Chapter One
“Who’s a good dog? Is it Echo?” Judd barely made it through the door before he was bulldozed by his hound. He staggered under the dog’s weight and rubbed his ears. “Did you chew up my boots today? You better not, you little shit.”
Echo barked in response, which had earned him his name. As a pup, every time Judd would speak to the spotted cattle hound with one blue eye and one brown, Echo would bark in answer.
Judd crouched to let the dog kiss his chin, Echo’s tongue scraping over the rough growth of hair put there after a long day on the job. Being sheriff in a small town shouldn’t seem as demanding as a big-city lawman, but at the moment, he was keeping the roads hot with petty thefts and drunk drivers.
He chalked it up to prewinter madness. Cozied up to the Wyoming mountains, Bracken would be snowed in from the outside world more than once this season, and that meant people went stir-crazy. When they felt that tinge in the air that heralded the end of the warm weather, they sowed their wild oats by stealing their neighbor’s ATV or drinking one too many.
Could be worse—Judd wasn’t borrowing trouble.
He planted a kiss on Echo’s snout and stood. The dog bounced in circles around his boots all the way to his food bowl in the kitchen. Wrinkling his nose at the dirty dishes he’d left in the sink last night, Judd filled Echo’s food and water dishes and leaned against the counter to watch him crunch the beefy nuggets and lap his water for what seemed like twenty minutes.
He pulled off his cowboy hat and ran his fingers through his hair. Coming home to a lonely house was bad enough, but he was hungry and tired.
No way was he doing the dishes or cooking himself a meal after the day he’d had. Running all over the county to catch a bail jumper. Should be his damn cousin Wes’s job, but Wes had bigger, more important cases to look after. Locating a guy on the lam from a misdemeanor wasn’t on his radar these days.
“Knock-knock!” The chipper voice of his neighbor projected into his house.
He bit off a groan as he walked to the door with a smile pasted on his face. “Hi, Brooke. Sorry I forgot to tell you I was home and you don’t need to let Echo out.”
At his name, Echo barked. Tail wagging to see his favorite friend. Brooke lived two houses over and often let Echo out and walked him since Judd had such long, crazy hours.
The woman also tried to get into his bed at least once a week.
She smiled at him, eyelashes dipping flirtatiously. Oh yeah, the woman knew what she was doing, right down to the way she stood near Judd. Hip pushed out, her breasts forward, ripe and ready for a man’s touch.
Except Judd wasn’t buying into that crazy. Not in a million years. He’d been with one blonde already, and she’d dragged him through the wringers—right after leaving him for their joint lawyer and taking half of everything he owned plus a hefty monthly alimony payment.
Brooke smoothed her blonde locks over her shoulder. “We could go for dinner if you haven’t eaten already. Pizza or Chinese?”
His stomach turned, and he didn’t know if it was the mention of the foods he ate far too often as a bachelor or the thought of Brooke’s company.
“Uh, thanks, but I’m eating in tonight.”
She looked past him to the messy kitchen. He noticed the air wasn’t so fresh coming from that direction.
“Yeah, I have some cleaning up to do. Then Echo and I are fixing dinner. If you wouldn’t mind stopping by tomorrow afternoon to see if he needs a walk, I’d appreciate it.” He herded Brooke to the front door and held it ready to close behind her.
Some men would be stirring with desire. She was pretty, thirty-something. Old enough to know better, in his opinion. He wasn’t a man a woman fucked around with.
She looked up into his eyes, and he braced himself for letting her down easy. He wasn’t a complete asshole, after all.
“Okay, I’ll do that. If you change your mind about dinner, give me a buzz.” She reached up and moved his hair off his temple with a stroke of soft fingers that made his body crave something more.
But not with her.
He rocked backward and gestured toward the door. “Thanks again, Brooke.”
Confusion and disappointment crossed her face as she left.
Okay, so he was a dick. She was a soft, willing woman. What harm could dinner hurt, besides losing half a night’s sleep from the indigestion the Chinese food would give him? Just because she had blonde hair didn’t mean she was Cassie, and his neighbor seemed genuine enough.
From the start, he should have known what he was getting into with Cassie. She was a daddy’s-girl-beauty-queen type. She’d put on an act, letting him believe she was a horsewoman and a country girl.
