The next few days Dad and Hale used every opportunity to let her know just how unreasonable she was being. Even Tucker FaceTimed her from some undisclosed location halfway around the world. Haggard and bearded, his gray eyes had stared accusingly at her through her computer screen and wanted to know if she had lost her mind. Hale had apprised him of the situation and, of course, he had to weigh in on Faith’s poor judgment.

Throughout it all, she couldn’t help marveling at what any of them would think if they knew the extent of her involvement with North Callaghan. She shuddered to think of their reaction if they were privy to their text messages . . . if they had witnessed her the other day propped on the hood of her car with North between her thighs. The memory sent her face flaming . . . along with other parts of her body.

Dad stopped by the day after Hale’s visit, stone-faced as he explained that he wanted her to move back home with him. She’d been firm but kind with him as she explained that that was not an option.

Thankfully, North Callaghan wasn’t home during that visit. She hadn’t missed her father’s razor-sharp gaze eyeing North’s house. Had he been home, she knew Dad would have marched over there to throw his weight around. He would have grilled North and then probably ended the conversation by warning him off from even looking cross-eyed at her.

So North not home then had been a blessing.

In fact, North hadn’t been home a lot. At least not when she might have bumped into him. His bike or truck was gone when she woke up every morning, and he was never around when she got home in the evenings. He never did reply to her apology text. It seemed like he had stopped caring about her. He certainly didn’t miss her anymore. Or if he did he had a funny way of showing it.

She was brushing her teeth and getting ready for bed when her phone rang from where it was charging on her nightstand. A quick glance revealed that it was Hale again. She sighed through the bubbly froth of her toothpaste.

Turning away, she let it go to voicemail. It was late. He’d just think she was already asleep. Or that she was ignoring him. Either way was fine.

She finished brushing her teeth, rinsed her mouth and headed downstairs to shut off all the lights. It was Friday night. She was going to bed by 10 p.m. This was her life. Brendan had texted her sporadically throughout the week. Nice texts telling her he was looking forward to their date next week. Nice. There was that word again.

North Callaghan was probably just getting started on his night. She imagined him with Serena or someone else and an uncomfortable knot formed in her throat.

She poured herself a glass of water. Standing in her darkened kitchen, she couldn’t help drifting over to the large window that faced the driveway.

So much for waiting for her to step across that proverbial line in the sand.

She guessed he was finished with her. Understandable, she supposed.

She knew all the dirt on him and he probably felt weird about it now. Through all their interactions, she had known he was a convicted murderer.

And she was the sheriff’s sister.

As an ex-con, he’d probably decided he didn’t need that aggravation. That certainly made sense. She should forget about him. She should. But she wanted to talk to him. Although when she imagined what she would say nothing came to her mind. She couldn’t tell him his past didn’t matter. That would be a lie. It would always matter. It mattered to him, clearly, but it was as he said. He didn’t owe her any explanation or defense. If he wanted an explanation as to why she had investigated his background, then she could offer none other than that she was nosy. A busybody just like her brother described half of the women of Sweet Hill.

She peered out between her blinds.

It shouldn’t bother her so much that he was not at home. She shouldn’t be peeking out the window like a stalker. She winced. That ship had already sailed. By definition, that’s what she was. Ugh. This was what she had become, how far she had descended.

She should not be wondering so much about where he was . . . what he was doing. Who he was doing.

Grimacing, she let the blinds snap back into place and forced herself away from the window and the hope of seeing him.

It was for the best.

She was the sheriff’s sister. For days this reeled through his mind. She was also the daughter of the man who’d come out to the farmhouse and cuffed him and Knox in front of their aunt and uncle. In front of Katie. Already traumatized Katie. Already broken. Sure, he was just doing his job, but Faith’s father was a part of that past North worked so hard to forget.

Now Faith was a part of it, too.

The past was like that. Never really gone. Always there to sneak up on you and tap you on the shoulder just when you thought you were getting over it.

North put in a lot of overtime at the shop for the rest of the week. His boss was only too happy to pay him. They had more work than they could handle as it was these days. He might have gotten some funny looks showing up Saturday, but the few guys working didn’t say anything.

