Chapter 17
Flicker
Sheriff Burke Scott
Burke stopped by the Visitor Center late Friday morning to drop off tourism pamphlets and ended up leaning against the counter while Mary Lou poured him coffee. Lou never missed a chance to chat.
She grinned over her cup. “You’ll get a kick out of this.
I stopped up at Moonshine Creek yesterday to see Ned—he was whittling a pine twig, telling fish tales, as usual—and guess who wandered up to the market while I was there?
Our new neighbor—Darcy. Sweet girl. We told her she ought to get out more, see a little of Sylva. ”
Burke smiled. “Recruiting for the nightlife now, are we?”
Lou leaned in, drumming her fingernails—painted bright pink today—on the counter, eyes bright. “Well,” she whispered, “I told her she just might want to be at Catch My Draft tonight—if you catch my drift.”
She chuckled—a hearty, infectious laugh that filled the whole Visitor Center.
Burke shook his head. “You’re something else, Lou.”
“Just trying to help folks find their footing, hon. Sometimes that starts with a little music and company.”
He nodded back, the corner of his mouth kicking up. “You’ve got a heart the size of this mountain.”
Later That Evening.
When music drifted down Main Street and weekend laughter spilled from open doors, Burke found himself steering his truck toward Catch My Draft—Sylva’s favorite hangout, where half the county gathered on a Friday night.
It was lively inside: old brick walls strung with lights, two stories of chatter and blues-rock. The air was thick with warmth, beer, and the faint sweetness of citrus from the bar. Burke slid onto his usual end seat downstairs, where Mike Stevens was tending bar.
“Sheriff! What can I get ya?” Mike called over the noise.
“Sam Adams.”
Mike popped the cap and slid the bottle across. Burke half-listened to the beat overhead until movement by the door caught his eye.
Darcy—without a glance his way—black slacks, sleeveless top, the low-cut back catching the light—started up the stairs toward the Sky Bar. Two men turned to watch her pass. Burke tamped down the flicker of jealousy, irritated by how quick it came.
He tried not to stare, but the sway of her walk made him forget his beer.
“Sorry, Mike. Got distracted.”
Mike grinned. “Then go get distracted upstairs. Pete and the boys are killin’ it tonight.”
Burke grabbed his beer and climbed. Fairy lights and summer air wrapped the rooftop in a soft glow. Spotting Darcy near the bar, half-hidden behind a taller man, he called:
“Darcy! Didn’t expect to see you here.”
Her head turned, eyes lighting. “Oh—hi, Sheriff!”
“Burke,” he corrected, the grin tugging slow.
She laughed. “Right. I’m great—how about you?”
“What are you drinking?”
“A Cosmo would be amazing.”
“That’s doable.” He waved the bartender over. “One Cosmo for the lady.” When it arrived, he handed it to her with mock ceremony.
“Thanks,” she said, smiling as their glasses clinked.
For a heartbeat, her fingers brushed his. Warm. Barely there—but enough to make him want to feel it again.
From the far corner, Scout leaned on the railing, sipping a beer. He caught Burke’s eye, arched a brow, and headed downstairs with a grin that said don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. Burke rolled his eyes, amused.
They’d barely started talking when Darcy’s gaze slid past him. A tall man stood near the rail—broad-shouldered, mid-forties, a faint scar cutting through his beard, a faded Denver Broncos cap pulled low. His stare locked on her, unblinking.
A chill rippled through her, fingers tightening around her glass until the cold bit at her skin. Who was that—and why was he staring?
“You okay?” Burke asked quietly.
“Yeah. Fine.” Too quick.
She forced a smile, but unease shot through her.
The band launched into Sweet Home Alabama, and the crowd roared. Burke leaned closer so she could hear him. “How are you liking Sylva?”
She smiled faintly, fingers tracing the rim of her glass. “More than I expected. I’m even thinking of finding a place to rent. The camper’s starting to feel a little small.”
“That’s great,” he said. “Lou can help with that—her daughter Kayla’s a realtor.”
“I’ll have to ask,” she said softly. Her eyes met his, and she shifted. Something warm and uncertain sparked between them before she looked away.
After a moment of quiet, Burke said softly, “You look beautiful tonight.”
