Raylene thought she heard a car door slam. Deciding it was a dream, she rolled over and went back to sleep. A few minutes later, she heard it again. This time it sounded like the squeak of a tailgate.
She quickly sat up and lifted the lace curtain next to her bed. It was too dark to see the driveway below her bedroom, so she pressed her ear to the glass and listened. Maybe it was the sound of snow hitting the tin roof of the shed, or a raccoon rummaging through the trash. She started to lie back down when she heard it again.
A rustle and a thump and something that sounded like whispering. But maybe that was just the wind wafting through the pines.
She tried to convince herself that it was merely being in a big house alone. There was an alarm—Logan was over the top when it came to security—but she hadn’t thought to set it after Gabe had dropped her off. It was Nugget, after all. The only person she’d ever been afraid of here was her father, and he was dead.
She got out of bed and padded to another window, hoping there’d be more moonlight at that end of the room. The view proved to be just as dark, and she wished she would’ve thought to turn on one of the outside lights before she’d gone to bed.
Too spooked to go downstairs, she went into Logan and Annie’s room at the end of the hall and peered out their windows. She still didn’t see anything, but she could’ve sworn she heard a creaking sound coming from her truck.
She thought about calling 9-1-1, but by the time anyone got there she’d be lying in a pool of blood. Plus, she didn’t want to have to face Jake Stryker again. Rhys Shepard lived down the road, but he was no fan of hers either.
She’d rather take her chances on her own.
She crept down the stairs. First thing she’d do was activate the alarm, then shine a light on the driveway. It seemed like a sound plan until she heard what was for sure the slamming of a door.
Shit!
She ran back up the stairs, dove into her bed, grabbed her cell phone off the nightstand, and hit automatic dial.
Wake up, wake up.
“Hello.”
“Someone’s in the driveway. I think they’re stealing my truck.”
“Where are you?”
“In my room. I started to go down there but got scared.”
“Stay where you are. Better yet, go into Logan’s room. He keeps a Sig P226 in the closet. You know how to use a handgun?”
“It’s been a while, but Daddy taught me.”
“Go!” he said, and she could hear him moving. “As soon as you get it, call 9-1-1 and stay in your room. I’ll be there fast as I can.”
“Hurry.”
“Call 9-1-1, you hear me? And Raylene, don’t shoot us when we get there.”
She found the gun in Logan’s closet and sat in there, wondering if she was a complete paranoid wackadoodle. What if no one was down there and all she’d heard was the wind and snow, playing tricks? But she’d heard what she heard. And it wasn’t the weather. She’d slept through Sierra blizzards; she knew the difference.
She gritted her teeth and called the police. An operator told her someone was on their way, and she prayed it would be Wyatt or that new woman in the department. Anyone but Jake.
Then she waited.
It seemed like forever until she heard a siren, and then a car. She left the gun where she found it and went downstairs when someone rang the bell.
“It’s Chief Shepard.”
She answered the door and let Rhys in.
“Gabe’s on his way.” She didn’t know why she’d offered that information and felt the need to add, “I called him first.”
He merely nodded. “Did you see anyone?”
“No, but I heard someone in the driveway. You didn’t see anyone when you drove up?”
“Nope.” Great, he didn’t believe her. “Let me have a look. Wait here.”
He went outside and she shut the door to keep the cold out. A few minutes later, she heard Gabe’s SUV pull up and felt instantly better. Safer. She watched out the window as the two men conferred. They were looking at something near her truck. She ran upstairs, found her ski jacket, slipped into her cowboy boots, and went outside.
The front porch was covered in snow and she was careful not to slip. Gabe lifted his head from his and Rhys’ huddle and motioned for her to join them. He met her at the steps and gave her a hand down.
“Come take a look at this.”
She followed him to her truck.
Rhys had turned on his headlights and part of the driveway was illuminated. He made room for her so she could peer inside the cab and swept a flashlight over the interior. “Don’t touch anything.”
Her glovebox was open and its contents were scattered on the passenger seat and floor.
“Did you leave it like that?” Rhys asked.
