“No, that’s sugar.” I laughed as Garrett stared at the measuring scoop in his hand with a confused expression.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” I pointed to the next large jar on the counter. “That’s the flour.”

He plucked the red lid off and stared down into the contents. “This looks just like the one I picked.”

“No it doesn’t. Flour is powdery. Sugar is grainy. All in the consistency. Did you never take a home economics class or even watch your mom cook?” I flipped the eggs and eyed the crisping bacon.

It was our fourth morning together after Bonnie brought groceries. Teaching Garrett how to cook had proven more difficult than I’d first thought, but he’d learned how to make an omelet, broil meat until it was done, and whip up a decent chicken salad.

“No. I was busy.”

“Doing what?” I scooped the bacon onto a plate covered with paper towels.

“Chasing girls, I guess.” He shrugged.

I arched an eyebrow as he leveled a scoop of flour and dumped it into a mixing bowl. “Literally or figuratively?”

He smiled. “A little of both.”

The more time we spent together, the more I saw the version of him that existed before Joan, before Lillian, and before everything that seemed to trap him at Blackwood. It scared me how much I liked him, the real him. He hadn’t slept with me again after that first night. I didn’t ask, though I wanted to keep trying to break down his walls. As he cracked an egg into the flour and started digging out the pieces of shell, I realized I was breaking them down. Cooking with Garrett seemed an impossibility only a week ago. Now we worked in the kitchen like a team, easy with each other in a way that should have seemed peculiar but didn’t.

“You get all the shell?” I peeked around him as he flicked a jagged piece into the sink.

“Think so. What now?”

“Buttermilk.” I pulled open the fridge and handed him the carton.

“How much?”

“Pour. I’ll say when.”

He opened the container, his large hands making quick work of the cardboard. I let my eyes wander up his sinewy forearms to the ink at his elbow. Other than some looks that could melt a glacier, he hadn’t touched me or made a move. The tension built, invisible but so thick it was almost tangible. I had to force myself to stay in my room at night instead of creeping to his.

My leg had healed since my run, the wounds sewing together faster the second time. My limp was all but gone, and I intended to restart my investigation in the next few days.

“That much?”

I snapped out of my gawking at his arms and looked in the bowl. He’d poured almost all the buttermilk because I hadn’t said “when.”

“When!” I put my hand on his wrist. “My bad.”

“Daydreaming over there?”

“No, I was, um… Just stir the batter and add another cup of flour. That should sort it out.” I returned to the stove and slid the eggs onto a plate.

We wound up making enough pancakes to feed all of Browerton, but the food was good, and we enjoyed each other’s company as we ate.

When I’d cleaned my plate and rubbed the food baby growing in my stomach, a grating noise from outside caught my attention. I turned to stare out the dusty dining room window. “What was that?”

He dabbed at his mouth with his napkin and rose. “Special delivery.”

“Of what?”

“Come and see.” He smiled and held out his hand.

I took it, and he pulled me to my feet. In all the time I’d been at Blackwood, only Bonnie or the sheriff ever visited. I couldn’t imagine what a “special delivery” entailed.

We walked down the middle hallway and out the front door into a bright, cold morning. A large white truck idled in the driveway, a flatbed trailer attached to the back. Two red ATVs sat on the trailer, their new chrome shining in the sun.

Garrett hopped down the front steps as a man opened the truck door and stepped out.

I peered at the trailer. “What’s that?”

“What’s it look like?” Garrett called over his shoulder.

I slid on my sneakers and walked out behind Garrett. My t-shirt and jeans did nothing to keep the chill at bay, but my curiosity overcame the temperature.

“Mr. Blackwood?” The man tipped his camouflage ball cap at Garrett.

“That’s me. You Gene?”

“Yes, sir.” He paused for a second, then continued, “This may sound odd, but man, nice beard. I been trying to grow mine out.” Gene rubbed his graying patches of scruff.

“Thanks, I’ve had it for about two years. Low maintenance.” Garrett shot me a sly smile. “Most women seem to like it.”

The beard had grown on me, but I wasn’t about to admit that to Garrett, so I said nothing and walked past to look at the ATVs. They had every bell and whistle imaginable, and I could cover a lot of ground on one of them.

“If the missus saw you, she’d be all for the beard. Me, though.” Gene shook his head and shrugged. “I’ll probably be back to shaving in a few days. Anyway, these are the ones you paid for. Top of the line, brand new, and fast as lightning. I just need your John Hancock.”

Garrett took a clipboard from Gene and signed a sweeping signature.

I leaned forward on the trailer and stared at the nearest vehicle, disbelief almost overwhelming the gratitude that welled up inside me. Had he really done this for me?

