Scott got from the bedroom to the bathroom before realizing he’d done it without a crutch. He picked his leg up and set it back down. There was a little twinge there, but nothing bad. He wasn’t sure he’d go much farther without the crutch, but this was good.

He ignored his bottle of pain pills and opened the cabinet to grab the ibuprofen instead. And there, on his bottle of mouthwash, was a note that said, It’s a fresh new day!

Scott stared at it for almost a full minute. Peyton had left him a note. A perky, peppy, not-really-like-Peyton-at-all note. On his mouthwash. He wasn’t sure what to make of that.

He grabbed his crutch from the bedroom before heading to the kitchen.

Which was empty. Then he looked at the clock. It was after nine. He’d slept like the dead. Again.

Dammit, one of these nights he was going to not sleep through having Peyton in his bed. That was a hell of a thing—he finally had the girl sleeping with him and they were only sleeping.

But he couldn’t help but smile at the pan of muffins she’d left. She hadn’t just hustled out of the house without a thought. She was still taking care of him. And then he saw the canister of creamer. And the note.

I know you like French vanilla, but try this…it’s my favorite. I mean, caramel.

It was vanilla-caramel creamer. It was half-empty, which meant this container was from her house. She’d brought her favorite creamer over and was sharing it with him. And leaving him notes.

Really, really stupid to be turned on by that. But he was.

He pulled out his phone to text her, but his gaze landed on another scrap of paper on top of the coiled piece of elastic tubing on the table he was supposed to be using to exercise his leg. That note said, Girls dig scars…but not flabby muscles. Do your exercises!

Scott felt his grin stretch his mouth. That was more like Peyton. The mouthwash note had seemed forced. Like she wanted to leave him a note but wasn’t sure what to say. Like she’d never left silly, sweet notes for someone before. He really fucking liked that. But the note on the creamer was a little more casual. And now this one. Yeah, that was more Peyton. Maybe she’d gotten into the note-writing thing with a little practice.

And then he went searching. Something told him there were more notes for him. He was maybe supposed to find them throughout the day as he was in and out of the different rooms of the house, but he wanted to see them all now.

Sure enough, on the remote in the living room there was a note that said, There’s a Die Hard marathon on channel 134 today…if you get tired of Grey’s. Hot cop saving the day seems like your thing.

There was also one on the window of his kitchen door. It read, Turn around, go back to the couch and sit down. You need to heal.

The final note was on the dresser mirror in the bedroom—I ordered you a T-shirt. You’re welcome. With it, she’d hung a photo of the T-shirt. It said, “The last thing I want to do is hurt you…but it’s still on the list.”

He grinned. And was really glad his friends weren’t around to see how much he fucking loved this. That note was all Peyton. Even if she hadn’t actually ordered the T-shirt.

And this note had a smiley face. Peyton Wells had drawn him a smiley face.

Her notes were sweet, funny, and she was taking care of him. And drawing him smiley faces. Scott was ninety-nine percent sure she’d never left a note with a smiley face on it for any of the other guys she’d dated. That just wasn’t really her style. Except that it was, deep down. Where she cared about him.

Grinning like an idiot, Scott took four muffins and a cup of coffee with vanilla-caramel creamer into the living room and flipped on the TV. Then he pulled out his phone and texted her.

Hot cop saving the day seems like YOUR thing.

Then he started on the next episode of Grey’s Anatomy.

Her return text came a minute later. You’re right. I do have a thing for cops.

He smiled and felt warmth spread through him. This was working. She was writing notes even though it was totally out of her comfort zone. The notes didn’t have to be good. Just the fact she was writing them at all was amazing.

But they were good.

Then he bit into one of the muffins.

They were cinnamon. And beyond good. He moaned and grabbed his phone.

This is the sexiest muffin I’ve ever eaten. At least to date. And yes, I mean that in every dirty way possible.

She didn’t respond right away, so he hit play on the DVD player. He didn’t mind if she just thought about that for a little bit.

Ten minutes later her reply was WHAT?! A muffin isn’t sexy!

He grinned. She hadn’t been trying to be sexy but it seemed that she couldn’t help it. At least not with him.

I even find your toothbrush beside my sink sexy, Trouble. There’s nothing you can do that’s NOT sexy. And you know what cinnamon does to me. Don’t tell me you didn’t make cinnamon muffins on purpose.

