Chapter Eight #2
Skylar laughed and shook her head.
Rawley placed his forehead against hers. “It’s not possible, is it?”
She tried to steady her voice. “What?”
“That it was even better than the first time.”
Skylar laughed softly. “It must be because it was.”
He chuckled, brushing a stray lock from her face. “I don’t know what this is yet, but I like where it’s going.”
“I do, too.” Skylar grinned. “Don’t you dare break my heart. You don’t want to be on my shit list.”
“Hell, I don’t know you that well yet, but I already fear that list.”
She laughed again. “We really need that shower now.”
“Yep. Grab a condom.”
She reached out, her fingers brushing his, opened the drawer, and pulled out another condom. Rawley slid off the bed, and she pressed against him as he lifted her into his arms.
“You can put me down,” she said with a grin.
“No, I kind of like how this feels.”
She tightened her thighs around his waist as he carried her to the bathroom. He kicked the door closed behind them, and the hush of running water followed.
****
Monday morning, Rawley stepped into the chrome-walled elevator, carrying his Styrofoam cup of black coffee that smelled like heaven to him.
He leaned against the cool metal wall while three women in tailored skirt suits stepped in, their perfumes mingling in the confined space as they kept stealing glances at him.
“Are you a police officer?” the tallest one with copper-colored hair asked as she nodded at his polished badge and the Glock holstered at his hip.
“I’m a livestock agent, ma’am,” he replied.
“We work on the fourth floor,” another one with bright red lipstick said, twirling her pearl necklace between manicured fingers.
Rawley nodded as the brushed steel doors slid shut with a soft hiss, then he sipped his scalding coffee while the elevator ascended with a gentle lurch. When it stopped on his floor, he shoved off from the wall, pushed past the women and stepped out onto the gleaming floor.
“You have a wonderful day, Agent. You sure made ours,” the third woman with a beauty mark above her lip said as the others giggled as they stared at him.
He turned to look at them with a half-smile as he touched the brim of his white straw Stetson, then chuckled when they sighed dramatically as the doors slid shut with a mechanical whine.
Shaking his head, Rawley entered the office to see it already a buzz of activity, fluorescent lights humming above the clatter of keyboards and ringing phones.
He set his cup down on his cluttered desk, removed his hat, and hung it up, then pulled his chair out.
As he was about to sit down, Dave called his name in his gravelly smoker’s voice, and Rawley looked up to see him with his balding head poking out the glass door.
“Come in here, please,” Dave said, then walked around his desk and sat down in his high-backed leather chair with a wheeze.
Rawley sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly, then strode across the floor to the office.
He didn’t even get a chance to knock before Dave waved him inside.
He pushed the glass door open, entered the stuffy room that smelled of old coffee and aftershave, then stood at the desk while Dave shuffled papers.
Finally, he glanced up through wire-rimmed glasses. “Have a seat.”
Rawley sat in one of the leather wingback chairs that creaked under his weight, folded his hands across his stomach and waited, watching dust particles dance in the sunlight streaming through venetian blinds.
This is what an agent did when summoned to Dave’s office because the man was never in a hurry to let you know why he called you in there, preferring to let you stew in anticipation.
“Agent Saunders will be here from Autumn Falls tomorrow. We’re going to need some help on this one.” Dave leaned back in his worn leather chair, steepled his fingers beneath his stubbled chin.
“I agree. If it’s as many as Saunders is saying, two won’t be enough.” Rawley shifted in the chair.
“I’ll get you more men. I just have to see who’s doing what first.” Dave’s voice carried the gravel of not enough sleep.
“Yes, sir.”
“I’ll let you know.”
“Alright.” Rawley stood, then made his way across the sunlit office to his desk, the morning light streaked across the floor.
He sat down, slid the chair closer to his desk with a screech against the linoleum floor, then looked through the high-resolution photos he’d downloaded, saving the mud-splattered tags from that pickup truck.
As he sat there, leaning back in his chair, he clasped his hands behind his head and watched the computer screen scan through tire treads.
He knew one set was a Peterbilt, the distinctive herringbone pattern unmistakable, but another set looked more like big mud tires to him, and he wanted to make sure he hadn’t missed something.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Killian, Beau, and Hud, standing in front of his desk like three fence posts, their shadows stretching across his paperwork. He ignored them.
“What do you think? He’s tired?” Killian said, folding his arms over his chest.
“Maybe hungry?” Beau added, adjusting his Stetson.
