Every Heartbeat After

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Kit

The number one libido killer has got to be your ex grimacing at you from across the bar while you attempt to flirt with someone new.

And not because she wants you instead. Because she thinks you have no game.

I watch the tall redhead I’d been attempting to charm walk away, silently cursing Zoey Allen for being unable to mask her emotions.

“Have you considered unscented hair cream?” Zoey asks as soon as I’m within earshot. Without waiting for the request, she tucks a glass under the seasonal IPA’s spout and pulls. “Or maybe change into your uniform, if that’s allowed. Women love a man in uniform.”

I drop my empty glass onto the countertop and take a seat. Propping both elbows on the bar, I catch my own terse gaze in the mercury-glass wall behind her. “Have you considered keeping your opinions to yourself?”

She deposits a coaster in front of me, then pins it with the freshly poured beer.

“Believe it or not, I have.” Eyebrows raised, she drums a riff with hot-pink fingernails against the wooden countertop. “But then you do something stupid like pretending to write a woman a ticket for being too beautiful, and I lose all faith in your abilities.”

I snort, rippling the surface of my beer. “Worked on you.”

Her blue eyes narrow. “I’m still claiming temporary insanity on that one.”

“Of course you are.”

We went on a handful of dates when I first moved to town a couple years back. She quickly realized she had feelings for her now fiancé and I wasn’t in the mood for anything serious, so it made sense to cut things off. No harm, no foul. We’ve remained friends ever since. And what kind of friend would I be if I didn’t seize every opportunity to remind her she’s no better than any other woman I’ve seduced in this bar?

Her bar. Even if I wanted to avoid doing this in front of her, I couldn’t. Zoey owns Nomads. It’s the only decent place to get a drink and potentially meet someone in all of Loveless, our quiet little town at the foot of the Colorado Rockies.

I thought moving somewhere so small would bring me peace of mind after leaving the Air Force and ending my broken marriage. And in some ways, it has. Life as a sheriff’s deputy here is none too eventful the majority of the time. Mostly traffic duty and the occasional drug bust. But I’m pushing thirty-two, and while I have no desire to remarry, it’d be nice to have a slightly bigger pool of dating prospects.

A deep chuckle sounds from my left. I turn, realizing Chase Taylor, who owns the small outfitter next door, is sitting a few stools down. He raises his glass and points a finger at Zoey. “Give the man a break, Zo. Just because your sense of humor is too highbrow for his jokes doesn’t mean every woman’s is.”

I’m about to thank him when the implication catches up to me. “Wait?—”

“You’re right.” Zoey blows a stray blonde curl off her forehead and offers me a satirical smile. “Surely there’s someone out there who finds Deputy Llewellyn’s unique combination of uncontrollable lust and pure male ego to be incredibly enticing.”

Chase takes a sip to cover his laughter. I sit up straight, gaze slicing from him to Zoey. “Thanks. Glad to have you both in my corner.”

Chase’s smile is cheeky and loose. The man is happiness incarnate, even exhausted as he is from caring for his newborn twins. And he is exhausted, if the purple bags beneath his eyes are any indication. “Happy to help, man.”

Whether it’s a growl or a groan that putters off my lips, I couldn’t say. “When is your wife coming back to bartending? She’s much nicer to me. Or Zander. Where is he tonight? Anyone who doesn’t delight in my failures, please.”

“Eden’s a bit busy keeping two infants alive, but I’ll send her your regards.” Chase’s face goes soft, eyes dopey. An expression of pure adoration if I’ve ever seen one. “I’m actually just picking up dinner; then I’ll be headed that way, too. Believe me, I’m sure she wishes she were here. Adeline’s going through a sleep regression.”

“Oh man, I forgot she mentioned that.” Zoey winces sympathetically. “I’ll have Santi throw in some extra snacks for the midnight power hour.”

Chase nods his appreciation. As if on cue, a bell chimes from the kitchen, signaling an order is up. He downs the last of his beer as Zoey tucks the towel she’d been using to wipe the counter into her back pocket and points at me. “And Zander is on one of his field courses for the alpine rescue team training. You’re stuck with me, so be nice.”

With that, she disappears into the kitchen, and I sink lower into my seat.

“It’s okay, man,” Chase offers. “It took me giving up on looking to find Eden. I’m sure it’ll happen for you, too.”