“You like them?” Garrett walked up to my side, our arms touching lightly.

I stared into his eyes, their blue tinted lighter by the bright sky. “Are they for me?”

“Well, one of them is, but you can have both if you want to get greedy.”

“Thank you.” The words felt inadequate on my lips.

He didn’t seem to notice the shortcoming, because he smiled, his eyes sparkling with genuine joy. “You’re welcome.”

“No, I mean it.” I covered his hand with mine.

He looked at my hand, then locked eyes with me again. “It’s my pleasure.”

“This is too much.”

Gene unfolded the back of the trailer with a clank and rolled the ATVs down onto the driveway.

“I don’t want the liability of you falling in the woods or getting attacked by wild boars again.” Garrett ran a hand through his unruly hair. “Insurance rates and all that could be a real pain with you wandering around the property. That’s why I got these.”

“That’s the only reason? Liability?” I walked over to the nearest ATV and tried to fight back my smile. The smile won.

“Give her a try.” Gene patted the ATV. “Key’s in the ignition.”

I threw a leg over and settled onto the black leather seat. “It’s really big.”

“I’ll be sure and tell the missus you said that.” Gene winked and lifted the back gate of the trailer into place.

The rumble of an engine filtered through the trees. I glanced to Garrett, but his eyes searched the expanse of woods around the driveway.

“Something else?” I followed his stare.

“Not that I know of.”

“Well, I’ll be off then.” Gene tipped his hat at me. “Keys are there, and if you have any issues, you know where to find me.” Gene shook Garrett’s hand and gave me a smile before climbing into the truck.

He cranked the engine and pulled to the back of the house to turn around. The source of the other engine noise appeared on the driveway—a muddy SUV emblazoned with the sheriff’s logo.

“Whoa.” I stood and watched as my car approached behind the SUV. It looked none the worse for wear. How did he find it?

“What is it?” Garrett kicked the tires on the other ATV.

“They found my car.”

Sheriff Crow pulled into the grass as Gene passed and waved. A deputy parked my car behind the SUV and got out. I hurried over, ignoring the chill that started to set in despite the bright sun.

“Where did you find it?” I leaned inside and put my knee on the driver’s seat. Everything seemed untouched. Popping open the glove compartment, I found my gun just where it should have been.

“It was on a logging road, the L-8.” The red-headed deputy, who couldn’t have been older than I was, watched as I looked around.

Not possible. “That’s where I left it. When I went back, it wasn’t there.”

“We rode up on it this morning, found a spare key under the floor mat, and cranked it right up.” The redhead smiled and held out his hand. “I’m Deputy Fields, by the way.”

I shook his hand but stared at my car. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too. I’ve heard a lot about you from Bonnie and the sheriff. I’ve been looking forward to making your acquaintance.”

“Thanks.”

“Little Rory Fields.” Garrett walked to the passenger side and leaned over the roof of the car. “Last time I saw you, you had a mouthful of braces and a real body odor problem.”

Rory narrowed his eyes. “That was a long time ago.”

“Yeah, I see the braces are gone.” Garrett sniffed the air. “Not so sure about that other issue.”

I glared at Garrett, who gave me a shit-eating grin and shrugged. “What? It’s all true.”

“Mr. Blackwood, I don’t apprecia—”

Sheriff Crow put a hand on Rory’s shoulder and pointed his hat at me. “I told you we’d find it.”

Rory bit back whatever tirade he was about to start.

Garrett opened the passenger side door. “Anything stolen?”

“No, it’s all here. But I don’t understand how.” I shook my head, trying to figure out what the hell it meant. “You found it on the L-8?”

“Yeah.” Sheriff Crow patted the hood. “About seven miles off the highway, just like you said.”

“But it wasn’t there.” I stared at the car, wondering if I was losing my mind.

Rory hitched a thumb into his belt right next to his gun. “Maybe when you walked out of the woods, you were disoriented about what part of the road you were on?”

I wanted to tell him that wasn’t possible. My compass and my memory were just fine. But then again, if they found it on the road, maybe I’d missed it somehow?

“It’s just that I walked down the road for a good quarter of a mile. I should have seen it.” I crossed my arms over my chest as goose bumps from the frigid air or the ghost car raced across my skin.

“I don’t know.” Sheriff Crow snugged his hat on his head again. “But it’s here now. I guess that’s the most important thing.”

“Yes. Sorry. I should be thanking you for finding it.” I nodded at him. “I really appreciate it.”

“Just doing my job. Sorry it took so long. I been dealing with that hunting accident for days. Anyway, how’s the leg?”

