Fucking Ivy Stone.
Everywhere I looked, everywhere I went, it felt like she was there. And now, she’d somehow managed to convince Dane to tote her Hollywood ass around Cold today.
The impulse to drag her out of his cruiser and toss her into mine that fucking instant was damn near overpowering, but I fought the urge and focused on the task at hand: a possible burglary call at Poppy Munn’s house. I could drag Ivy’s entitled ass all the way home when I was done.
Knowing Poppy’s history of making frequent 9-1-1 calls over anything and everything, I wasn’t on high alert. But a good police officer never assumed anything.
I walked toward the front porch where Dane stood talking to the eighty-five-year-old owner of the house.
“What’s going on, Ms. Munn?” I asked as I closed the distance between us.
“It’s okay, Levi,” she called back, her arms gesturing wildly beneath her pink housecoat. Strands of her gray hair fell out of the messy knot on top of her head and into her eyes. She blew them away with an exaggerated breath.
I stepped onto the worn, wooden steps of the front porch, and Dane grinned at me over his shoulder.
“She heard some rustling outside and got scared.” He nodded toward the two garbage cans sitting on the blacktop of her driveway. Both had been flipped to their sides, and trash remnants scattered the ground around them. “But it appears it was just a few coons digging through her trash.”
Considering I’d yet to see an actual emergency occur at sweet old Poppy’s house in the approximately one hundred trips I’d made out there, I wasn’t surprised.
“I’m so sorry, boys,” she apologized, and the crow’s feet around her eyes crinkled. “I just got spooked again from those damn raccoons wanderin’ around my house. Those little bastards think they have free rein over my trash cans.” She twisted her mouth into a half frown, and immediately, Dane stepped in to reassure her.
“It’s okay, Ms. Munn,” he said, affection softening his voice.
She looked down at her feet and tapped her black velvet house shoes against the wooden porch stoop. “I guess I probably should’ve called animal control instead of 9-1-1, huh?”
Animal control in Cold, Montana consisted of a man named Butch with one lone pickup truck. His retirement from the job was ten years overdue, and he had about a fifteen percent follow-through rate on calls. The odds of his handling her raccoon situation were slim-to-none. She’d probably have a better shot at the coons finding another person’s garbage to fixate on.
I offered a soft smile. “We’d rather you call us and it not be an emergency, than you not call us and something bad happen.”
She nodded, but her gaze stayed fixated on her slippers.
“Our priority is to make sure you feel safe, Ms. Munn.” I reached out my hand and gently patted her small shoulder. “Never forget that, okay?”
“Okay,” she answered quietly. “Can I get you boys anything to eat or drink for your trouble?” she asked, and her hopeful gaze lifted from the ground and back to us. “I just put a pot of vegetable soup on the stove. Should be ready in about thirty minutes or so.”
“You’re a sweetheart, Ms. Munn, but I’m going to have to pass,” I said, and she smiled, the remnants of her embarrassment still coloring her cheeks. “Now, go on inside and enjoy your lunch, but let Officer Marx take a quick look around just to be sure everything’s all right.”
Dane looked at me with confusion in his eyes, but he followed my order and walked inside Poppy’s house. The screen door shut behind him with a creak and a clank, and I didn’t think twice about my next destination.
Off the porch and down the driveway, I strode toward Dane’s cruiser where Ivy sat in the passenger seat. Just seeing her sitting there, looking back at me as I moved toward her, was enough to damn near put me over the edge.
This woman had some fucking nerve.
Even though she was involved in some big Hollywood film, she was not entitled to anything related to my police department, including a ride along with a rookie cop. One she certainly had zero permission for.
With my hands clenched around the handle, I pulled open the door and glared down at her. “Get out of the car, Ivy,” I spat.
“No,” she snapped back, her voice equal parts confused and irritated.
“You can’t just walk into a police department and think you can do whatever the fuck you want without getting permission,” I stated firmly. “We both know you’re not supposed to be with Marx. Not you or anyone on your fucking film production received any kind of approval for this. Get out of the car. Now.”
“And what exactly am I supposed to do, Officer Fox?” Her green eyes darkened three shades, and anger dripped from each word. “Walk home in ten-degree weather?”
God, this woman was a pain in my ass.
“Get out of the car, Ivy,” I said for the third fucking time. “You’re with me. I’m driving you home.”
“Oh, that’s real rich.” A sarcastic laugh left her full, pink lips, and I hated myself for how much I enjoyed watching them move. “The only reason I’m with Officer Marx is because you won’t let me do my job. Which, we both know, me and my fucking film production did receive approval for.”
“What’s going on?” Dane asked, taking both Ivy and me by surprise.
I had been so damn focused on her that I hadn’t even noticed his arrival.
“Everything okay?” he reworded his question when silence consumed the space between the three of us.
“I don’t know what she’s told you, but she isn’t supposed to be riding along with anyone besides me,” I said. “And that’s a direct order from the chief.”
He looked between the two of us, misunderstanding furrowing the lines of his brow. “I thought—” He started to respond, but Ivy’s voice stopped him before he could get started.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” she muttered and stood to her feet. “I’m sorry, Dane. You’re a good guy, and this is my fault. I shouldn’t have pulled you into the middle of this.” She patted him on the shoulder. “Thank you for today. I really enjoyed it.”
“It’s okay.” He smiled down at her. “And it was my pleasure, Ivy.”
I clenched my fists at the familiarity between them, but before I could say or do anything else, she stalked away from us and toward my cruiser. The passenger door slammed shut behind her a moment later.
Dane’s now concerned eyes met mine. “You all right?”