A frown I’m embarrassed to admit is rooted in the early stages of self-loathing threatens to take over my face. What is that? It’s been roughly three years since my marriage imploded, and in that time the balance of flirting enough to get laid but not so much that it becomes something more has worked well for me. It’s been fun. Easy. And after Courtney knocked the breath out of me with her affair, lighthearted was exactly what I needed. So why is disappointment tickling my already tense jaw at the fact that I suspect Chase is wrong?

I never wanted it to happen for me again, so why do I care if it doesn’t?

“Order’s up. I threw in two extra skillet cookies for Eden.” Zoey forgoes the bar and rounds its corner instead, wrapping Chase in a hug before depositing the to-go bag in his outstretched hand. “Give my love to those babies, would you?”

“You know I will. See you around.” Chase meets my gaze over the top of Zoey’s head and salutes me. “Give ’em hell, Kit.”

“Or give ’em a gentlemanly approach and a nice compliment that doesn’t involve the threat of jail.” Zoey pinches my cheek as she skirts past me. “See how that works out for you.”

“Don’t you have other patrons to bother?” I grumble.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m going,” she tosses over her shoulder. She heads for a table of bankers in the corner booth, all dressed in polos and pressed slacks that have lost a bit of their crispness thanks to a long day of desk warming.

I scan the rest of the crowd. Mostly locals, which is surprising for a Friday in the dead of summer. The far wall is filled with booths, and high-tops dot the expanse of hardwood between them and the bar where I sit. In lieu of normal decorations, plants fill every bit of open space. If there’s one thing I know about Zoey, it’s that her thumb is evergreen.

The room buzzes with energy. Everyone’s excited for the weekend. Ready to hit the mountains or go soak in a lake or just waste away in front of their televisions. They’ve all got somebody. A coworker to nudge while animatedly recounting the day’s watercooler talk. A partner to wrap an arm around and pull in close. A friend to send cookies home for while she cares for her newborns.

Loveless and all its lovely people have welcomed me in as much as anyone. Still, I can’t help but feel other. Set apart.

I rub at the knot in my chest. It’s this fucking day that’s got me all sentimental. Every year I feel it coming on like a migraine. It’s probably for the best if I don't bring anybody home with me. What I need is a cold shower and a nightcap. Then I can ignore the inevitable pity text from my parents as I scroll through the pictures I only let myself look at once a year, to remind myself why it’s better this way.

Better she cheated, so I could end it before we did something stupid like add a kid to the mix. Better I don’t visit my parents, so I can’t see the disappointment written all over their faces. Better to be alone, so I can’t be hurt like that again. On what would be our wedding anniversary, it’s important to remember all the reasons this is the way things have to be.

“What are you moping about, Rookie?”

I blink away the haze that had filled my vision, revealing my boss, Tomas, and his best friend, Gary. The two of them together are a show in opposites. Gary, with his shiny, bald head, short stature, and white Santa beard. Tomas meanwhile stands nearly as tall as me at six feet, with close-cropped dark hair that’s gone silver at the temples and deep wrinkles embedded in the tawny skin of his face. He’s still in his uniform, though he should’ve been off hours ago.

“Not moping. Just thinking.” I drag my gaze over his person pointedly. “Didn’t have time to change?”

“Had to take this one to PT a few towns over.” Tomas elbows Gary. “One step closer to getting that boot off.”

My gaze drops to said boot, which is currently propped on one of those orthopedic scooters that someone—I’m betting Zoey—has decked out in plant stickers. “How’d you do that again?”

“Fishing incident.” Gary waves a hand, rolls over, and takes a seat on the stool beside me. His right foot is more of a club than an appendage at the moment, with the medical boot immobilizing his leg from toe to knee. “I don’t like to talk about it. Real traumatic.”

I quirk a brow, and Tomas snorts.

“Is the trauma more closely related to snapping your ankle tripping over a fallen log or the size of that trout you let get away?”

“It would’ve broken records,” Gary mock-cries, slamming a fist against the counter.

“Funny how all the fish that got away were record setters,” I goad, elbowing the old man.

“Same with women,” Tomas says.

I scoff. “I don’t know about that ?—”

“He’s right,” Zoey interjects as she reclaims her spot behind the bar and begins assembling drinks. She meets my gaze and winks. “For example, that woman earlier set the record for fastest to reject you.”

“ Ouch, ” Gary says just as Tomas makes a sizzling sound through his teeth.

Satisfied with herself, Zoey tucks a curl behind her ear and cocks a brow at Gary. “You boys want anything?”

“Tomas’s wife is making dinner, actually,” Gary says. “So we can’t stay. Just wanted to check in that you’re still good to pick up Tess tomorrow?”

“Who’s Tess?” I ask.

“His niece,” Tomas explains.