“Or horny,” Hud chimed in with a grin.
Rawley looked at them and pointed to each one, answering their questions.
“No. No. Always,” he said, making them laugh.
“Seriously, what’s going on, Rawley?” Killian asked as he leaned against the corner of the desk, his holster creaking with the movement.
“This Mitchell case. It seems the agent in Autumn Falls thinks it’s a bigger operation than just Preston’s cattle. Cases like this have been popping up across the state. They come in with an eighteen-wheeler, load the cattle and disappear into the night like ghosts.”
“Are you going to need help on it?” Killian’s eyes narrowed against the glare from the window.
Rawley nodded, as he felt a muscle ticking in his jaw. “It’s too big for just one or two people. Dave told me that Agent Saunders from Autumn Falls will be here tomorrow, and Agent Jackson in Kalispell is working on it there. They both think it’s the same group.”
“I’ll let Dave know I’m available, if you want.” Killian straightened his shoulders.
“I appreciate that, Killian. The more the better.”
“I’m in,” Hud said, his voice firm.
“Hell, me too.” Beau nodded
“Thanks guys. Check with Dave and if he says it’s alright, I’ll clue you in.”
The men nodded, then headed for Dave’s office with long strides while Rawley got back to the screen, the cattle rustlers’ tire tracks swimming before his eyes.
****
Skylar’s fingers danced across the worn keys of her keyboard, the soft clatter echoing through the quiet of her home.
Morning light filtered through half-closed blinds, casting slatted gold stripes across her desk, cluttered with half-empty coffee mugs and scraps of plot notes.
At long last, her stubborn hero had found his voice, and she raced to capture every passionate syllable before he fell silent again.
Even as she typed, a slow smile blossomed on her lips, the same smile that stole over her face whenever she thought of Rawley.
He was remarkable in every conceivable way; his dark gaze, that handsome face, the way he made the world seem infinitely more vivid.
She paused, hands hovering over the keys, and drew in a soft, reluctant sigh.
She knew what this meant; sooner or later, her heart would break.
The dull vibration of her phone sliced through the tension, nudging across the desk like a small mechanical insect.
Skylar reached out, picked it up, and smiled when Ryan’s bright, familiar face filled the screen.
She tapped the green button then the speaker icon.
“Hi,” she said.
“Hi,” Ryan replied. “How was your Sunday with Rawley?”
Skylar let out a nervous laugh. “I’m in so much trouble, Ryan. I know I’m going to fall in love with him.”
“Well, maybe he’ll fall in love with you, too.”
Skylar traced the rim of her coffee mug. “I don’t know. I’m scared, but not enough to stop seeing him.”
“When are you going to see him again?”
She lifted her eyebrows. “He said he’d be in touch. At least, he didn’t chuck me under the chin or call me babe.” She grinned as Ryan snorted into the phone.
“I’m so glad you moved here,” Ryan said. “Do you want to come out this Saturday for a cookout? Seth’s celebrating. He finally got that young horse to chase the flag.”
Skylar leaned back. “That sounds like fun.”
“It will be. He roped Ringo into manning the grill, they all swear he cooks the best steaks on a grill.”
Skylar laughed. “Steaks? That is some celebration.”
“Cull says Seth does this every time he reaches a milestone with a horse, only in summer, when the air isn’t frigid. You could bring Rawley since he and Seth know each other.”
She bit her lip. “Do you think I should ask him?”
“Absolutely. Why not?”
Her chest tightened. “What if he thinks I’m being clingy?”
“By inviting him to a cookout?” Ryan laughed.
Skylar made a theatrical huff. “Some days I really don’t like you. Today is one of them.”
“Bullshit, you love me. Seriously, ask him. If he turns you down, he either has plans… or he’ll think you’re being... clingy. God knows how clingy people get when they want to invite someone to a cookout.”
Skylar burst out laughing. “No, today I hate you. I’m hanging up. I’ll text him.”
“Can’t you just call?”
She shook her head. “I have no clue where he is, or what he’s doing.”
“Makes sense. Okay, you clingy bitch, talk later. Love you.” Ryan hung up.
Skylar stared at her screen, then thumbed through her contacts until Rawley’s name glowed at the top.
The little thumbnail beside it was a selfie he’d taken of them yesterday while riding, both of them smiling, the world falling away behind their carefree faces.
She tapped the picture, tracing his strong jawline with her fingertip before her thumb hovered over the keyboard. She typed:
Do you have plans for this Saturday?