Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
MILES
When I said I was gonna drink whiskey with Loxley, I didn’t mean anytime soon. And definitely not on a night when I had to work the next day. Sure, I enjoyed a beer at Fiddlers now and then, or even at home. But whiskey? That’s a whole different beast.
The week had flown by in a blur of work for me, and music for her. I’d come home, we’d eat, we’d stay up too late in each other’s arms, and then we’d fall asleep just to do it all over again.
Grams had called to check in since I’d missed Sunday dinner. Easton caught me on patrol and dragged me to lunch. Linc tried to pry, sensing something was different, but I managed to brush it off with a casual “life’s all good.”
And honestly, it was all good.
Having Loxley waiting for me every day turned the worst parts of the job, like hauling the Murphy brothers out of the bar or dealing with endless barking dog calls, into minor inconveniences. Because I knew the day would end with her on her knees, her mouth on me, and her moaning in my ears.
There was just one problem. I was getting used to it way too fast. It was unsettling how easily I’d started imagining this as my forever, even though I knew she wouldn’t be here forever. But damn, it felt like she belonged with me.
Captain called me into his office just as I was wrapping up for the night.
It was Thursday, and with Friday off, it was finally mine and Lox’s whiskey night.
For some reason, Loxley had been looking forward to it, and her excitement made the idea of getting drunk sound better than it had since the day I turned 21.
“Yeah, Captain?” I asked, stepping inside. I didn’t want to sit because I didn’t want to stay long, but he motioned to the chair and shut the door.
“Everything okay?”
“It’s been two weeks since Loxley Adams disappeared,” he said, his tone heavy. “The buzz around here is that when we find her, it won’t be good.” He took a deep breath while my heart raced. He thought Loxley was in trouble, and I wanted to tell him not to worry, that she was safe.
But I couldn’t. Not yet.
“If her team really thought a crazy superfan had taken her, there’d be more people involved by now,” he continued. “They’re keeping this too quiet. Makes me think there’s more to the story.”
“You’re probably right,” I agreed, keeping my tone neutral. There was definitely more to the story. “I’ll keep my eye out, like always.”
“We’ll need to do more than that,” he said firmly. “We’re going to have to be the ones to find her. Enjoy your day off. Take the whole weekend, actually. Come Monday, we have someone coming in town who might help us get to the bottom of this mess.”
His phone rang, ending the conversation. He waved me out without offering more details, but I had a feeling the visitor was one of the people that wanted Loxley back on stage as soon as possible.
Instead of heading straight home, I stopped by Fiddlers. Blue raised an eyebrow when she saw me in uniform. “You must be lost,” she teased. “Or are you expecting trouble I don’t know about?”
I smiled, taking a seat at the far end of the bar. “I need your advice.”
She snorted. “Miles, I’m the last person anyone goes to for advice.”
“Maybe, but you’re the best bartender I know. And this is whiskey advice.”
Her laugh nearly echoed in the empty bar. “Whiskey, huh?”
I nodded, feeling like an idiot. “I just need to know which one won’t kill me.”
Blue lined up a few bottles, explaining proofs, percentages, and taste profiles. Turns out the stronger the whiskey, the less likely I’d suffer the next morning. It didn’t sound right, but I trusted her.
Instead of hitting the liquor store, I bought a bottle from her stash and made my way home, laughing at myself for how far I’d go for Loxley’s latest whim.
When I walked in through the kitchen, the familiar sound of her guitar filled the house.
She was strumming softly, singing half-formed lyrics.
But the moment she spotted me easing into the living room, she tossed the guitar aside and ran to me, jumping into my arms like she’d missed me all damn day.
“Hey, beautiful,” I said, kissing her.
“Did you bring the stuff?” she asked between planting kisses on my lips and cheeks.
“Of course I did. But tell me again why you think drinking whiskey is a good idea?”
“It’ll make me a real country star,” she said with a wink.
Normally, I’d be carrying her to my room, letting her help me out of my uniform before we did anything else for the evening. But since I didn’t have to work tomorrow, or apparently all weekend, I told her to get changed.