If designer boots fell into that category, then yes, she was. It hadn’t taken long before he’d seen her true colors, and by then they were hitched. Still, Judd had tried his hardest to make her happy with all the little gifts she needed from him to feel special. The holidays in the islands and special dates to theater performances in Seattle when he could get away from work.
But she hated him being sheriff, a job that was his life, and after that, everything was downhill.
He shook himself from his morose musings and looked down at Echo. He didn’t have a single beer in the house, and right now, a cold one would go down just right.
He took the dog outside in the back yard and let him do his business. Then he rubbed his ears and looked into his eyes. “I’m going down to the Slug and Chug for a few, and then I’ll come back and walk you, okay?”
Echo barked in answer.
Judd gave him another kiss—the best he could hope for as far as affection without strings attached. He locked up the house and set out for the barstool that cradled his ass more evenings than he’d care to admit to.
* * * * *
After a long, sweaty day moving and unpacking boxes, Cecily just wanted a damn beer. What did she get? The wrong change.
Cecily was not impressed with the service at the Slug and Chug in Bracken, Wyoming, a small town that was barely a speck on the map settled between mountain ranges. The bartender may have forgotten to hand her back the other twenty-dollar bill as her change, or maybe she’d pocketed it as a tip.
Cecily cleared her throat, but the bartender kept talking to a cowboy, elbow planted on the bar as she leaned in to laugh at something he said.
“Excuse me, you gave me the wrong change.” Cecily kept her voice as pleasant as possible when she was being blatantly ignored by the skinny blonde.
The bartender swung away from the cowboy to blink at her. “What was that, sugar?”
“I said you gave me the wrong change.” She held out the bills on her palm. “See? You gave me twenty-eight dollars back and I gave you a fifty.”
With narrowed eyes, the bartender came to stand in front of her. “You gave me a twenty.”
Cecily almost rolled her eyes. In her experience, not a lot of people these days knew how to make change without the cash register doing the subtraction for them, and clearly this was one. “If I did give you a twenty, then why did you give me twenty-eight dollars in return and a draft?”
“She’s got a case, Audrey honey.” The cowboy snickered, which had the bartender flushing crimson. She snagged the money off Cecily’s hand and counted it for herself. Cecily waited patiently, though her throat was parched and she just wanted to get her correct change and find a chair to collapse into. After twelve hours of work to move into her new day spa location, she was dead on her feet.
But she needed to cool it. She couldn’t make enemies so soon. In this little town, word would travel fast. She had experience with rumors and small populations—this was her second move in two years, thanks to her jackass ex-boyfriend.
The bartender stared at the cash in her hand and went to open her register drawer. The depths must have held some mystical answers to life’s quandaries, because the woman didn’t look up for a long time. This was getting ridiculous.
Cecily spoke up, “I gave you a fifty. The sign on the bar says drafts are two bucks. That means I should get forty-eight in change. You only gave me twenty-eight.”
This time, Cecily barely kept the annoyance from her tone. Simple math should be a skill of all bartenders. But apparently at the old Slug and Chug, the bosses only hired on looks. The brunette was pretty enough—if you liked a vacant expression and nothing between the ears.
“Just give me another twenty,” Cecily prompted.
“I’m just fillin’ in for a friend. This isn’t my real job.” With attitude, the woman fingered another bill from the drawer and handed over the correct change. Cecily met her glare with a wide smile and tossed a buck onto the bar top for a tip.
Here’s a tip—go back to third grade.
She curled her fingers around the frosty mug and took her draft to a corner near one of the windows. The Slug and Chug was built to look like an old-time saloon with a false front and a wooden interior. The place smelled like hops and fresh wood shavings, and Cecily enjoyed the atmosphere as she sipped.
She’d moved her day spa from Billings to Jackson Hole after her boyfriend asked her to move in with him. Just when her business started to boom and her spa been named as one of the town’s top places to visit, she discovered her boyfriend had been lying about something rather important.
Like the fact that he was dating two other women.
Cecily had promptly packed her stuff and moved out of his place, but they knew the same people, shared the same friends. Soon, living in Jackson Hole had become unbearable and she’d made the choice to make the move.