“No.” It had been so long since she’d opened the glovebox that she didn’t even know what was in there. She kept her vehicle registration and proof of insurance clipped to her visor and her phone charger in the center console. “So I didn’t imagine the noises?”
“Doesn’t look like it,” Rhys said, and she noted his hair was smooshed and the shirt peeking out of his jacket was inside out. He must’ve come straight from bed.
“What do you think they were looking for?” Gabe asked.
“Cash, a credit card, I don’t know.” She checked to make sure her stereo was still there, then scanned the space behind her back seat. Her sweater, a pair of gym shoes, and a nylon shopping bag didn’t appear to have been touched. “You probably interrupted them before they could steal anything.”
“Take another look and tell me if you see anything missing,” Rhys said, and began taking pictures of the glovebox and the stuff spilling out.
“I don’t keep valuables in my truck.” Not since moving to LA. “You think it was kids, screwing around?” She couldn’t imagine anyone breaking into cars in Nugget.
Rhys and Gabe exchanged glances.
“Could be,” Rhys said. “Were you able to make anything out in the dark?”
“Not a thing. But they were loud enough to wake me.”
Gabe turned to look at the house, which was still dark. In her haste to answer the door, she hadn’t even turned on the porch light.
“Whoever it was probably thought no one was home,” he said. “Just about everyone in town knew Logan and Annie were going on their honeymoon.”
“Nothing appears to be missing.” Even so, Raylene was creeped out that a stranger had pawed through her stuff and nervous about being here alone.
Rhys walked around her Ford, sweeping his flashlight over the ground. “Come see this,” he told Gabe.
They both crouched down in the snow, and Raylene went over to see what had caught their attention.
“Footprints,” Gabe said. “It looks like two different sizes.”
“How do you know they’re not yours and mine?” She and Gabe had crossed the driveway several times as they’d loaded his SUV for their treasure hunt that morning.
“Because there wasn’t snow on the ground when we walked here.”
Good point. She hadn’t thought of that. Gabe and Rhys exchanged another glance, and she was starting to get the feeling that they knew something she didn’t.
“What?” she asked.
“Nothing. I’m just thinking whoever it is also has our pickax.”
The possibility hadn’t entered her mind, but she supposed two crimes in one day wasn’t a coincidence. And suddenly she was struck with the idea that this might not be random. “Do you think I’m being targeted?” Perhaps these were pranks to scare her and get her to leave town sooner.
On second thought, it didn’t seem like the Rodriguezes’ style, and they were the ones with the biggest ax to grind against her. Tomorrow, she planned to put a check in their mailbox for Tawny’s damaged dress. Perhaps she’d go straight to their house and ask them face to face.
Rhys combed his hand through his hair. “Let’s just keep our eyes out, okay? Tomorrow morning, someone will come by to take prints. Would you mind staying out of your truck until then?”
“I guess.” She didn’t like the idea of being without wheels. She’d wanted to start searching for the gold first thing in the morning and had to meet with Dana at some point in the day. “You think it’s that big of a deal?” As far as she could tell, the thieves hadn’t even gotten anything.
“You never know” was all Rhys said. He turned to Gabe before heading to his police vehicle. “I’ll talk to you later.”
“Roger that. Thanks for coming out.”
Rhys waved his hand in the air, got in his SUV, and drove away.
Gabe walked over and shined a flashlight on her flannel pajama bottoms and lifted his brows. The pants had little horses on them and said, “I’d rather be riding.”
“They’re warm.” She’d stopped wearing sexy lingerie around the time Butch started making her skin crawl.
“They look hot with the boots.”
She rolled her eyes.
Gabe’s mouth slid up. “Let’s go inside, it’s freezing out here.”
He slung his arm over her shoulder and guided her up the stairs with his light. “You okay?”
“Just a little weirded out.” She flipped on the heat as soon as they got inside. Before she’d gone to bed she’d turned it off, and it was nearly as cold in the house as it had been outside. “Can you stay the night?”
