Chapter Fifteen
Skylar stared at the ornate clock on the mantle, as she waited for Rawley to arrive.
Every creak in the house made her pulse quicken.
She nearly launched herself off the sofa when the rumble of an engine approached, then exhaled a shaky breath when she recognized the familiar growl of Rawley’s Silverado.
She walked across the hardwood floor to the door, pressing her nose against the frosted glass pane to see him stepping from his truck, his broad shoulders hunched against the biting wind.
Her heart fluttered like a trapped bird.
He yanked open the back door, leaned in, then stepped back as the two dogs jumped out, their coats gleaming.
She couldn’t help but laugh as they raced to the door, their tails whipping back and forth with hurricane force.
Skylar swung open the door just as Rawley strode up the flagstone walk, his duffel bag slung over one shoulder, probably stuffed with shirts, jeans and that sandalwood aftershave that made her dizzy.
“Hi,” she said, her stomach plummeting when he flashed a grin that crinkled the corners of his dark eyes. Oh, Skylar Jane McCoy, you are drowning in those eyes, she reminded herself for the hundredth time.
He stepped onto the porch as the dogs circled her legs, their cold wet noses investigating her wool socks.
“Hi, baby,” he murmured, his voice like warm honey as he pressed his lips against hers.
“Come inside before you freeze,” she whispered against his mouth, tasting coffee and mint.
“Thanks. Come on, guys.”
Once inside the warmth of the living room, Rawley watched as the dogs’ nails clicked frantically across the floor until they spotted Cosmo, who arched his back and leapt from his perch on the window seat.
They tore after the cat in a blur of black and white fur, nearly knocking over a side table in their pursuit. Skylar laughed as she watched them.
“At least they’re getting along,” she said, watching Cosmo dart under the sofa with ease.
“I’m going to check those plaster casts. I’ll be right back.”
“Alright.”
“Lock the door behind me.”
“Okay.”
“I won’t be long.”
She nodded, her golden hair catching the lamplight, and he walked outside into the crisp night air.
****
Rawley waited until he heard the click of the deadbolt.
The snow crunched beneath his boots as he opened the back door on his truck to remove cardboard boxes for the casts, then made his way to them using his flashlight to cut through the inky darkness.
Moonlight filtered through the pine trees, casting long shadows across the clearing.
He was relieved to see the plaster casts were undisturbed, their detailed impressions perfect.
He squatted down, carefully removed them from the soft earth, wrapped them in paper, and placed them inside the boxes with steady hands.
After securing them in his truck, he trudged back to the porch.
He lightly tapped his knuckles against the door; it opened and he stepped inside to the welcoming warmth.
The dogs scrambled toward him, toenails clicking frantically on the hardwood floor as if he’d been gone for hours.
He removed his hat and sheepskin coat, then hung them on the antique coat rack by the door.
“I love your coat. It’s what I always have my characters wear.” She smiled at him, her eyes crinkling at the corners.
“It keeps you warm in these Montana winters for sure. Do you happen to have decaf coffee?”
“I do. I’ll make you a cup.”
“Thanks, Skylar,” he said quietly as he stared into her blue eyes.
She tilted her head, a strand of hair falling across her cheek. “Are you sure coffee is what you want?”
Rawley shook his head as he grinned. “For now.”
“Well, damn.” She laughed. “I’ll be right back. Please take a seat.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Skylar made his cup in the kitchen, the aroma of fresh coffee drifting through the house, then reentered the living room where the fire crackled in the stone hearth.
He got to his feet, then she handed him the steaming mug.
He took it from her, their fingers brushing, and took a tentative sip of the rich, dark liquid.
She sat down beside him on the couch, tucking her legs beneath her.
“How was your day?”
Rawley leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “Good. I didn’t find the men, but one of them met me in the parking lot of the courthouse when I left for the day. His eyes were bloodshot, hands trembling. He wants out and will help me get them if I make a deal with him.”
She folded her hands in her lap. “Can you do that?”
Rawley shrugged, the leather of his holster creaking. “We can try, but it’s mostly up to the judge and the victims of the thefts.”
“Did he seem truthful?” She wrapped her fingers around her mug of cooling tea.
“I’m not trusting him yet. He could just be a good actor and setting me up.” He rubbed the stubble on his jaw. “I have to talk to him. I’m sure I can tell if he’s lying.”