Her mind whirled around all the things she’d accomplished today—carting boxes from the downstairs shop area to her upstairs apartment on tiny cramped wooden stairs had gotten her ten-thousand steps today plus change. She was feeling the burn, and hopefully tonight she’d have a more comfortable place to sleep.
The previous night she’d unrolled a sleeping bag and camped out on the old hardwood. But at five a.m. she’d gotten up to go through her morning meditation and an extended yoga session to work out the kinks from her poor night’s sleep.
Then she’d hit the floor running and had managed to unpack most of the boxes. A lot of the time had been devoted to stocking the shelves with all the jams and jellies for sale. She’d spent hours affixing the tiny handwritten price stickers to each herbal remedy for sore muscles or organic hair conditioners just so, and after lining the bottles up with the labels all facing forward, she was satisfied.
“Draft.” The deep voice at the bar drew Cecily’s head up and she found herself staring at a set of broad shoulders—and a tall cowboy to match.
Helllllooo, Bracken.
With his white hat dipped low, she could see the longer hair on his nape. Strong thighs and a backside that filled out a pair of Wranglers like one of those hot rodeo guys she watched on TV completed the picture.
The bartender went goo-goo-eyed for the newcomer and she poured him a draft without giving him the wrong change. He didn’t turn so Cecily could see if his face matched the rest of his good looks as he settled on a barstool.
Another guy at the bar engaged him in conversation, but Cecily didn’t eavesdrop. Her momma had taught her better.
Her mind returned to all the things she still needed to unpack. Tomorrow the moving company would deliver her massage table and her spa chairs, as well as some hairdressing equipment. She was a one-woman operation, doing hair, makeup, nails, massages, facials and waxing services. She was able to keep the overhead low if she did everything herself. But if business picked up, she’d hire some help.
She expected the winters to be better since Bracken was a skiing town, and there would be plenty of ski bunnies wanting her spa services.
The chair across the table from her scraped as someone pulled it out. A denim-clad behind smacked into the seat, and she looked up at the man who’d just joined her without asking.
Dark hair, dark eyes. Good-looking in a way that was a bit more polished than she preferred, like one of those cowboys who shopped at Nordstrom’s instead of the local outfitter.
Not that she was interested.
“Howdy, sweet thing. What’s your name?”
“Cecily.”
The guy looked over her head toward the bar. Cecily resisted the urge to turn around and see who he was looking at.
“Haven’t seen you in town before. You the one who just moved into the shop on the corner?”
She nodded, realizing the few people in the Slug and Chug had quieted to listen to their conversation. Apparently, their mommas hadn’t taught them as well.
The man across from her looked to the bar again. She turned now, shot a glance at the man at the bar, but he kept sipping on his beer, back to her.
“My name’s Jake. Want to have a twirl around the dance floor? Jukebox has all the newest country ballads.” He extended a hand.
She stared at it for a moment. Not a callus in sight—he definitely wasn’t a cowboy.
Not that she was choosy, but most cowboys weren’t interested in a girl like her—a Vegan with a hand in holistic approaches. Frankly, her ex hadn’t been into her either, and he’d been a district manager of a grocery chain.
She tapped a foot under the table as she decided how to respond to Jake. She should have used some of her own healing methods before leaving her shop—her legs and feet were protesting so loudly, there was no way she could take a twirl even if she wanted to. She shook her head. “No thanks. I’m tuckered out.”
Jake narrowed his eyes at her. “You sure about that?”
She blinked at the new force of his tone. “Um, yes. Thank you anyway. I’ve had a long day.”
He pushed out of his chair to stand and hovered over her. The scent of alcohol hit her. “C’mon. This’ll be our song.”
Before she understood what was happening, he’d plucked her from her seat and wrapped an arm around her middle. He hauled her to the small area cleared of tables where a jukebox played at the side. The country twang of a ballad did nothing to soothe her, not when she didn’t feel like dancing and had been dragged here against her will.
Jake crushed her against his body, and she shoved away. He yanked her right back. She felt like a Slinky, which wasn’t good. Didn’t those always get tangled loops?
Suddenly, a hand came down on Jake’s shoulder. He flinched at the strength of those long, tapered fingers spattered with dark hair on the knuckles. “Lady doesn’t look like she wants to dance.”