“Yeah,” he said, his voice gruff. Raylene waited for one of his standard-guy come-on lines, but he just opened the door, turned on the light switch, and headed for the kitchen. “Is there anything to eat?”
“Tons. What are you in the mood for?”
He glanced at her, letting his caramel eyes take a stroll down her body, then quickly turned away. “Some of that smoked ham from the wedding.”
Inexplicably disappointed, she pulled the ham out of the refrigerator, along with a container of stuffed mushrooms and some potato salad. He got down two plates and they took turns warming the mushrooms in the microwave.
“You want a glass of wine?” He perused the rack in the sideboard and pulled out a red. “It might help you get back to sleep.”
“No thanks.” And, for no reason she could understand, she told him what she’d never told Logan. “I’m an alcoholic.” Ninety days sober.
He took that in, mulled it over for a second or two, and nodded. “How about a soda or a glass of water?”
“Tea,” she said, and started a flame under Annie’s kettle. “You want some? It’s peppermint.”
He scrunched his nose. “Nah, I’ll stick with water.”
They sat in the kitchen, eating in silence until it drove her nuts.
“Go ahead and say something.”
“About what?” He snagged a stuffed mushroom off her plate because he’d eaten his. “About you being an alcoholic? Clearly you’re doing something about it; I haven’t seen you touch a drink since you’ve been here.”
“I’m ninety days sober.”
He held her gaze, a world of pride shining in his expression. “That’s a big deal, Raylene.”
Her chest squeezed. It was the best thing he could’ve said, because it was a big deal. Not touching a drink in three months had taken every ounce of strength and courage she had. Each day was still a struggle.
“Logan doesn’t know…about my drinking. And I would appreciate it if you didn’t tell him.”
“What happens between us, stays between us.” This time there was something else shining in his eyes. Something a little playful and a little suggestive.
She never knew whether his flirting was bona fide interest or him just playing the horndog, a role he’d apparently perfected in the Navy.
“In that case, let’s not tell him about his pick either,” she said. “I’ll get a new one tomorrow at the hardware store before we go back to the site.”
He’d started to take their plates to the sink and stopped in the middle of the kitchen. “It’s time to give up on that, Ray.”
“Uh-uh, I’m not leaving until I find it. I don’t care if someone’s trying to scare me off, I won’t go without the gold.”
“Then you’ll be here forever, because there is no gold.”
“You’re wrong.” She got up, took the plates from him, and stuck them in the dishwasher. “It’s there, and I’m going to find it.”
He pinned her in at the sink. “What makes you so certain?”
“My dad wouldn’t have told us about it if it didn’t exist.” Ray was a bastard, but he wasn’t prone to believing in fairy tales. If he said the gold was there, it was there.
He exhaled. “Suit yourself, Ray. But I think you’re wasting your time.”
She shrugged. “I have to find a place for Gunner before I can leave anyway.”
“Yeah, about that.” He moved in closer, completely boxing her in. “You got any ideas? Because I’m thinking after Tawny’s dress situation, Nugget isn’t feeling too hospitable toward you and Wilbur.”
“I was told by Harper Matthews that there’s a stable at Sierra Heights. Do you know the guy in charge there?”
“You mean Griffin Parks?” He lifted her chin with his finger, so she’d have to look up at him. “The same Griffin Parks who owns the Gas and Go where you had your famous incident with Jake Stryker? I believe he was there that night.”
“Oh jeez.” She’d been in rare form that night. Raylene squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block the memory. But it all came rushing back.
“Have you been drinking, ma’am?”
“No. Have you?” She flashed a little boob, and when he didn’t take the bait, screamed, “Don’t you touch me!”
Jake ignored the accusation. “Ma’am, I’m gonna need to see your license.”
“Uh…I don’t think so.”
“If you want to drive away, you’ll have to take a sobriety test, and I’m afraid that starts by you giving me your license.”
“Do you know who I am?” She jabbed her finger at his badge.
“More important, do you know who you are?” Jake said, and Griffin had laughed.