I didn’t! I swear! I just…crap.

He laughed out loud. Can you come home for lunch?

No!

God, he liked her. Then I guess I’ll have to take care of myself. Again.

Scott!!!!

Laughing even harder now, he replied, What? And added an angel emoticon. He didn’t use emoticons. And definitely not angels.

The next text from her was a photo of the town square with Frank, Albert, Conrad and Larry, four the older men in town who were some of the biggest gossips and funniest citizens, playing horseshoes. It looked like a Norman Rockwell painting. Her message said Beautiful day out. You should go sit on the porch and read a book, or meditate, or call your mother.

He laughed. And didn’t reply.

Two minutes later, she texted again. Maybe your MOM could come over for lunch.

He grinned. His mom was a teacher. She couldn’t come over for lunch with him. But Peyton knew that and was simply trying to put images of his mother in his head.

Another two minutes later, she sent, Or your GRANDMOTHER. You should have lunch with her.

Yeah, well, he could do that, except that his grandmother was working too. She worked part-time at the flower shop. Also, he had a note on his back door telling him not to leave. But he wasn’t responding just yet.

Finally, she sent, You better not be jerking off while sniffing ground cinnamon or something!

He laughed. She wasn’t comfortable leaving sweet notes? Well, he wasn’t all that great with sexy texting. He hadn’t done it before. So, he’d been pondering what things to send her. Now he didn’t have to. Their conversation was naturally sweet and sexy at the same time.

Couldn’t find the cinnamon. Tried ginger. NOT the same reaction.

Her response was almost immediate and was simply six laughing face emoticons.

Scott settled back into the couch cushions and again started Grey’s with a very similar look on his face.

Two hours later, he got a photo from Peyton of a vase of flowers. Emma sent me these to say thanks for the cookies and ideas for her garden party this morning.

The second text came immediately after that—you better not find a way of making this dirty.

He hesitated. He loved that Emma had sent Peyton flowers and, more, that she’d appreciated Peyton and was publicly showing it. But he also couldn’t resist sending Really? A garden party? How can that NOT be dirty? He grinned as he hit send.

A moment later, he got another laughing emoticon.

It was crazy how much he loved the idea that he was making her laugh.

An hour later, she texted, How are you feeling?

You’re thinking of me constantly. That’s sexy too, he replied.

It is not! It’s sweet. I’m concerned.

You being sweet to me is sexy. Sorry.

She sent a frowning emoticon that time. But Scott wasn’t worried.

A minute later, she sent, I’m making strawberry cupcakes today. Thought these were your favorites but I didn’t know about the cinnamon thing.

He replied honestly. I didn’t know about the cinnamon thing either. That’s all because of you. My pillow smells like cinnamon since you’ve been staying here.

And he wanted it to smell like cinnamon every day for the rest of his life. He didn’t add that.

Ten minutes later, he still didn’t have a reply back to that though.

You there? he asked.

Yeah.

You okay?

That was just…really sexy. And I can’t think of something appropriate to say back.

He smiled at that. Can you think of something inappropriate to say?

Definitely.

Let’s hear it.

No way. I’m trying to be sweet.

I know…that’s really sexy.

ARGH!!

Scott finished season one of Grey’s Anatomy with a huge, stupid smile on his face.

* * *

A little after two in the afternoon, Scott heard a knock at his front door.

He got up from the couch smoothly, pleased that there was only the slightest twinge in his leg. He limped slightly on his way across the room, but made it without his crutch and without it taking an inordinate amount of time. All in all, something to be proud of.

He pulled the door open. And straightened.

Chase Walker, the kid who had shot him, stood on the other side. Holding a plate of brownies. And looking like he wanted to throw up.

“Hey, Chase,” Scott said easily. He pushed the screen door open. “What’s up?”

It was clear that the kid was not comfortable, but he held up the plate. “Peyton asked me to bring these over to you. Said you needed them today.”

So, Peyton had sent the kid over.

“She did, huh?” He took the plate.

Chase nodded. “Said it was easier for someone to bring them over than for you to get out and go to the bakery yourself.”

“Yeah. That’s true for the time being.”

Chase’s eyes drifted to Scott’s leg. The bandages were visible under the edge of Scott’s shorts. He watched the kid swallow hard.

