The day had been perfect. I didn’t want it to end, and when Dylan pulled up in front of my apartment, I invited him in. “You can’t stay long. I have to get ready for work.”

He gave me that lopsided smile that I was coming to adore. “Kick me out when you need to.”

I had the unsettling thought that I wouldn’t ever want to kick him out. I blinked away any notion of Dylan permanently in my life and headed to the kitchen.

“Taste this,” I said, returning with a shot glass filled with golden liquid. Dylan eyed the glass with suspicion, which I found amusing. I hadn’t missed his dilemma when Hamburger had reached his hand into his legendary canvas bag, the one every person born in the valley knew held moonshine.

The thing about Hamburger, he rarely sold the mason jars filled to the brim with some of the best ’shine this side of the Mississippi. He used to, but after his last arrest and a stern warning by Judge Padgett, Hamburger had started giving the stuff away. It was beside the point that every one of us lucky enough to get a jar of Hamburger’s liquid gold never charged him for whatever he bought or consumed when in one of our establishments. Mountain bartering at its best.

“I’m not stupid, you know,” Dylan said, taking the shot glass from me. “I’m aware of what this is.” He drank it anyway, tossing the contents down his throat.

I waited for his reaction and wasn’t disappointed at seeing his eyes widen.

He licked his lips. “That tasted like apple pie.”

“Good, huh?”

“Very, but honeypot?”

I sputtered a laugh. “Mmm?”

“Next time you give me some of that, lie. Tell me I’m drinking a flavored fruit drink or something.”

Although he winked when he said it, I knew he was half serious. Hamburger Harry’s moonshine was obviously a quandary for Dylan, but he’d get used to small-town ways soon enough.

“Will do, Officer. Now give me a kiss so you can take off.”

“I can do that.”

He prowled toward me, a wicked gleam in his eyes. Before he even touched me, my body hummed with anticipation. Because I already knew that he had the ability to make my knees weak, I backed up against the wall so I’d have something to lean on. He chuckled as he put his hands along the sides of my head, his gaze capturing mine.

“I want my mouth on yours, Red. I want my mouth on your neck and shoulders, on your breasts and the sweet curve of your ass. I think a lot about tasting you. All over. It will happen, but not tonight.”

“When?” I rasped. No man had ever sent damp heat to my core with only words the way Dylan just had.

“When you’re ready.”

He covered my mouth then, stopping me from yelling, Now! I’m ready now. His tongue swept inside, and he tasted like apple pie, sweet and tangy. I wrapped my arms around his neck, and he pressed his hips against mine, letting me feel how much he wanted me.

I moaned. The little bit of my brain that still worked suggested that I call in sick and let Dylan spend the night showing me what he could do with his talented mouth. It was tempting, but I’d never missed a day in the three years I’d worked at Vincennes, and Dylan was right. I wasn’t ready for him yet. I needed to get my head straight on what I wanted where this man was concerned. He was different. Special. That scared me because I could fall for him real hard. I couldn’t allow that to happen.

He lifted his head and stared at me, and I loved how his eyes had gone darker and dreamy-like. “I’ve never been kissed by a cop before you. I rather like it.” There went that grin that made my heart flutter.

“I’ve never been kissed by a mountain girl before you. I very much like it.” He kissed my nose. “What nights are you off?”

“Mondays and Tuesdays.”

“Let me pick you up Tuesday and take you to my apartment. We can cook a couple of steaks on the grill. You do eat meat, right?”

“I sure do, and I’d like that.” Plus, I was dying to see his place. You could get to know a lot about a person by their stuff. Yet… “Is all this still pretend? You know, you and me just being together to make whatshisname go away?”

He rocked his groin against me. “Does that feel pretend, Red?”

Since my mouth was incapable of forming words, I just shook my head.

“Good. I’ll come get you at five if that’s okay.”

“Five works.” He laid one more delicious kiss on me, then walked out the door. I slid down the wall on legs that had given up their job of supporting me.

On Monday mornings I always made a stop at Mary’s Bread Company to get a box of assorted doughnuts and three ready-made honey ham and cheddar cheese sandwiches on sourdough. Knowing I’d walk in the door around eight, Mary had my order ready to go.

Although there were six pastries in the bag, I was never charged for the two pecan bear claws. Those were my dad’s. Twelve years ago he had been serving his last term as the mayor of Blue Ridge Valley. One of the town’s wealthy and influential commissioners had wanted the land Mary’s bakery shop was on and had tried to force something called eminent domain—which we’d never heard of here in our small part of the world. Once everyone understood what it meant, there was a firestorm.

I don’t even remember why the commissioner wanted Mary’s land, but oh man, the yelling that went on at the town hall meetings for over a month. The commissioner had a lot of people who owed him favors, so it was him and his group against my dad, Mary, and everyone else.

From the time Natalie and I entered high school, Daddy made us go to open town meetings, saying that it was important for us to understand the workings of our community. Sometimes we found them interesting, and sometimes they were so boring that we could barely keep our eyes open.

During the time of the Eminent Domain War, or Mary’s Last Stand as it became known, we would sit, wide-eyed, watching people’s faces turn red and the spit flying out of their mouths as they nearly came to blows. Daddy refused to back down, though, even when the commissioner threatened to take over the town and run my father out with his tail tucked between his legs. My dad’s only defense for standing his ground was that what they were trying to do to Mary wasn’t right. After months of fighting, the commissioner finally gave up and, in a snit, sold his house and moved away. “Good riddance,” everyone said.

In Mary’s eyes, Daddy’s a hero. In mine, too. From then on, pecan bear claws—his weakness—have been free, no matter how hard he at first argued with Mary that he was just doing his job, and she should take his money. And every Monday morning I pick them up, along with the pastries for me and Mom, and the sandwiches, and take them to my parents, spending most of the day with them. After we have our coffee and Mary’s treats, I work in the yard with my dad for a few hours until lunchtime.

“Tell your daddy I put extra pee-cans on his claws, Miss Jenny.”

“I sure will.” She put extra pecans on his claws every week, but she liked reminding him. I pulled a twenty and a ten from my wallet and handed it over. Even though I only had sixty-seven cents due back, I knew better than to tell her to keep it.

The bell over the door tinkled. I glanced over my shoulder, expecting to see Mrs. Hershel. She usually came in around the same time I did, and I would always brace for a smothering hug. It wasn’t Mrs. Hershel, but I’d definitely be good with a hug.

“Morning, Dylan,” I said.

He smiled, his eyes lighting up at seeing me. “Jenny.”

That was all he said, but it was the way he drawled out my name, making it whispery, that had me inhaling air back into my lungs. He wore a dark blue suit, light blue shirt, and a gorgeous blue and red tie. Sunglasses were pushed up on his head, and the whole effect was of a CEO billionaire like those on the covers of some romance books. I wished I had my camera with me.

Mary cleared her throat, reminding me that she was there. “Ah, Mary, I’d like to introduce you to our new police chief, Dylan Conrad. Dylan, Mrs. Mary Ballard.” I kept my gaze on Dylan, wanting to see his reaction to Mary.