“Bug off, Roshannon.” Jake pulled her near again, and she was helpless against his strength, drawn like a rag doll to a possessive child.
“I said this lady doesn’t want to dance.” Roshannon braced his legs wide in a stance that rang with a battle cry he never issued from his lips. Cecily threw him a pleading look over Jake’s meaty shoulder.
Roshannon’s eyes, steely gray and sparking with anger, bored into hers. He caught Jake’s shoulder again and this time spun him. Jake had no choice but to let her go, and she stumbled a few steps away while the men faced each other.
“What’s your problem, Roshannon? Think you own this town, don’t ya?”
“No, but I own part of this bar. And if you ever want to pass through those doors again, you’ll do as I say and leave.”
Jake glared, mouth twisted and fists clenched. Cecily took another step backward. If they started throwing punches, she was making a run for it—she wasn’t that thirsty.
Roshannon sent her a piercing look. “Go out to my sheriff’s cruiser and wait for me.”
Cecily blinked. Was she being arrested for starting a bar fight?
“Now,” Roshannon barked at her as Jake cocked his fist.
His authority and harsh command left her no choice.
She darted around the pair and ran. Behind her, thuds sounded along with a few grunts. As she burst out the front doors onto the wooden walkway leading to the parking lot, a smashing noise of breaking wood erupted behind her.
She spotted the sheriff’s vehicle parked in the lot, the black lettering on the side of a white SUV. What the hell? She’d been in town less than twenty-four hours and she was already being arrested.
Though it seems pretty damn lazy of a sheriff to not even walk his perp to the vehicle.
She opened the door and slid into the back of the SUV. A screen separated her from the front. Oh God, how had she ended up here?
Cecily’s breathing came in harsh pants as she stared at her numb fingers. With her luck, she’d land a headline in the Bracken newspaper. Newcomer Arrested for Starting Bar Fight Between Man and Honorable Sheriff. Her momma would be humiliated.
Long seconds passed. When the door whipped open, she gasped.
Roshannon stood there looking like an avenging angel, hat pulled low over his eyes and one of his knuckles bleeding. “What are you doing in the back?”
“You told me to get in.”
“I told you to wait for me. You’re not being arrested.”
Okay, now she felt stupid.
He reached out for her. His warm fingers enveloped her freezing ones—her nerves had gotten the best of her—and he drew her out of the vehicle. Her boots hit the gravel and she tried to focus on anything but the thudding of her heart.
“Look, Cecily—”
“How do you know my name?” she blurted.
His gray eyes warmed a degree. “You told Jake back in the bar. Look, you’re not in trouble. I just wanted you to get out of there so I can see you home safe. That dumb shit doesn’t know when to stop.”
“I— Thank you.” She felt so stupid. What had made her think she should get into the sheriff’s vehicle? She’d basically just booked herself for no crime at all.
Roshannon opened the passenger’s door and gestured for her to get in. After she did, he closed the door and walked around to the driver’s side. She watched the way he moved, his long strides like those of a predator, the muscles of his thighs bulging with every step.
Once he was settled behind the wheel, he shot her a glance. “You okay? Bad luck to meet up with that asshole on your first day in Bracken.”
“How do you know it’s my first day?”
The corner of his lips twitched in what might be the beginnings of a smile, but the man looked hard enough to chew nails for breakfast and horseshoes for lunch. Creases extended from his eyes, but they were probably from glaring at people and not from smiling.
“I know everything that goes on in this town. Jake won’t bother you again.”
“You hit him? Your knuckle’s bleeding.”
He looked down at his hand and then stuck the knuckle in his mouth and sucked on it. “Nah, I didn’t hit him back. I just kept him from doing me any damage.”
She glanced over his strong form in the seat beside her. Her first day in a new town and she was meeting people in all the wrong ways.
“He’d had too much to drink,” she said.
“That reminds me.” He grabbed his CB radio and spoke into it. “Birdie, get Troyer out here to the Slug and Chug for a drunk driver.”
Cecily widened her eyes.
Female tones projected through the CB. “On it, boss.”
Roshannon sent Cecily a sidelong look—and yep, there definitely was a hint of a smile toying with the corner of his granite-hard lips. “Just keepin’ the roads safe.”
