teacher wants me to wash the beakers and stuff during my free period. I’ll even get paid.”

“Yeah? Proud of you.” Then he injected pitiful into his expression. “Too busy to help out with my files every once in a while?”

Her brows came together and her voice took on a scolding tone. “Uncle Brett.”

He loved that she called him that, he’d admit it. She was a great kid and that she feel comfortable in the family was a goal of every Walker. “I know, I know,” he said, hanging his head.

“You’ve let the paperwork get away from you again, haven’t you?”

He thought of the sheets swirling in the wind and Angelica and he racing around to retrieve them. Her pink cheeks, upturned ass, cold hands. His very basic urge to warm her in every way possible. “You can say that again.”

London sighed. “I’ll see what I can do,” she said, returning her attention to her cell, “my next free Saturday morning.”

“Thank you,” he said humbly. “I sure appreciate it.”

His sister Mac dropped onto the stool beside his and spoke into his ear. “You big con.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” he said, all innocence.

“Making London feel sorry for you. She’s not onto you yet, but any minute now...”

“Shh,” Brett said. “I’m milking it for as long as I can. And it’s true I need her help. You know how lousy I am with the invoices and billing.”

Mac shook her head. “Anyway...you hear the news?”

“Uh...” He’d been avoiding all media, not wanting to get sucked into any drama involving the duplicitous Ralph Rodriguez. “No. And I’m liking keeping my head clear of such stuff, thank you very much.”

“There was another break-in.”

The relief that she wasn’t talking about anything Angelica related was short-lived as the new information sunk in. He groaned. “I don’t like this.”

Poppy nodded. “Me neither. I’m worried about you out at the cabins by yourself when there’s criminal activity going on in the area.”

Ryan slid his arm around her shoulders and kissed the top of her head. “Sweetheart, your brother could scare the crap out of a grizzly bear if he had a mind to.”

Brett appreciated the vote of confidence, but all he said was, “Hmm.” Then he tapped his chin. “Should we abandon the property again then, Pop?”

“No,” she said quickly. After a second her eyes narrowed. “You’re teasing.”

The idea of refurbishing the cabins at the abandoned property and turning them into a revenue stream for the Walker family was her baby. Somehow, though legend said the land was cursed, the siblings had been persuaded to get behind the idea. After a fire in the most secluded cabin in the woods occurred a few months back, Brett had even moved into another of the bungalows, partly as security and partly to make it more convenient for him to do his share working on the buildings in his—admittedly limited—free time.

“I’m teasing,” he admitted.

Jace strolled up, beer in hand. “Sorry I haven’t been much use out there recently.”

“Hey, I understand,” Brett said. “You’ve got to get your home base established here.” Glancing over at London, he wagged a thumb in her direction. “Somebody else seems to be getting established just fine.”

The other man smiled at his daughter. “I’m a lucky guy.” He reached over to snag Shay’s hand and draw her to his side. “Even mountain fires have been blessings for me.”