He wasn’t sure if Peyton had sent Chase to make him face the consequence of his actions in person or to make the kid feel better that Scott was still alive and getting better, but it seemed like both things were happening.

“You know, I’ve been feeling pretty good the last couple of days,” Scott said. “But I was wondering, since you’re here, could you give me a hand with something?”

Chase looked up at him. “You really want my help?”

“Sure. If you’re up for it.”

“Yeah, definitely.” Chase almost looked relieved. “I’ll do anything you want me to.”

Scott could tell the kid he was fine, that Scott had forgiven him, that he knew Chase had learned his lesson. But he knew that actually doing something for Scott would go a long way toward making the boy feel better.

Now he just needed to come up with something for the kid to do.

“Well, it’s kind of a big job,” Scott said, thinking fast.

“That’s okay, I don’t care. I’ll do whatever,” Chase said quickly.

“You ever wash a truck before?” Scott asked. He mostly drove his squad car, so rarely had little use for his F-150. But he was a Sapphire Falls boy, so he still had to own one.

“I’ve helped my dad,” Chase said.

“Great. My truck could use a wash. The hose is on the back of the house, buckets in the shed. I’ll grab the soap and rags and meet you in the drive, okay?”

“Okay!” Chase turned to descend the steps, but looked back. “Thanks.”

Scott gave him a smile. “And after you’re done, I’ll show you the bullet hole. It’s pretty cool. And gross.”

Chase’s eyes flickered to Scott’s leg again, but a small smile tugged at his mouth. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Scott figured seeing the damage a bullet could cause would be something that would stick with Chase, but seeing it would also prove to the kid Scott was healing.

“Okay. Cool.” Chase headed around the corner of the house at a run.

Scott shook his head. It was good that Chase was here. That was a pretty amazing thing Peyton had done. Damn, he’d been crazy about her for so long it was hard to remember a time he hadn’t been, but it seemed every day she gave him another reason to want her. For good.

He made his way to the kitchen and gathered the rest of the supplies Chase would need. His phone rang just as he was carrying them outside. Setting everything on the pavement by the bucket Chase was filling with water, Scott glanced at the phone screen.

He’d hoped it was Peyton, but it was an Omaha number. “Hansen,” he answered.

“Scott. It’s Lance Shepard.”

“Hey, Lance.”

Lance was an FBI agent who had worked with Scott and the task force a number of times.

“Heard you got yourself shot,” Lance said, a touch of humor in his tone.

Scott laughed. “Yeah, taking a bit of a vacation.” It didn’t surprise him that the news had reached Shepard. The world of law enforcement was a small one, a tight brotherhood, and it really would have only taken Ed mentioning it to one other officer for it to spread, even as far as Omaha.

“How soon are you going to be back at it?” Lance asked.

“Not sure. Few more weeks probably,” Scott answered. “Why?” Lance wasn’t a guy to beat around the bush. He was not just calling to check in on a past task force member.

“We have a situation. North Dakota. I’d love for you to be a part of the team.”

Scott felt his heart thump. As it always did when he was called for a special operation. “North Dakota? That’s not really our area.”

“They want our team,” Lance said simply. “Told them I’d be in contact with everyone. We’re meeting in two weeks. I’d like for you to be there. In fact, I’d like you to go in with me and do the initial stay.”

“In North Dakota?” Scott asked.

“Yep.”

“Don’t know if I’ll be up to it in two weeks,” Scott said, his mind spinning.

He wanted to go. That was the clearest thought. He always wanted to go when they called him. And nine out of ten times he did go. But they were usually more local ops, and the last couple had been short and sweet. They’d gone off of solid intel and been able to bust in and make the arrests. This time Lance wanted Scott to be one of the guys gathering that intel. That was a lot longer process. It could take weeks. It would involve being away from Sapphire Falls, his work…Peyton.

Sapphire Falls was very supportive. Ed, TJ, Hailey, everyone involved in figuring things out when he was gone with the task force, were great about making sure he could do that work occasionally. But it had always been just a few days at a time before.

“You don’t have to be up to much. At least at first,” Lance said. “We’re going to go into a little town called Cedar Downs. It’s almost to the Canadian border. They’ll think we’re coming in to check things out for a possible takeover of the local lumber mill. That will give us a chance to hang out in town and talk to a lot of locals.”

“What’s going on?” Scott asked.