Then we headed out in the Jeep. The sun was setting, music was playing, and our hands were intertwined near the shifter between us. The bottle of whiskey was tucked safely on the floorboard behind her seat.
“Where are we going?” she hollered over the noise of the wind.
“Lookout Point,” I yelled back. “It’s where all the cool kids go to make out.”
“How romantic,” she laughed. “I hope the cops don’t find us.”
“Speaking of cops,” I grimaced, remembering I needed to tell her about Captain’s visitor. “Apparently, someone’s coming to town. Captain thinks they’re gonna help us find you.”
“What?!” she shouted, almost making me slam on the brakes. “What does that even mean?”
“I don’t know, Lox, but it makes me wonder if your manager is going from town to town, police station to police station, trying to find you.”
“What should I do?” she asked, her voice tight with panic.
I ran my thumb over the back of her hand, then brought it to my lips. “Don’t worry, Lox. You’re always safe with me.”
She turned to look out the window, watching the trees blur by as we drove. I didn’t know what she was thinking, but I worried she’d decide that enough was enough and leave me to go back on tour.
It was what she should’ve done. She had contracts, fans, and employees. Those people depended on her being on stage every night. But I’d started depending on her too, and selfish as it was, keeping her with me had become my new mission.
When we got close to the lake, I turned onto an old path I’d found years ago. It wasn’t an official lookout point, and I’d never caught anyone there while on patrol, but it was where I went when I needed peace. It was one of my favorite places in the world.
The Jeep’s headlights cut off as the moon began reflecting on the lake. Other than the water in front of us, we were surrounded by trees. It was so secluded that no one could see us unless a boat came uncomfortably close.
Clouds had gathered across the water and I could tell we wouldn’t have long before the rain caught up with us. I spread a blanket out on the grass near the edge of the small cliff, then pulled Loxley down beside me. She sat comfortably, her gaze fixed on the shimmering water.
“This is even better than being on the lake the other day,” she said with a smile.
“Probably because I didn’t bring the fishing poles,” I joked as I grabbed the bottle of whiskey and a couple of red Solo cups.
“Nice touch,” she said with a grin, lifting the cup after I poured her a couple of fingers’ worth.
“I thought you’d like that,” I said, raising my own cup. “Country singers drink out of red solo cups.”
“Well here’s to finding out who I really am,” she added, clinking her cup against mine.
Our eyes locked as we each took a sip. I knew what to expect—the burn in my throat, the warmth spreading through my veins. But Loxley clearly didn’t. She took too big of a gulp and ended up coughing, her eyes watering as I laughed and patted her back.
She tried again, with the same result.
“Slowly, you goofball.”
“Why don’t you look like you’re dying?” she wheezed, wiping her eyes.
“Because I only had a small sip. I still have to drive us home.”
After a few smaller sips, she finally got the hang of it, but I set my cup aside, content to let my one sip settle.
At the rate she was going, I’d definitely end up being more than just her designated driver.
Hell, there was a chance she might not even remember the whole evening if I let her keep drinking.
Thankfully, after finishing her cup, she set it down and climbed into my lap. I wrapped my arms around her as she ran her nails along the back of my head and neck, sending shivers down my spine.
“Is it illegal to make love out here?” she asked softly, and I shook my head before she even finished the question.
It might technically have been against the law, but I didn’t care.
It had never been my intention to go home without sinking myself inside of her on that blanket by the water.
Before that moment, every time I thought of us being together, I thought of it as having sex or fucking, maybe even just messing around.
But she had said the words, “make love,” and those two words alone felt heavier and more meaningful.
Was that what this was? As we slowly undressed each other, kissing softly and letting our hands roam over each other's skin, were we making love? Rain started to fall but we didn’t move, or make a run for it. We simply let it be part of the moment.
It was more than just desire. It was need.
It was connection. No one had ever elicited such a yearning from me in my entire life.
Part of me was scared that I was just caught up in the fact that she was Loxley Adams, but that couldn’t have been true because despite acknowledging that she was who she was, I’d never treated her any other way.
In fact, it didn’t really matter who she was because as she lowered herself onto my cock and moved back-and-forth, the rain started to fall, our eyes locking and our breathing mixing together, I knew exactly who she was.
She was mine.