“I’m calling my father,” she said, and tottered backward on her high-heeled boots. “In case you didn’t know, he’s Ray Rosser of the Rock and River Ranch.”
“I think that’s a good idea, call him,” Jake told her. “That way he can drive you home and you can sleep it off.”
She dumped her purse on the floor, looking for her cell phone. She found it in a pile of makeup and tampons, made a big show of pounding in a number, then staggered off to a private corner of the store.
Lucky had come in and gotten her that night, and they’d had a big fight on the way home. If she had to guess, he’d already fallen in love with Tawny by then.
“Well, there goes that idea,” she told Gabe. Was there anyone in Nugget who hadn’t witnessed her acting badly? Raylene didn’t think so.
“I’ll talk to Grif. He’s a good guy. If there’s room in the barn, he’ll give your horse a temporary home.”
She’d still have to come up with the money to pay for it, and find someone to feed and water Gunner until she could afford a permanent situation. Even so, she’d be eternally grateful. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He leaned down and kissed the tip of her nose, then drew a deep, unsteady breath. “Now, what are we going to do about the fact that we really want to have sex with each other?”
She snorted. “Speak for yourself, bucko.” But even to her own ears the retort sounded weak. Especially when she continued to stand there, one inch away from plastering her boobs against his chest.
He thought so too, because he rolled over her denial like an eighteen-wheeler by hooking his arm around her waist. “Logan won’t like it. In fact, he’ll probably cut my balls off.”
“I thought what happens between us, stays between us,” she mimicked and then wondered what she was doing, egging him on like that.
“I can’t lie to my best friend.”
“It’s not lying, it’s omitting information that’s none of his business to begin with.” Okay, this was insane. She was practically begging him to have sex with her. She closed her eyes and pretended to be naked with Butch, hoping the visual would make her sufficiently sick. Nope, all she saw was Gabe, which made her entire body tingle, even her hair.
“It really isn’t his business, is it? I mean we’re both consenting adults—hardly innocents.” Gabe looked to her for confirmation.
She nodded, and once again questioned her sanity. But she wanted him, and she hadn’t wanted a man in a long time.
He lifted her onto the counter and stared into her eyes, silently telling her it was her move. She wrapped her legs around his hips and pulled him closer. He kissed her. It was more intense than before, like the buildup to this moment had left him so wanting that he was out of control. The idea that she could do that to him was heady.
“Let’s get this off.” He fumbled with her zipper, and she had a feeling that he was usually defter at it.
She shrugged out of the down jacket and let it drop to the floor, leaving her in a sleep camisole that was thin and lacy—a weird contrast with the horse pajama pants. But she hadn’t planned for anyone to see her sleepwear tonight. Gabe didn’t seem to mind. He’d stopped kissing her to stare, a sexy smile playing on his lips.
“Damn, you’re hot, Ray.”
She tugged him in and got his jacket off. He had on a thermal shirt that clung to his torso like a second skin. She could see the ridges of muscle in his abdomen and couldn’t help herself. She ran her hand over his stomach. Everything was hard as granite, and she felt him shudder at her touch.
“Jeez, Moretti, you’ve let yourself go to pot.”
He chuckled, knowing exactly how ripped he was. Then he cupped the back of her head and captured her mouth with another kiss. She clung to his shoulders, her body igniting and her breasts tightening.
His hands trailed up her sides and slid back down in slow motion, teasing her senses. Her pajama bottoms became constricting, and she longed to take them off. He shifted to her ribcage and worked his way up to her breasts, stroking her nipples over the flimsy material of her top. She whimpered, and in one quick swoop he lifted her off the counter.
“Where we going?”
“To find a bed.” The words came out like a croak.
He carried her upstairs, found her room, and laid her in the middle of her rumpled sheets. She still had her boots on and scrambled to the edge of her bed to pry them off.
“Later, the boots stay on.” He slapped her hands away and tugged them off himself, then fell on top of her, the hard bulge in his jeans pressing against her belly.
She inched her hands under his shirt and explored his chest. It was solid like the rest of him and slightly furred. “Take this off.”
“You first.” He winked.