“Two girls have disappeared from there in the past month,” Lance said. “Three other unsolved disappearances in the past year in a hundred-mile radius. Two supposed runaways, but apparently local law enforcement is suspicious.”

“Why there?” Scott asked.

“That’s what we need to go find out.”

Scott watched Chase hosing down his truck, but his mind was only minimally on the boy. North Dakota? For an indefinite amount of time?

“You’re one of the best ones for the job,” Lance said. “You know how small towns work. You know what to look for. And you’re too shot up to be chasing all those bad guys through the streets of Sapphire Falls anyway. Come hang out with me in a pub in North Dakota so we can bust some bad guys.”

Scott scrubbed a hand over his face. “Let me think on it.”

“We meet in two weeks.”

“Got it.”

They disconnected and Scott tried to focus on Chase. But the kid was doing a great job. And Scott’s mind wouldn’t stop. He hadn’t done any task force work for a while. And while he’d never had much of an urge to go to North Dakota before, now he couldn’t stop thinking about who in that little town he’d want to talk to, what he’d want to look at, and how damned much he wanted to clean up whatever was going on there. Cedar Downs might not be Sapphire Falls— the town he’d sworn to himself he’d protect no matter what— but he’d bet all of the cookies at Scott’s Sweets that people in Cedar Downs showed up for the high school football games whether their kid was playing or not, and that they had some big Christmas tradition in town, and that parents loved the fact that their kids could ride their bikes up and down the neighborhood sidewalks without fear.

Fuck. Every town should be like that. And the people who went in and ruined that sense of peace and safety and happiness should be brought down.

* * *

Peyton walked in the door just after five. And just like that, Scott felt the churning in his gut stop. He’d been wound up ever since Lance’s call, but Peyton coming in through his back door like she owned the place, made it all better.

Scott turned from taking the homemade pizza out of the oven.

She took a deep breath of the oregano scented air and groaned. “Really?”

He nodded. “Really. How are your panties?”

She sighed. “So this is how it’s going to be.”

“Absolutely.” Yeah, he needed this. He needed her. To make him forget about the bad stuff out in the world for a while.

“Okay, then,” she said.

She came toward him and Scott tensed. Not in a bad, way but in a very good, instantly hard-as-a-rock, I’m-so-ready-for-this way.

But instead of wrapping herself around him, Peyton bent to grab another pizza pan from the cupboard. She transferred the pizza from the hot pan to the cold one, picked it up and started for the door.

“You’re kidnapping my pizza?” he asked.

“Nope. You sexied the kitchen up with oregano and pizza. So, I’m going to sweeten this up by making it a picnic while we watch the sunset.”

He couldn’t have been more surprised if she’d said she wanted to give the pizza to the squirrels in his backyard. “A picnic?”

“Come on, tough guy, you’ve been on a picnic before, right?” she asked with a mischievous smile.

Oh, yeah, he was all over this. “Actually, not since I was a kid,” he said, moving toward the cupboards where he stored his liquor. They might be going for a romantic drive to watch the sunset, but after the sun went down, the stars came up, and he had some ideas. “Have you been on a lot of picnics?”

He glanced at her when she didn’t respond right away. She was frowning.

“Now that you mention it, no,” she said. “Huh.”

He grinned. “You didn’t realize that you haven’t been on a lot of picnics?”

She shrugged. “The idea just came to me automatically. That’s kind of weird.”

It wasn’t one bit weird, but he wasn’t going to get into that. Peyton was still a little squeamish about things like being head over heels for him.

“I guess I’m better at the sweet stuff in person,” she said.

“What’s that mean?” he asked, moving to stand in front of her, a bottle of blue curacao in one hand and a bottle of peach schnapps in the other.

She lifted her shoulder again. “I kind of blew it with the sweet texts, but I think I can counter your sexiness in person.”

She’d done a hell of a job with the texting, but again, he wasn’t sure she was ready to hear all about how head over heels he was either.

“You’re better at dirty texting?” he asked. He didn’t really want her to answer that. He didn’t want to know about her texting with other guys, dirty or otherwise.

But she shook her head. “I’ve never really done dirty texting.”

“Really?”

“I text things like ‘meet you at seven’. Maybe a sexy selfie after a couple of shots but not really…words.” She frowned as if this was all a very thought-provoking realization for her too.

That made him smile. All of it made him smile. That she’d never dirty texted with anyone else. That she was surprised by that. He really wanted to just get her naked. Right now. Right here.