Home was the last place he wanted to be, which actually infuriated him. Getting his own place had been a huge thing for him upon getting paroled. It had been his number one goal. A place where he could be by himself and have the privacy he never had at the Rock. Something that belonged to him. A refuge for him alone. Now that was wrecked because he was avoiding the woman living next door to him.

North usually protected his weekends. It was his time. He worked in his shop, fished, took runs out along forgotten paths where birds sang in the trees, indifferent to his intrusion. Sometimes he just drove out to the desert mountains to stare at the expanse of wilderness. Because he could. Because he wasn’t locked up in a cage anymore.

The nights were his, too. Those he spent in typical fashion. Exorcising his ghosts by pumping into some willing female body. Only lately, getting laid did not seem nearly so important. At least random hookups weren’t. His sex drive hadn’t diminished. No, he hadn’t lost interest in sex. He’d lost interest in indiscriminate sex.

Now, however, he had to ignore her. She was an itch he would have to leave unscratched. Knowing who she was had changed everything. Fucking her was out of the question. She was trouble. For two years he had managed to avoid trouble. He wouldn’t start looking for it now.

Hale Walters’s hard-eyed face flashed across his mind. This guy went to prison for murder, Faith.

The words were true—and accompanied with such a contemptuous look. It still stung . . . the way her brother had looked at him. The look, however, said it all. He thought North was a worthless piece of shit and he didn’t want such shit anywhere near his sister.

Her father had actually arrested him. He didn’t have a hell of a lot of scruples left, but he figured that made Faith Walters a bad choice as a potential fuck buddy.

North pulled over at the grocery store. With all the overtime this week, he didn’t have anything in his refrigerator to eat and he was sick of takeout.

He grabbed a cart at the front of the store and headed for the produce section, which took him through the deli and bakery. They already had some deli meat sliced in a cooler. He snagged a couple packages of ham and turkey, nodding politely to the girl staring at him from behind the counter. He’d noticed her before. They’d chatted once or twice. Open interest gleamed in her eyes. Clearly she was willing to strike up a conversation with him again. Too bad he wasn’t in the mood.

Scowling, he wondered when he would be in the mood again. He should go over there and flirt with her, find out when she got off work and invite her back to his place. He should do that. It had been a while for him. Too long.

He pushed his cart through the bakery section and tossed some bread into his basket.

By the time he got to the produce, he was almost done. Lettuce and tomatoes went in the cart. It wasn’t fancy, but he could make a decent sandwich. He picked out a watermelon and threw some oranges in the cart. He’d missed fresh fruit in prison. All the fruit they had was usually canned. He hadn’t had fresh watermelon while he was at the Rock. Twelve years without fresh watermelon. Kind of like sex. When he’d gotten out he’d been starving. Fresh fruit and pussy.

Except the desperate hunger he had felt when he was first paroled was worse now. Because he felt it for one woman. A woman he couldn’t have.

Deciding to grab a gallon of milk, he headed for the dairy department.

That’s where he saw her.

Looking very un-Faith-like in a pair of black yoga pants and T-shirt, she was standing in front of the milk section, the door to the refrigeration unit open as she studied the selection. His eyes dropped to her flip-flops. Pink toenails.

With the exception of when he saw her in her robe, she was always polished and put together in her work attire.

Un-Faith-like or not, he was still hit hard with a wave of lust.

Hell, he had already accepted how much he liked the look of her, but this Faith looked young and fresh and far too clean for the likes of him. He wanted this. He wanted to dive into her. He wanted to take her and claim her and mark her as his.

His flight instinct kicked in and he whirled his cart around.

She must have caught the movement. He heard her voice behind him. “North! North, wait up.”

Her cart rolled behind him, wheels whirring over the linoleum. Christ. She was chasing him.

He kept going, fighting the totally irrational urge to run. He turned down the toilet-paper-and-tissue aisle.

“North!” Her hand grabbed his arm, fingers pressing into his skin, and that was a mistake. Touching him was a mistake. It was hard enough forgetting her taste or the sensation of her soft skin, too soft for the rough scrape of his palms. Hard enough not to remember the wet silk of her sex against his fingers.

He didn’t need her touching him.

“What?” he growled.

“I texted you.”