Darcy laughed under her breath, realizing he meant it. “Thank you.”
The compliment hung there, quiet but electric.
By her third Cosmo, she groaned. “I should’ve eaten first—I’m a lightweight.”
Burke caught Cassie’s eye. “She’s hungry,” Burke said.“Can we get a table downstairs?”
He reached for her hand as she stood, and a spark shot through her. The main bar was quieter now, lamplight pooling over the worn wood and the glow of Main Street beyond the windows.
As they sat, Burke asked, “So, how was lunch with Emma?”
A flicker of something—fear, maybe—passed through her eyes. It was gone in an instant, but he caught it.
He wanted to ask why, to understand why his great-aunt had been on her mind at all. But the look she gave him—guarded, uncertain—made him ease off.
“I just remembered you said you were meeting her at the courthouse,” he added quickly.
She relaxed. “It was lovely.”
Then her gaze shifted—the man from upstairs. Same flannel, same unblinking stare, that scar. Her chest tightened. Who is he? Could he be watching me? Reporting back to Jason?
They shared appetizers, but Burke kept glancing toward the stranger. He was about to suggest a walk when raised voices erupted. One man swung, sending another crashing into a table.
Burke was already moving. He caught Danny Hurst by the collar, yanking him back before he could swing again. The other lunged, and Burke blocked the blow with a sharp, practiced motion.
“You got your one punch,” he said evenly. “Next stop’s jail—for both of you.”
The man who’d been hit clutched his chin, wincing. “Ahhh, Sheriff—just let me hit him once more!”
Burke shot him a look that said, ‘Don’t even think about it,’ then turned toward the bar. He caught Mike Stevens’s eye and sliced his hand across his throat. Mike nodded and killed the taps. The music faded, conversation stuttered, and in seconds the place went silent.
It lasted seconds. Darcy watched as Burke restored order without raising his voice—steady, composed, quietly in control. There was nothing showy about it, but he looked good doing it. Too good. The thought unsettled her more than she wanted to admit.
Burke steered both men to the door, his authority absolute. When he turned back, the bar was already calm.
“Sorry about that,” he said.
“It’s okay.”
“How about that walk?”
She hesitated, eyes flicking toward the bar. The stranger was gone. She took Burke’s hand.
Darcy
They walked down Main Street, past glowing windows and the hum of laughter. Music spilled into the night—fiddles and guitars weaving through the air. For the first time in months, Darcy felt the faint outline of normal, though fear lingered just behind it.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Burke asked.
After a beat, she managed a faint smile. “I think it’s time I head back.”
“Let me drive. You’ve had a few drinks.”
“Burke, really—I can drive. It’s not far.”
He lifted a brow. “Up a mountain highway? Fifteen minutes of curves, in the dark? Humor me.”
His voice was low, warm as bourbon, the kind that found its way under her skin.
Color crept into her cheeks. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have had so many drinks.”
He opened the truck door for her, and when she stepped up, their hands brushed again—warm, sure. The spark wasn’t an accident this time.
They talked lightly on the drive back—about the campground, about finding a place to rent. His laugh filled the cab, easy and rich, the kind that made her forget she was supposed to be careful.
When he pulled into Moonshine Creek, he climbed out, circled to her side, and opened the door. As she stepped down, her foot caught. Strong arms steadied her instantly. For a breathless moment, their eyes met.
The air shifted. Time slowed. He leaned in just enough to give her the choice to move away. She didn’t. His lips brushed hers—soft, then firmer, lingering just long enough to make her forget the past and remember what it felt like to be wanted.
When they parted, she stood there, dazed by the surge of emotion.
“Goodnight,” he said quietly. “I’ll pick you up at ten to get your Jeep.”
She nodded, watching him until his taillights disappeared.
Inside, she leaned against the door, the faint trace of Burke’s cologne clinging to her skin, the tingle of his lips refusing to fade.
She knew this couldn’t go anywhere—she was married, hiding under a name that wasn’t hers.
Getting involved with a sheriff was madness.
It had to end before it began. Tomorrow, she would put a stop to this.
Yet as her fingers brushed the place his mouth had been, she couldn’t stop the thought that slipped through—what it might be like to love a man who made her feel safe instead of claimed.