But he needed to give her a chance to pull this off. Hell, they were both out of their comfort zones here. He was only succeeding at sexy consistently because she found oregano a turn-on. And had a few erogenous zones on her feet. And liked his abs. It wasn’t as if he was really an expert at dirty texting either.

“Okay, let’s go, then,” she said.

“Right behind you.”

“Where’s your crutch?”

It was propped up next to the stove several steps away, actually. “I keep forgetting it as I get around,” he admitted.

She frowned. “Is that okay?”

“Yeah, they said to do what I felt like I could do.”

She chewed her bottom lip. “Maybe I’ll just text Kyle quick.”

“No. Do not text Kyle.” Lord, he was already getting enough shit from his friends about protective Peyton.

“Just to check,” she said.

“No.” He frowned down at her. “We’re going for a drive. And then we’ll be parking. I don’t intend to do a lot of standing or walking around, okay?”

She didn’t look happy, but she finally nodded and turned toward the door. He followed her out to her truck, grabbing a cap off the hook by the door. She set the pizza on the floor behind her seat and watched like a hawk as he climbed up into the passenger seat. He worked on not grimacing. It wasn’t difficult. It didn’t hurt that much, but he was stiff. He set the bottles on the seat between them and pulled his cap on. When he was finally settled on the seat, she climbed up behind the wheel.

They drove for nearly ten minutes without talking. Scott didn’t know where exactly she was taking him, but it wasn’t the most common make-out spot, Klein’s Hill, nor was it the park, or the river.

She turned off the highway onto a gravel road, then off the gravel onto a narrow dirt path leading through a field. They bumped along until they came to the top of a hill that looked down not onto the river, as most of the party spots did, but onto the town of Sapphire Falls.

The town was nestled in among the rolling rises and dips of the prairie. It was surrounded on all sides with fields and farms. Trees, fences, dirt roads, the highway, the river to the north, all added to the landscape. The deep greens and browns of the land and crops, the spots of color of houses and buildings, and the sky—the blue deepening as the sun sank, the western horizon streaked with pinks and oranges—looked like a painting. This was called the heartland for a reason. And Scott felt his chest tighten.

“Wow,” he said simply.

Peyton didn’t say anything. He glanced over. Her eyes were fixed out the windshield, and she had her bottom lip pulled between her teeth.

“This is gorgeous,” he told her.

She nodded. “It’s my favorite place.”

This was her favorite place. Not the Come Again, not the river, not her house. This hill that looked down over her hometown.

He had not been expecting that.

Scott flashed back to when Derek had said that it seemed that leaving would have been easier on Peyton but that there must have been something keeping her here.

“You come here a lot?”

She sighed. “Used to.” She looked over. “I come here alone. Usually.”

Scott wasn’t sure why she felt compelled to tell him that. But he was glad she had. He also wasn’t sure why she’d chosen to bring him here, rather than keeping it to herself. But he was glad she had.

He reached for the pizza. He was going to make this as casual and easy as he could. It was either eat pizza and look at the view, or grab her and make love to her right here on the front seat of her truck. He was pretty sure she’d go for the sex. In fact, he was positive she would. That would make it easy for her to pretend that she’d brought him here to make out. But she could have taken him a million other places for that. And he wasn’t sure she’d realized that yet. Or if she had, he didn’t want her thinking about it too hard. But he didn’t want her to turn this place into a make-out spot just to cover up that she was feeling more than that.

He handed her a piece and took one for himself. For a second, it seemed as if she wasn’t sure what to do with it. But finally she bit into it, sighed, and chewed.

They both got through half a piece before she spoke again.

“I would come out here when things got particularly crazy or confusing at home,” she said. “This view reminded me that there were bigger things than what was going on in my house.”

Scott swallowed. “That doesn’t mean that what was going on wasn’t important.”

She nodded. “Yeah. I know. I mean, it was. But I needed there to be more. Something bigger. I couldn’t let that…bubble…turn into everything I thought about. I needed to remember that the sun would rise and set the next day, that somewhere in that same town people were laughing, and kissing, and being thankful, and saying I love you. And in that same town, other people were arguing or were getting bad news or were making mistakes. It was just so good to look out there and think that I wasn’t…”

“Alone,” he said into the gigantic pause.