“Yeah.” He’d seen it. He hadn’t replied to the apology. What should he have said? “I know.”

She pulled back, dropping her hand, looking hurt and so young right then. She blinked rapidly and looked down, as though fighting tears. Finding her composure, she looked back up at him.

He sighed and glanced left and right, dragging a hand through his hair. He swallowed back an expletive. The store wasn’t crowded. No one seemed to notice or care about them standing in the aisle. Christ. He couldn’t do this. Not here.

Even in public, it was a battle not to touch her, not to pick right up where they left off the other night . . . even knowing who she was now made no difference to his dick.

“What do you want from me?” He tossed a hand up in the air.

She blinked as though the question caught her off guard. “We’re neighbors. I want everything to be all right between us. I want us to be—”

“Don’t say friends,” he snarled, everything in him seizing tight, wanting to lash out at her—pull her to him so he could let her know just what he thought of that idea . . . and what it was he really wanted to be to her. “That’s not happening. You and I were never going to be friends.”

She stared at him, looking hurt all over again. He took a step toward her. She backed up, stopping when she bumped into a wall of paper towels. “The only thing that was ever going to happen between us was sex.” He propped one hand against a shelf right over her shoulder.

Fire lit her eyes. “Oh, really?”

“Yeah. And that’s not happening now.”

“Oh? Because you decided?” Her face screwed tight with irritation. “Hate to tell you, but that wasn’t ever going to happen because I wasn’t going to let—”

He shut her up by kissing her. Hard. Her mouth parted on a cry and he slid his tongue inside, tasting her, groaning when her tongue thrust out to meet his. He pressed his body into hers, sinking into her shape. He grabbed her hip, pulling her to him, angling her so that he could settle his cock against the soft juncture between her thighs. Her hands went for his shoulders, her fingers curling into him.

He angled his head, deepening the kiss, drinking long and hard from her like a starving man. They pushed against one another, desperate, yearning. He gripped the shelf as though he could use it to leverage them closer.

It wasn’t enough. It wouldn’t be enough until they were melding into one. Until he was in her so deep—

Paper towels started to fall around them. He broke away, coming up for air.

She stared at him with wide, glazed eyes, her mouth inching back toward him, after more.

He reached out to stroke her pretty bottom lip, swollen and damp. “You still lying to yourself now?”

She blinked, the glazed look leaving her eyes like clearing smoke. Her hands worked, shoving between them, red splotches breaking out all over her face as she launched him away from her like he was some kind of poison and not the man she had been kissing for all she was worth moments ago.

Her eyes shone wetly, brimming with angry emotion as she sputtered, “Don’t touch—”

“I won’t. Never again.” His voice was hard with finality as he looked at her, standing before him, her face flushed, her lips still mocking him, begging for him to pick right back up where they’d just ended. “Forget I live next door. Forget you even have a neighbor.”

He stood back and looked at her solemnly, letting his words sink in. For her. For him. She appeared a little shell-shocked as she held his gaze. But still mad. Still furious. Angry fire shot from her eyes. Good. Better this than her looking at him like he was something worthwhile. In the back of his mind, he had started to feel almost normal; he’d started to think he could have a normal life. It was a necessary wake-up call. There was no normal for him.

Turning away, he grasped the bar of his cart in a white-knuckled grip and left her standing in the aisle.

Home was still the last place he wanted to be. Bumping into Faith at the store only reaffirmed that.

He stayed only long enough to drop off his groceries. Sticking the cold stuff in the fridge, he exchanged glares with his empty walls before pushing off the counter. “Forget this,” he muttered to himself.

Grabbing his keys, he hopped back in his truck. Without thinking about it, he found himself pulling into the gravel parking lot surrounding Joe’s Cabaret.

For midweek the place was hopping. He stepped inside the smoke-laden space to the raucous cheers of patrons waving money for a pair of dancers dressed like pink bunnies.

He assessed the crowd in one sweep. He spotted Piper weaving through tables. She looked harried even with a smile etched onto her face. Her big doe eyes looked tired with shadows underneath them. He knew Cruz hated that she had to work so hard, but there was little else she could do with no parents around, a brother in prison and a fourteen-year-old sister to raise. With her day job and picking up shifts here at night, she was burning the candle at both ends.