“Fine.” Even though this woman might be the death of me.
“You sure?”
“Before I got here, Glen got a call over at the high school,” I said by way of changing the subject. The last thing I needed was the rookie’s scrutiny. “Apparently, a fistfight broke out between a few of the boys. Head over there and make sure he doesn’t need any help.”
“Roger that,” he responded, and since I was technically his superior, he didn’t question me further.
By the time I reached my driver’s-side door, the rookie’s wheels were already rolling toward Cold High.
Without even glancing in Ivy’s direction, I got into my cruiser and started the engine. We were back on the road a moment later, and my ears started to buzz from the deafening, tension-filled silence that stretched between us.
It only took five minutes of driving for her to be the first one to break the ice.
“What is your fucking problem?” Her fiery words cut into my skin like a blade.
“You,” I spat back. “You are my problem.” I gripped the leather of the steering wheel tightly, flexing my fingers around it a few times before taking a right back onto the main road.
“That’s hilarious and ironic,” she said sarcastically, and I bristled.
“And why is that?”
“Because you are my fucking problem too.”
“Wow. You’ve got a dirty fucking mouth, Ivy Stone. I would’ve thought a woman of Hollywood had more class than that.”
She laughed. It wasn’t the least bit amused, though. “That’s rich coming from the man who just made a scene back there in an elderly woman’s driveway.”
“I didn’t make a scene. I fixed a problem.”
“The only problem is that you won’t follow orders and refuse to give me any information about Grace Murphy.”
“Because Grace Murphy isn’t any of your business!”
“Yes, she is!” she exclaimed. “I’m well aware you don’t like that this movie is being made. I understand that. But it is out of your control. All you can do now is help make sure we do Grace justice.”
Do Grace justice. Fucking hell, this woman. She didn’t know jack shit about the justice that Grace Murphy deserved. It didn’t involve a Hollywood film, but it appeared I was the only one in this whole damn town who understood that.
I pulled my cruiser into the driveway of Grace’s house, and the brakes squealed to a stop. I didn’t say another word, just sat in silence, staring out toward the house and waiting for her to get out of my cruiser.
The less I said, the better.
But Ivy had other plans.
She slammed her fists down onto the dashboard. “Can’t you realize you are making this more difficult than it needs to be?”
I glared at her, but she didn’t stop.
“Avoiding me isn’t solving anything!” she shouted. Her voice jumped around the inside of the car like a bouncy ball. “The film will still happen. This town is behind it. The chief is behind it. Even Grace’s family is behind it.”
God, I wanted her to shut up.
But she just kept going.
“You are making this impossible, Levi!”
One moment, her shouts had my eardrums ringing like a bell, and the next, I was reaching across the center console of my cruiser and pulling her toward me. Our mouths crashed together, and I fucking kissed her. Hard.
It wasn’t premeditated. The kiss, the urge, the uncontrollable desire, it had come out of nowhere. One minute Ivy was on the other side of the cruiser, screaming at me with fury etching the normally soft lines of her lips, and the next, I was kissing her like a man starved for her perfect mouth with my hands clasped into the back of her silky red hair.
She didn’t hesitate. No. She kissed me right back.
I was completely unprepared. You would think after the first time she’d kissed me and all of the hours I’d spent with her—watching her talk, laugh, smile, scowl—that I would’ve known all there was to know about her lips. But God, they were warm and soft, and for a brief moment in time, they obliterated every thought inside my head.
Her small hands found my shoulders, gripping so hard they pinched the skin through the fabric of my uniform, but I barely noticed. In the end, it meant she was pulling me closer—that was what mattered.
God, she tastes so good.
Hard and rough at first, but eventually, deep and slow, our tempo changed, but our rhythm was always in sync. Our tongues danced, lips moved, and her soft moans echoed inside the tight confines of the cruiser.
Desire and hunger roared inside my veins. I drew my tongue over her teeth and swallowed her groan of pleasure as we slid even closer to each other, no visible gap between us now.
I was on overdrive. Fully committed, totally invested, and a whole litany of things other than numb.
I didn’t know how long we kissed.
All I knew was one moment, I’d felt like I was flying, my brain running wild with imagining what Ivy felt like beneath her clothes, and the next, I’d felt like I’d been doused with a bucket of ice water as she abruptly pulled away.
My heart pounded riotously inside of my chest as erratic breaths escaped my lungs in short pants.
“W-what was that for?” she asked on a breathless whisper, her eyes locked with mine.
I had no fucking idea. I could’ve made more sense out of an advanced calculus test than the reason for that kiss. I’d felt primal. Raw. Like I couldn’t have stopped myself if I’d tried.
Her big, mesmerizing green eyes stared deep into mine, and the instant her front teeth nervously bit into the soft flesh of her bottom lip, I had to look away.
She was too much. This, whatever the fuck it was, was too much.
Out the driver’s-side window I stared, swallowing hard against the sudden dryness in my throat.
“Levi?” Her voice was still a whisper. “What was that for?” she asked again.
Good and bad warred within me, but eventually, the bad won out and twisted and tainted my response. “To shut you up,” I said, and even though the words didn’t feel right leaving my mouth, I added, “Tit for tat, I guess.”
I didn’t even have to look at her, I felt her body stiffen up beside mine.
Seconds later and without any sort of response, Ivy was out of my cruiser and slamming the passenger door behind her. She stalked toward Grace’s house, the heels of her shoes swift and slightly unsteady as she moved up the front porch.
When the front door fell closed, I hated that I felt the insane urge to follow her inside.
But I didn’t.