She looked over. “Yeah. It’s easy to think that what’s happening to you is the worst thing to ever happen, or to think that you got the short end of the stick, or to think that it will never get better.”

“And looking out over Sapphire Falls made you realize that everyone has shit going on in their lives.”

She shrugged. “Yeah. And…”

“And what?” he said, trying to make it sound encouraging and not the tell me now, I have to know that he felt swirling through his chest.

“The first time I came up here was during the festival,” she said. “And I was looking down on the town with all the lights and all the people and all the…happiness. I just was thinking that yeah, everyone has shit in their lives. People have arguments and people get sick and people hurt each other’s feelings and pets die and…a million bad things. But they still celebrate.” She looked over at him again. “You know what I mean? People still have birthday parties and weddings and summer camping trips and book clubs and soup and pie suppers and Christmas pageants and festivals. I mean, our ability to keep celebrating is amazing. We crave it. When you have a bad day, you want to hang with your friends and have a beer. When someone dies, we all hang around afterward and talk and tell stories and spend time with other people. You could get fired the day before Christmas, but if you go to the town square and get a peppermint hot chocolate and listen to the little kids sing carols in the gazebo, you can’t not smile. I just… People always celebrate. We don’t all just hole up in our houses and wallow in our sadness and forget about the Fourth of July and Halloween and,” her mouth curled up at the corners, “St. Patrick’s Day.”

St. Patty’s Day. His new favorite holiday ever.

Scott was watching her with such a combination of emotions pounding through his brain and body that he didn’t know where to start.

“We invented all of these holidays and turned them into the crazy parties that they are now. Halloween was some religious holiday, but we added candy and costumes and decorations and turned it into this big thing. And then you come to Sapphire Falls and it’s even crazier.” Her lips stretched into a full-blown smile. “I mean, we can’t just trick-or-treat here. We have to have zombie paintball tournaments.”

They sure did. Sapphire Falls did have a tendency to take every holiday and blow it up into something huge and fun.

And suddenly, Scott got it. Sapphire Falls was the Peyton Wells of small towns.

He grinned at her and she blinked. “What?”

“No wonder you stick around here. This is your place, Trouble.”

She smiled but her eyebrows still pulled together as if she was confused. “You think so?”

“You appreciate celebrating life. Nobody does that better than Sapphire Falls.”

She sat looking at him for a long moment. Then she crawled out from behind the wheel. The glass bottles between them clinked together when the seat dipped as she climbed over them and into his lap.

She straddled his thighs, and his hands settled on her hips naturally. She pushed his hat back, cupped his face between her hands, and kissed him. Just like that.

Her mouth was soft on his for nearly a minute. Then she slicked her tongue along his lower lip, and Scott’s fingers curled into her hips. She gave a little moan and wiggle, and he couldn’t help but press her more firmly against his fly. Her moan was louder that time and when her lips parted, he took advantage, sweeping his tongue into her mouth. He splayed one hand in the middle of her back, bringing her closer and tangling his other hand in her hair, holding her head still so he could slowly, firmly, fully stroke her tongue. The way he wanted to stroke the rest of her.

After nearly five minutes of just deep, hot kissing, she pulled back. Her breaths came fast, and she was looking at him as if her mind was spinning with ideas.

“Where is your favorite place in Sapphire Falls?” she asked.

It took him a second to process that she wasn’t saying “take your pants off.”

“Uh…”

“I told you this was my favorite place,” she said. “Where’s yours?”

“Probably—”

“And do not say ‘wherever you are’ or something,” she said.

He laughed. “Okay. Probably the square.” He lifted a shoulder. “I know a lot of people would say that and maybe it seems cliché, but the square is at the heart of it all.”

She nodded. “I love the square too.” They sat for a second. Then she added, “Now you kiss me again.”

He lifted a brow. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t know the rules here.”

“I do or say something sweet—like asking you about good memories here in Sapphire Falls—and then you do something that makes me want to take my clothes off.”

“Got it.” He brought her in for a kiss, but just before their lips met, he said, “I know just the thing.”

She blinked, clearly surprised to have not gotten her kiss. But Scott reached for the two bottles of liquor he’d brought along.

“What’s this?” she asked, as he unscrewed the lid on the schnapps.

“Derek and I invented a shot.”

“Really?”