Her face lit up when she spotted him. She waved him toward a vacant table near the back. Naturally, all the tables near the stage were occupied. Fine by him. He wasn’t here to stuff money in G-strings.

He seated himself with his back to the wall, settling in until Piper could get to him.

He was still waiting when the main door opened again and an officer stepped inside, the dark blue of his uniform with its glinting brass bits unmistakable. There was a noticeable shift in the air as everyone became aware of the new arrival. He stepped deeper into the room. The red stage lights cast him in a glow and revealed his face. North released a low, mirthless chuckle.

Why the hell not? He’d already run into one Walters sibling tonight. Why not toss in another one? Maybe Tucker Walters would show up, too.

Sheriff Hale Walters slowly navigated the room. Several of the waitresses and dancers eyed him and it wasn’t out of trepidation. North guessed it didn’t hurt that the guy had the kind of face women liked. Not that he was any judge, but if the girls who worked at Joe’s—the girls who saw men all day long in every shape, size and flavor—were eyeing him, then he was better than average. He was impressive. Taller than North at several inches over six feet and built like a tank. North recalled that when he was in high school Hale Walters basically was the Sweet Hill football team’s defensive line.

As it became clear that he wasn’t there to break up the fun, the customers relaxed and resumed their catcalls. North kept his gaze fixed on Walters.

Eventually, the sheriff came to stand before him. “Callaghan,” he greeted.

He dropped his head back. Damn, Faith’s brother was a big bastard. “Looking for me?”

“How’d you guess?”

“Well, you found me.” He didn’t even want to consider how the guy tracked him down. He’d either followed him or had an APB out for him. He wouldn’t put such things past him. The man had power and influence. Enough to make North’s life very complicated. He wouldn’t forget that. “Surprised it took you this long. You could have just knocked on my door.”

“I thought it was a good idea for us to have a little talk someplace . . . neutral.” And by neutral he meant someplace where his sister wouldn’t see him hounding North. “I would have come sooner, but I was hoping to convince my sister that she needed to move.” He shrugged one shoulder. “Faith is headstrong. She believes in second chances.” He lowered himself into the chair across from North. “But you and I have been around. We’ve seen the worst that life has to offer. We aren’t so optimistic. Are we?”

North stared long and hard at the man across from him. “You and I have nothing in common. Sheriff.” This last he added with a touch of force, spitting the word off his tongue as though he didn’t like the taste of it. He’d had enough exposure to lawmen to last him the rest of his life. The fact that he now lived next door to the sheriff’s sister was a major point of discontent. He was leading a law-abiding life. He shouldn’t have to deal with the man.

Hale Walters glanced to the stage, where a patron was making an ass of himself attempting to climb the stage to reach one of the dancers. A bouncer emerged to grab him and cart him away.

“We both know men don’t change,” he murmured idly in a voice that belied the tension lining his shoulders. “Not really.” His steely gaze drifted back to North as though waiting for him to reply.

There was no point. For the most part, North didn’t disagree with him.

“Sorry for the wait,” Piper’s sweet feminine voice said breathlessly as she arrived at their table. “We’re slammed. What can I get you, North?” Her dark gaze slid to the sheriff. “And your friend here?” She uttered the word friend in a skeptical manner. She might walk the straight and narrow, but she was a Walsh. North doubted there was a family member of hers that had not seen the inside of a jail.

“Ice water is fine,” Walters said.

Her lips thinned and he could imagine she was calculating a zero tip from him on that order.

“I’ll take a beer. The usual,” North supplied.

Nodding, she gave his shoulder a friendly pat before moving on.

Walters’s gaze didn’t miss the touch. His eyes followed Piper as she moved away. “Cute girl,” he murmured.

North followed the direction of the sheriff’s stare, noticing it followed Piper’s ass until she disappeared behind the bar.

“She’s a good girl.”

“You know her well then.”

North heard the judgment in his voice. “Well enough.”

The sheriff grunted. “Right. Seems like if you have that tasty piece on the line, you can leave my sister alone.”

He smiled without bothering to correct Walters’s assumption that he was banging Piper. This man was determined to think the worst of him and nothing he said would convince him otherwise.