“What happens now?”
“He’s supposed to show up at the department tomorrow. We’ll see.” Rawley’s voice carried the weariness of too many broken promises.
“I hope he shows up.” The worry lines around her eyes deepened.
“Yes, I do too.” He reached across and squeezed her hand.
“I’m still going to go to my cabin. I think it’s best for me.” She pulled her hand away, folding her arms across her chest.
“Alright. That’s your decision, but you shouldn’t have to live in fear and maybe you’ll be able to concentrate.”
“I have to meet my deadline and right now, I’m stuck.”
“I understand. I don’t like it, but I think it is best until this case is settled.” He sighed.
“I agree.” She picked up the remote and handed it to him, her fingers brushing his. “Find us a movie.”
He took the remote, flipped through channels, the light flickering across the room, and stopped on a movie with explosions lighting up the screen.
“Is this one okay with you?” he asked, as he raised an eyebrow.
“Sure.” She settled deeper into the cushions.
“Okay.” He toed off his boots, put his socked feet on the coffee table, then removed them quickly. “Sorry.”
“About what?”
“Putting my feet up on your table. It’s a habit.”
“Oh, it’s fine. Really.” She gestured dismissively.
“I appreciate that. Come here, baby.” He opened his arm, creating a space for her between his legs.
She leaned against his chest as he wrapped his arms around her. Two hours later, they headed to bed, the springs of the mattress creaking softly as they fell asleep.
Rawley jerked awake at the rumbling growls coming from the two dogs, their hackles raised as they stared at the bedroom’s half-open door.
Heart pounding, he sat up in the darkness, fumbled for his jeans, socks and flannel shirt on the floor beside the bed, and pulled them on.
He glanced over his shoulder at Skylar, her hair spread across the pillow, her breathing still deep and even. Thank God she hadn’t stirred.
“Come on, guys,” he whispered, the floorboards creaking beneath his feet as he followed them from the bedroom into the kitchen.
Moonlight spilled through the windows, casting long shadows across the countertops.
Nothing moved outside. Still, the dogs’ behavior set his nerves on edge.
He moved toward the living room, sat on the sofa, tugged on his boots, stood, then pulled on his coat and hat, and removed his keys from the pocket and moved to the door, wincing at the metallic click of the lock, then eased the door open.
“Go. Search,” he commanded softly, watching as the dogs bound off the porch, their dark shapes disappearing around the side of the house.
Rawley walked to his truck, the cold air burning his lungs. He removed his gun from the case, loaded it, then headed to the side of the house.
He stayed close to the house, so he didn’t mess up any new tracks.
He clenched his jaw any time he thought about those men scaring her and because of that, she was going back to her place in California.
He didn’t blame her for leaving. It would keep her safe.
But he also knew he’d miss her more than he could say.
The dogs growled as they stared into the woods. Rawley walked to where they stood and it was the same area he’d found the cigarette butts.
He looked around, stared at the dogs, and whispered. “Go.” He grinned as they shot off into the thickets, then he heard them barking, so he made his way into the woods, but before he could get to the road, he heard a truck start up, then drive away spinning tires.
Rawley ran toward the road and saw a high-setting pickup truck tearing away with snow flying up behind it.
“Damn it,” he muttered as he watched it disappear.
After getting back inside the house, he commanded the dogs to lay down, their fur dripping melted snow onto the polished hardwood.
He didn’t want to invade Skylar’s privacy by searching her closet for towels.
The sofa creaked as he sat to remove his boots, then headed down the hallway to find Skylar beneath her quilted duvet.
Moonlight spilled through the half-drawn curtains, illuminating her peaceful face.
He stripped off his damp clothes, the fabric clinging to his skin, before sliding beneath the sheets.
Her body was warm against his chilled skin as he pulled her close, breathing in the strawberry scent of her shampoo.
Rawley pressed his lips against her silky hair when she nestled against his chest. “I’ll never let anything happen to you,” he whispered into the darkness, his eyelids growing heavy until sleep claimed him.
The next morning, snowflakes continued their relentless descent, accumulating in pristine drifts against the windowpanes.
Steam rose from his black coffee as Rawley’s gaze scanned the white landscape, searching for any shadow or movement that didn’t belong.
The storm had transformed the world into a sparkling fortress, too treacherous even for those who might wish them harm.