“The Sapphire Shooter. It’s got more than this in it, but blue curacao and peach schnapps are the main things.” He tipped the schnapps back, taking a mouthful. Then he did the same with the curacao, mixing the two in his mouth. Then he brought Peyton forward, putting his lips to hers. He kissed her and then opened his mouth and gave her the shot of liquor.

She was clearly surprised, but she swallowed, then pulled back. “That’s how you do a Sapphire Shooter, huh?”

“It’s one way,” he said. “You can be boring and use a glass, I guess.”

She laughed. “It’s good.”

“I know.”

“But you shouldn’t have any. You’re taking pain pills.”

He shook his head. “Last ones were last night. Haven’t even had ibruprofen today.”

She tipped her head. “Honest?”

“Promise.”

Finally, she nodded. “Okay.”

“Want another?” He lifted the bottle.

“Yeah. But first you have to tell me something else.”

“Like what?”

She thought about it for a second. “If you weren’t a cop, what would you want to be?”

“Easy. Teacher and coach,” he said.

“Really?”

He nodded. “Definitely. Perfect way to interact with everyone, be a positive influence on the kids, be a part of the community.”

“That’s a really big deal to you, isn’t it? Positively influencing the town.”

“Of course.” All towns. The whole fucking world, if he could. But Sapphire Falls for sure.

“You didn’t come right back to Sapphire Falls though,” she said. “You were in Omaha for a while, right?”

He lifted the bottles. He could use a shot or two if they were going to talk about Omaha. “Come on now, that’s more than one question.”

“We’re doing a shot per question?” she asked. “We’re going to be wasted.”

“You really feeling talkative tonight?”

That made her pause. Her eyes got a little wide and then she nodded. “Guess so. I want to talk to you, Hansen. What’s that about?”

He pinched her butt and handed her the schnapps. “I’m more than a pretty face and a rock-hard body.”

She tipped both bottles back, then leaned in and kissed him. The sweet liquor from her mouth warmed more than the path down his throat. Especially when she stroked her tongue along his, giving him a good, deep taste.

She sat back. “Yeah, you are,” she said belatedly.

He palmed her butt cheek. “But I’m a rock-hard body too.”

She wiggled on his lap. “Yeah, you are.”

Scott ran a hand up and down her back, then slipped under the hem of her shirt and repeated the motion with his hand on her bare skin. She shivered at his touch.

“You gotta talk if you’re going to touch,” she told him.

“What do you want to know? Because I’m definitely touching.”

“How long were you in Omaha?”

“Four years.” He ran his fingers under the back strap of her bra, then back and forth along the elastic band. “After the academy.” He flicked the tiny hooks open and her bra loosened.

“Wow, that was smooth.”

He grinned. “Stick around.”

She wiggled again. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He ran his hand around to the front, cupping her breast and rubbing his thumb over the nipple.

She pulled in a quick breath and arched slightly, but said, “I would think Omaha was pretty different from Sapphire Falls.”

He plucked at the hardened tip, watching her eyes flutter shut. “Very different.”

“Why’d you come home?” Her voice was breathless now.

“I always intended to come home.”

“Why didn’t you come home right away then?”

“I was recruited to a task force that I really believed in.”

Her head tipped back and she pressed closer to his hand as he tugged on her nipple. “Why…” She cleared her throat. “Um…what task force?”

Scott wondered if she was having a hard time concentrating on the conversation. “Sex trafficking.”

There was a beat, and then her head snapped up and her gaze pinned his. “What?”

Well, that had been fun. Scott pulled his hand from under her shirt. “Sex trafficking,” he repeated. “I worked with a task force along I-80, through Illinois, Iowa, Nebraska and Colorado.”

“But…” She frowned. “Sex trafficking? Really?”

He nodded. “There’s a lot of it. All along that corridor.”

“And you worked on stopping it?”

“Yep.”

“And…did you?”

He sighed. “Some of it. But it’s not something we ever felt like we really got in front of.”

“But…” She put her hands on his shoulders and looked into his eyes. “This is happening here?”

“It happens everywhere. But not Sapphire Falls,” he said firmly. “Never here. I’ll make sure.”

“But nearby.”

“Too nearby.”

“And why did you leave it?”

“Burnout,” he said with a deep breath in and out. “The cruelty, the devastation, the trauma…it was a lot to deal with. I still jump in on special ops.” His chest tightened thinking about the invitation from Lance. He wasn’t sure he could say no. But he wasn’t sure he could say yes either. “But I’m not doing it full time,” he went on. “And I haven’t done any undercover work in a long time.”