She tangled her fingers in her lap. “He wouldn’t take no for an answer.”
“Jake never does. You aren’t the first woman he’s harassed that way. You can rest assured next time you go into the Slug and Chug he won’t be there. He’s banned.”
She looked up at him. “You don’t need to do that on my account.”
“I know. He’s a menace, and I’ve been looking for a reason to toss his ass out for a long time.” He drove down the street and parked in front of her storefront on the corner. “This place could use some fixin’ up.”
“Oh, I have plans to give the front a new coat of paint and add a cute sign. It will be nice by opening day.”
He gave her a single nod that shouldn’t make her belly tingle. But it did. “Best of luck to you, Cecily.”
“Thank you.” For the ride, for stopping that jerk from forcing her into a dance and maybe more? She climbed out and studied Roshannon’s face. His square jaw was set, his mouth seamed in his ruggedly handsome, tanned face.
“Welcome.” The single word held as much warmth as an avalanche. She stepped onto the curb and watched him drive away.
* * * * *
Judd Roshannon strode into the sheriff’s station, feeling the aftereffects of meeting a beautiful woman. No, not beautiful—fucking gorgeous. Cecily Baker was her name, he’d known that from seeing her application for a business license here in Bracken. At the time, he hadn’t given it much thought, but now that he’d seen her, he wanted to know more.
Birdie looked up from her position behind the huge metal, circa 1955 desk. Her big glasses made her look owlish, which was probably how she’d gotten her the nickname. “Troyer snagged a DUI and is bringing him in.”
Judd grunted and continued to his office. He shut the door and sank to his seat before a tower of paperwork he needed to work through tonight. Looked like he was ordering in pizza again.
As he reached for the first file, his cell vibrated. He dug it from his pocket and stared at the screen before bringing it to his ear. “Hey, asshole, what’s up?”
“You realize whatever traits make me an asshole, you share. That’s how it works with twins.” His brother Aiden’s words made Judd shake his head.
“Just because we’re twins doesn’t make us exactly the same.”
“Name one thing you don’t like that I do.”
“Popcorn,” Judd said at once. He flipped open a file. The paper wasn’t something he was ready to address, so he put it aside and reached for the next.
“That’s only because you choked on a piece one day. Now you’re afraid of dying.”
“Who isn’t? What do you want, Aiden?”
“Ma’s having a big dinner Friday. Wants all of us boys there.” Meaning he and Aiden and their cousin who’d been raised alongside them, Wes.
“Just us boys or are you bringing Amaryllis?” His brother had gotten hitched a few months back, and Judd never saw them apart. They worked together and were sidekicks in life as well.
Deep down, Judd was happy for his brother, but it nauseated him at times too. The whole marriage thing wasn’t what it was cracked up to be.
“Of course Amaryllis is coming. Long and loudly, if I have my way.”
Judd snorted. “You’re a sick fuck, brother. I don’t need to hear this. And I don’t know if I can make it to Ma’s dinner. Looks like I’ll be doing paperwork for the next…” he shifted more files around, “five years.”
“Dump it on Birdie’s desk and meet us at Eagle Crest.”
Just the mention of their home ranch sent a feeling of calm through Judd. He could nearly smell the chicken frying and the whiff of buttermilk biscuits fresh from the oven. On the heels of that were remembered scents he associated with his father—tractor grease and fresh-cut hay.
He sat back in his seat and glared at his heaping desk. Maybe getting away for a weekend would refresh him enough to dig into this mess of paperwork come Monday.
“Ma’s making sauerbraten.”
Judd perked up. “She’s trying to bribe me.” The German dish was his favorite, one he always asked for on his birthday.
“She knows you wouldn’t show up otherwise. You haven’t been there in months.”
“Been a bit busy playin’ sheriff.”
“Let those deputies do their jobs and I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”
“Aiden, I can’t make it tomo—” He was cut off by his twin ending their call.
Judd tossed his cell onto his desk and removed his Stetson. Running his fingers through his hair, he wondered what was important enough that his mother was making his favorite meal to get him to Eagle Crest. Maybe she did just miss him, but she was a Roshannon, and every Roshannon had a motive.
He dug into his mountain of paperwork. After thirty minutes, Troyer knocked at his door.