“So we’ve reached the part when you warn me off your sister?” He crossed his arms across his chest. “Does it even matter if I tell you that your concerns are misplaced?”

“No. It wouldn’t matter. I saw the way you looked at her.”

“And how’s that?”

“Like a wolf ready to eat its next meal.” He leaned back in his chair, the wood creaking under his weight. “Only you can forget about that. There are hundreds of girls for you to fuck with.” He stabbed a finger in North’s direction. “So hands off her.”

North shook his head and laughed. The sad thing was . . . he couldn’t even deny wanting her. He did. He had.

“Yeah,” Walters said smugly. “Thought so.”

“We’re just neighbors. That’s all we’ll ever be.” That much was true.

“She’s too good for you.” He gestured around the room. “Why don’t you stick with your strippers and bimbo waitresses and steer clear of her.”

A bottle of beer clunked down in front of North. He looked up, startled. He hadn’t even noticed Piper’s return. “Oh, and here’s your ice water.” She plopped the glass down clumsily in front of the sheriff, close to the edge. Too close apparently. The glass toppled over and spilled all over Walters.

“Shit!” He erupted from his chair, wincing at the icy deluge soaking the front of his pants.

“Oh, my goodness!” Piper grabbed a napkin and patted savagely at his crotch, making him yelp. North covered up his smile with his hand.

“Stop! I’m okay! Really.” Walters dodged her hand, backing away.

“I’m so sorry, Deputy. I didn’t—”

“Sheriff,” he ground out, snatching the napkin from her hand when she came at him again. “Sheriff Walters.”

“Oh!” Piper’s enormous, Disney-princess eyes rounded in her face with exaggerated zeal. “Sheriff Walters. I’m so, so sorry!”

“It’s quite all right—”

“I’m so glad you can forgive me.” She hopped a little in place, sending her rack bouncing as she grabbed a lock of her dark hair, curling it around her finger. Her bottom lip stuck out in a pout. “But gosh . . . what can you expect from a bimbo waitress?”

Hale’s eyes narrowed. He flung the napkin down on the table. He clearly understood then that the drink in his lap had been deliberate. She had overheard his remark and was having a little fun at his expense.

“Exactly,” he retorted.

Piper squared her shoulders and stared him head-on, not the least bit intimidated. In that moment she reminded North of her brother. That mean bastard fought like a rattlesnake. Multiple men. Bigger men. Cruz would take on anyone. Reid always said it would be a miracle if the guy ever made it to thirty.

Walters wrenched his gaze back to North. “Remember what I said.” His gaze returned then, lingering for a long heated moment on Piper. Then he was gone, stalking from the table.

“Piper,” North said warningly. “You don’t need to go making enemies with men like that.”

She snorted in disgust. “I’m not afraid of him.”

“Maybe you should be. Your family doesn’t exactly have a good track record when it comes to the law.”

Piper sobered and looked at him somberly. “I’m nothing like my family. Me and my sister . . . we’re different.”

“I know that.” And she was. She might work at this unsavory establishment, but she wasn’t like the rest of her clan. She worked two jobs and took night courses and raised her little sister. “But Sheriff Walters is a powerful man—”

“Him? He looks like he has a stick up his ass.”

North released a hard laugh. Hadn’t he had a similar thought about the man’s sister?

“I appreciate you looking out for me—”

“It wasn’t just you, my friend. He insulted me. I heard that man call me a bimbo.”

“He said bimbo waitresses. That doesn’t necessarily mean you specifically—”

“Oh, he meant me.” She rolled her eyes.

North shrugged, watching the fiery bloom of color in her cheeks and knew there was no talking her down.

“Men like him are used to getting whatever they want and saying whatever they want because they think they’re superior.” She sniffed and picked up his empty water glass. Frowning down at the table, she said, “And he didn’t leave a tip.”

North chuckled. “Big shock.”

Shrugging, she strolled away.

North’s laughter faded. He picked up his beer and took a long pull. Now that Piper had left, he was alone with the echo of the sheriff’s words. I saw the way you looked at her. Like a wolf ready to eat its next meal.

If that was true, then he needed to stop looking at Faith Walters, because there would be no feasting on her. He finished his beer and lifted his gaze. Spying Piper, he signaled for another one.