“Shit.” Zoey grits her teeth, swiping a hand over her brow. “I’m so sorry, Gary. I completely forgot. What time does she land? Zander’s got this training course all weekend and that other guy we hired quit with no notice, so I’m covering the bar tomorrow.”

“Let’s see, her flight gets in at…” Gary plucks a pair of glasses from his shirt pocket and places them low on the bridge of his nose. The light of his phone screen is reflected back, and I read the display at the same time he says, “Three thirty.”

“That’s right in the middle of dinner prep. I don’t think I can slip away,” she says, panic flashing in her blue gaze.

“Kit can go,” Tomas offers. “He’s covering a night shift for me tomorrow, so he’s not in till seven. And he’s got all night to get a head start on sleeping.”

“What if I have plans?” I ask, indignant.

“Do you?” they all ask simultaneously, with at least three eyebrows raised in my direction. Maybe more from my boss.

I press my lips together, which is the closest thing they’ll be getting to a response.

Tomas grunts. “Knew it.” He turns to Gary. “Just text me the details and I’ll get them over to the rookie.”

“The rookie has been working for you for two years now,” I grumble.

“I have his number,” Gary says, speaking over me. He unlocks his phone and starts typing.

“I haven’t said I’ll go.” My phone chirps in my pocket before the words have died on my lips. I retrieve it, scanning the text Gary just sent. Tess Monroe. Delta Airlines. Three thirty in the afternoon at Denver International. “Since when do you even have a niece?”

“Since about a month ago.” His chest puffs out, and a big smile overtakes his face. No further explanation is offered. “I appreciate you doing this for me, Kit. I’d go, but, you know.” He gestures to his imprisoned foot. “A bit incapacitated at the moment.”

Guess that settles it then. I pocket my phone and meet Zoey’s gaze. “Can you get me the bill?”

“It’s on me,” Gary offers. “To show my appreciation.”

“As if you pay,” Zoey chides. Nomad’s was Gary’s before it was hers, and though I suspect him not paying is something she insisted on more than anything, as a thank-you for selling the place to her, she does a convincing job of pinning him for it.

Tomas chuckles. Gary ignores her and presses on. “She’s staying at the motel up the street. I told her I’d meet her here for dinner after she’s settled. She’s a delight. You’ll like her.”

“Didn’t you say you’ve only known her a month?” I ask, interest officially piqued.

He wipes a hand down his beard, gaze faraway as he says, “I can just tell. She’s something special.”

“Noted. I’ll pull up at the gate and keep an eye out for something special. ”

“Oh, right.” Gary plucks his phone from where he’d set it on the counter and taps through a few screens, then turns it my way.

Tess is something special. It’s a selfie, with poor lighting and an even poorer angle, but there’s something about her that dries up my throat the minute I see her. Shoulder-length blonde hair curls away from her pixie-like face in loose ringlets. Bright green eyes meet my gaze, feeling as alive and animated as if she were right in front of me. Her smile is infectious. Before I know it, I’m wearing one, too.

The phone drops, and Tess’s face is replaced by Gary’s decidedly less attractive one.

“Don’t even think about it,” he warns.

“Don’t worry.” Tomas claps my shoulder and winks. “Llewellyn will be on his best behavior.”

Zoey hoists the tray of drinks onto her shoulder with a grunt. When she speaks, her voice is strained. “Not sure that’s the vote of confidence you think it is, Sheriff.”

She walks away, leaving the attention of both men fully on me.

“I will be,” I finally manage to choke out, wondering why the air in here is suddenly so much thicker. “I mean, erm, I’ll be there. No problem, Gary.”

“There better not be a problem,” he says, brow raised. Too bad he’s as threatening as a mall Santa with his cherub cheeks and twinkling gray eyes. “Don’t you scare off my niece before I’ve even had the chance to meet her.”

“Hell, Gary, if she looks anything like you, you’ve got nothing to worry about,” Tomas teases. “Come on, can’t keep the wife waiting much longer.”

“I’m watching you,” Gary says, but his clipped tone quickly dissolves into laughter. “All right, I’m starved. Let’s go.”

Together, Tomas and I help him from his seat and back onto his scooter. The two of them begin their slow hobble toward the exit. Meanwhile I’m racking my brain, trying to figure out when was the last time a woman stole my breath like that.

Not even a woman. A picture of a woman. And a long fucking time ago, that’s when.

“Uh-oh,” Zoey teases, plopping her now empty tray next to me as she scans my face. “Someone’s in trouble.”

Trouble, indeed.