She looked at him for several beats. Then she leaned in and wrapped her arms around his neck and put her face against his shoulder. And she just hugged him.

Scott slowly felt the tension ebbing out of his neck and shoulders. He moved his hands to her back again, pressing her closer. He took a big breath in, the scent of cinnamon lifting from her hair and enveloping him. And he closed his eyes and just held her.

Peyton ran her hands up into his hair, then back down, stroking his neck. Her breath warmed his skin through his shirt, and he slowly became aware of everywhere they were touching, from her butt on his lap, to her breasts against his chest, to her hair against his cheek.

She fit against him perfectly.

“Most of the time, I love the things about Sapphire Falls that you were talking about before,” he said, almost before he realized he was going to speak. He sounded like he was pushing his voice past sandpaper. “I love the festival and the holidays and the celebrations. I came back here because of things like that—the happiness and joy.”

“But?” she asked softly.

“Sometimes it doesn’t feel right,” he admitted. “There’s so much darkness. So many horrible things going on. It feels like partying, when there are people…kids…being kept as slaves. I mean, bound to these people emotionally and financially in a way that takes away any hope for anything else.” He pulled in a breath. “And people hurting each other and killing each other. Sometimes it just feels like the parties are sacrilegious or something. Or we’re naïve here, thinking that this is real life. Like we’re not taking things seriously enough. Like we should be putting that time and money and effort toward something else. Something more important.”

Peyton didn’t say anything at first, and Scott just worked on moving air in and out of his lungs. That was enough for right now. He couldn’t charge out there and save the entire world tonight. Or any night. He could only do his part in his corner of the world. And pray that others were doing their parts in the other corners. He knew that. The therapist he’d seen just before moving back to Sapphire Falls had talked to him about that at length.

Was North Dakota in his corner? And even if it wasn’t, was there someone in that corner to do it? And if not, then he should do it. Right?

He couldn’t stop the thought swirling in his head and cursed Lance for calling and stirring up his conscience.

Finally, Peyton lifted her head and looked at him. “I don’t think it’s sacrilegious,” she said. “And I don’t think we’re naïve. We’re not having celebrations and having fun and making the holidays a huge deal because we think the whole world is this bright, wonderful place with unicorns running around pooping rainbows.”

Scott gave her a half smile.

“We do it because we know the world is not that. We do it because the world can be a horrible, hard, hurtful place,” she said. “We do it because if there are no parties, no balloons, no peppermint hot chocolate, no zombie paintball wars, then what the hell is the point?”

He felt her fingers digging into his shoulders and realized she was feeling the wave of emotions he was. God…if he hadn’t loved her before, he did now. She made him believe all of that. Hell, she almost made him believe in rainbow-pooping unicorns.

“We’re fighting the hate and the cruelty and the pain by proving that people can still care about each other, people can still put aside their differences and their worries to have a Leprechaun Launch on St. Patrick’s Day or drink a love potion on Valentine’s Day or get together to stitch an American flag big enough to cover the gazebo like a tent on Memorial Day, just because it feels good. We watch old movies on the side of city hall every Saturday in the summer, and we bring in a Ferris wheel once a year, and we have hayrack rides in the fall because that’s how it should be, and by God, we’re not going to let the bad guys take that away or make us forget.”

Scott stared at her, a million thoughts going through his mind. But first and foremost was the realization that she was absolutely right, and he loved that she knew all of that even better than he did. And that he needed to go to North Dakota.

“And that’s why I stayed here,” she said, her voice quieter. “Because yes, this is my place. This is the place that is good, and happy, and right, in spite of it all. This is the place that was outside my front door every time I left the house. Walking out my front door wasn’t just an escape. Here, it made me a part of something bigger and better.”

Scott swallowed hard. Then he wrapped his arms around her, brought her in, and kissed her.

But this time there was no liquor, no tongues, and he slipped his hands under her shirt and re-hooked her bra.

Then Peyton drove them home. And for the first time, Scott was fully conscious when she slipped into bed next to him, and he pulled her up against his side.

“I want inside this house to be as good as outside,” he said, gruffly against her hair.

And he felt her kiss his shoulder in response and he knew in his soul that it would be. As long as they were in it together.