Judd looked up and settled his hat on his head. “Get Jake all settled in a cell?”
“Yeah, he’s made his one phone call—to his momma.”
Judd shook his head. “If she bails him out again, she deserves him.”
“Can’t fault a momma for wanting to protect her son.”
Narrowing his eyes, Judd said, “What do you know that you’re not sayin’?”
Troyer was a big guy, as broad as a bar bouncer and as gentle as they came—unless you crossed him. Then prepare to get your ass kicked. The man pinched his fingers together and made a gesture over his sealed lips to show he wasn’t talking.
“I’m sure Aiden’s been talkin’. Guy can’t shut his mouth.” Judd returned to his paperwork. If he could blast through a bunch of this tonight, he’d go off to Eagle Crest feeling lighter.
“Saw your brother and Amaryllis yesterday. They’re working a case with a bunch of steers going missing.”
“Nobody better than those two to find ’em. You’re on-call this weekend. I’m heading home to Eagle Crest.”
“Figured as much. Enjoy yourself and try to get that stick out of your ass while you’re at it.”
Judd snapped his head up and pierced his deputy in his stare. Troyer meant well, but Judd didn’t want to hear from another single person how uptight he was—he’d been listening to it since his wife left.
“Heard you gave the new shopkeeper a ride home from the Slug and Chug.”
“Heard that, did you? Word travels fast.”
“Jake can’t keep his mouth shut if you superglued it. So what’s she like? I heard she’s all chakras and herbal hocus-pocus but a pretty little thing.”
Judd gripped the pencil he was holding so tight he felt the wood flex. The image of Cecily Baker filled his head, and a strange tightness took up residence in his chest. He didn’t know about the chakras. “Guess you could say she’s pretty.”
“Hmm, maybe I’ll call over the weekend. Let her know we patrol the main strip regularly to prevent crime.”
Now why did Judd want to grind his teeth and growl at Troyer stopping in to the new shop? Having a pretty woman in his passenger’s seat didn’t mean he had dibs on her.
Not that he wanted to stake a claim to any woman. After dealing with Cassie leaving, and the resulting wreck of a divorce where he’d lost his ass, he wasn’t interested in anybody.
Let alone a beautiful little ringlet-curled brunette who was far too obedient for her own good. Hell, she was so obedient she’d booked herself like she was a criminal, like she’d done something wrong.
Hell, that unwarranted trust in him was so right, he couldn’t even think on it.
The tightness in his chest swelled, filling him completely with a desire he could not—would not—own right now.
Or ever again.
That part of his life was gone, dead and buried. Hell, he’d sealed the lid of the coffin shut with his own muttered vow. Never again would he let that dominant—kinky as hell—side of his personality out.
He’d let Cassie see his true inner need to dominate in the bedroom and promptly scared her away. After one night, she’d run home to her parents and called him a monster. He’d kept things vanilla after that, but they’d never been okay. Not really.
Then she’d fucked their lawyer and filed for divorce, taking half of his holdings, possessions and hell, his gold cufflinks from the wedding.
Not to mention gotten a socking amount of alimony for mental pain and suffering she associated with that night he’d tied her up.
If he’d unleashed his real beast, she would have everything he owned and he’d be committed.
Troyer was speaking. “A day spa. Wonder what services she gives.”
Judd leveled a glare at his deputy.
Troyer held up his hands and backed toward the door. “Was just thinking about getting a cut and shave, boss.”
“You need it. Get the hell out of my office and let me work in peace.”
His deputy went away with a flash of a grin, leaving Judd to mull over their conversation.
And Ms. Cecily Baker.
When he’d opened the back door of his SUV and seen her sitting there with her hands knotted in her lap, believing she was under arrest, Judd had wanted to pick her up and cuddle her like a damn puppy. She was soft and vulnerable and the urge to protect was a huge thing in the Roshannon men. Those big green eyes of hers hadn’t helped matters either.
What he wouldn’t give to have those eyes trained on him as he ordered her to strip—
He cut off the thought and stomped on it until it was dead. No way could he let his thoughts roam to those darkest depths, where he ruled a woman in the bedroom and she followed his every command. That part of his life was in the past.
Besides, he had no room for women these days. His damn ex had made sure of that.