“Much better. Garrett’s taking good care of me.”

“That’s what I want to hear. Maybe Bonnie will stop chewing my ass about letting you stay out here now.” Sheriff Crow grinned. “Then again, I like it when she gets onto me in front of Ty. I think the jealousy spices up their marriage, and it certainly inflates my ego.”

“Honesty from an elected official?” I laughed. “What reality are we living in?”

“I need to work on that for the next election cycle.” His easy smile was contagious. No wonder Bonnie had a crush.

“These are nice.” Rory walked over and ran his hand along the handlebars of one of the ATVs. “You still planning on doing your surveying, Miss Vale?”

“Looks like it. Garrett was nice enough to get the ATVs, so it should cut my field time in half.”

Rory looked up and caught my eye. “You know, I’m pretty familiar with these parts. I’d be happy to help you—”

“You’re about to freeze out here.” Garrett’s voice turned gruff as he walked around the car and took my upper arm. “Come on inside.” He started walking me toward the steps but called over his shoulder to Sheriff Crow. “Glad you and Junior Mouseketeer Rory stopped by.”

“It’s Deputy Fields.” Rory snapped.

Sheriff Crow cleared his throat. “Uh, all right. We need to skedaddle. Got a report of a…a poacher on Mr. Bowry’s property. Yep.”

“We did?” Rory didn’t seem convinced.

“Yeah, come on, son.” Sheriff Crow chuckled. “Let’s go check it out and leave them to it.”

“Nice to meet you, Miss Vale.” Rory’s hopeful voice only spurred Garrett to tighten his grip as he helped me up the stairs.

“I’m fine,” I hissed as Garrett walked me through the front door and slammed it behind us. “I can walk.”

He whirled to face me. “I know, and Rory Dickhead watched every step you took.”

“He was just trying to be polite. What’s your problem?”

He backed me into the door, and my body tingled with the memories of what happened the last time we were in this position. “My problem is that I don’t like him looking at you.”

The sound of the sheriff’s engine died away.

“That doesn’t give you a license to be an asshole!”

“I think it does.” His voice lowered.

I met his eyes and licked my lips. He followed the movement and bent his arms at the elbow until his body pressed against mine. My breath hitched, and I gripped his waist.

My desire for him, the fire that had burned low over the past few days, roared back. I couldn’t deny it, not anymore. Rising onto my tiptoes, I kissed him. He answered, smashing his lips against mine in a blaze of passion as he cupped my face. A low growl rumbled in his chest as his tongue swept into me. I trembled, all hint of the cold disappearing.

My nipples hardened and crushed into his chest as he ran one hand down to my ass. He squeezed hard, and I moaned into his mouth. His other hand dropped to my throat. I dug my nails into his sides as he pulled me close. My panties grew wet, and I ground against him shamelessly.

His hand tightened at my neck, and I bit his bottom lip. The sting of pain seemed to bring him back to himself in the worst way. He broke our kiss and stared down at me.

“What?” My voice barely made a sound.

“I won’t hurt you. Not like this.” He backed away and held his hands up. “I won’t.”

The stab of rejection sank deep inside me like a poisoned splinter. “Why?”

“You’re too…” His chest heaved, and his cock pressed against his jeans. “I can’t do this to you.”

His face began to blur as tears clouded my vision. “You can’t or you don’t want to?”

“It doesn’t matter.” He took another step away, then turned his back on me. “I won’t hurt you.”

“Fuck you.” I wanted to hit him, shove him, do something to show him that I wasn’t going to break. “I didn’t call black.”

His shoulders slumped. “I know, but I feel like…”

“Like what?” I demanded.

“I feel like if I do those things to you, those things that I want—” He let out a heavy sigh. “Look, it doesn’t matter. It’s just not going to happen. Things are good the way they are. Let’s keep them that way.”

I dropped my head and two tears plopped to the floor.

“I’m going to work. You, um, you get ready to start surveying or something.” He walked toward the library.

I turned my head away from him. I didn’t want him to see me cry. A flash of red caught my eye. My pea coat hung on a hook along with other jackets in the foyer.

I blinked hard, ridding myself of the tears. He opened the French doors to the library, his back to me. In a moment of pure impulse, I snagged the red coat and pulled it on. He still hadn’t turned around.

With a deep breath, I gripped the front door handle and pulled.

He turned then, and shot me a look so fierce I almost faltered.

“What are you doing, Red?” The warning notes in his voice only strengthened my resolve.

I gave him a smirk and my middle finger before taking off across the porch, down onto the lawn, and into the cold, shadowy woods.