Raylene had never been known for her modesty, but she suddenly felt shy. When she stalled, he took over, dragging the hem of her camisole over her head.
“Damn,” he said, and weighed each breast in his hands, then took one in his mouth.
She let out a moan, the sensation of his warm lips and hot breath so exquisite she thought she’d never felt anything this good. And then it only got better. He squeezed her other breast with his hand, rubbing his thumb in circular motions over her nipple. She arched her back, giving him better access, and nearly came off the bed. The mattress was only full size, and Gabe was a big man.
“Good?” he asked, and her entire body answered with a quiver. “Yeah,” he whispered.
His hand slid inside the drawstring waist of her pajama bottoms and his fingers moved over her. One dipped inside. “You’re so wet.”
“Mmm” was all she could manage, and went for his belt buckle.
He pushed her hand away and tugged the flannel pants over her ass until she lay completely naked. Gabe turned on his side and went up on one elbow to gaze down on her. His eyes slid up and down her body, taking her in from head to toe. “I’m going to say it again: damn!”
“Now your turn.” She rucked his shirt up and he finished the job, tossing the thermal somewhere past the foot of the bed. The man was Italian Renaissance-statue perfect. She kissed his chest and worked her way down to the waistband of his jeans, trying once again to unhook his belt.
He unfastened it himself and lifted his hips to pull his jeans down. They got stuck around his boots and he kicked them off, using his foot to get his pants the rest of the way down. All Raylene could do was stare. He was thick and long and hard and so purely male it made her mouth water.
“I was in a rush,” he said about the fact that he’d been commando under his jeans.
“I’m not complaining.” And then she did the rare thing—at least for her—by taking him in her mouth. He tasted salty and musky and…so good.
“Ah, shit, Raylene. Honey…” He brought her head up. “I want you to do that…but later.” Gabe rolled onto her and pressed his erection between her thighs.
She bowed and moaned as he slid up and down against her. The friction was working her up to a fever pitch. “Gabe?”
“Huh?” His hands were underneath her, squeezing her butt, driving her even higher.
“Please.”
“Yeah, okay, let me get a condom.” He was out of breath.
The entire time he’d dug up her land, looking for the gold, she hadn’t seen him so much as break a sweat. But this—she—had undone him. The thought heightened her excitement even more.
He leaned over the bed, got something off the floor, and before she knew it he was suited up and entering her. For a second, she froze.
“You okay?” He started to pull out.
“No, don’t stop. It’s just been awhile.”
He went slow, rocking into her a little at a time. The sensation of him filling her was so erotic that she nearly climaxed right then and there. It had been more than a year since she’d had sex, and even longer since she’d had an orgasm. Even the self-administered kind.
“Mmm.”
“Better?” he asked.
“So good.”
He quickened the pace and laved her breasts with attention. Her body grew more accustomed to his size, and the extra stimulation loosened her up. Soon she was matching him stroke for stroke, moving to their own special rhythm, so in sync that the pleasure rocketed through her like a current of electricity.
He grunted, calling out her name, whispering endearments and describing the things he wanted to do to her in explicit detail. The words, and his caresses—both dirty and sweet, rough and gentle—took her to a new plateau. She wrapped her legs around his hips, wanting him deeper. Faster. Gabe pumped harder, stroking every erogenous zone on her body with his hands and his lips.
“Ah,” he called out. “You close?” He reached between their joined bodies and worked her with his finger while he tongued her nipples.
She felt it low in her belly, and then her whole body began to tremble as she called his name. The orgasm ripped through her in a forceful rush, rocking and rolling like a seven-magnitude earthquake. He continued to pound into her, prolonging the sensation until her body felt limp and sated.
Gabe pistoned his hips a few more times, threw his head back and shuddered, then fell on top of her like a rag doll.
“Wow,” he said, coming up on both elbows. “You alive down there, Ray?”
“Just barely.” She was exhausted, but all her nerve endings purred.
He rolled to his side and pulled her into his arms. “A little shut-eye, then round two. What do you say?”
She was already asleep.