Chapter 26
Sloane’s radio went off just as Lucky taught them how to put the bit in the horse’s mouth.
“What’s your 10-20, Officer McBride?” Connie knew what her location was. Sloane had been talking about the cowboy camp all day.
“I’m at Lucky’s,” she said, not bothering to hold back her annoyance.
“We need you to go to 1240 Pine Cone Lane for a house call.”
A house call? What the hell was Connie talking about?
“I don’t copy you.”
“The chief says when you get there to stand by. That’s a direct order.”
“Ten-four.” What the . . . Couldn’t they send Jake, who was already on patrol? Unless something big was going down. Then, of course, Sloane didn’t want to miss it.
“Hey, guys, I just got called out,” she said to her group now huddled around Lucky’s daughter, Katie, who was demonstrating how to put a saddle on the horse.
“I’ll make sure they get home safely,” Lucky said. “Do what you got to do.”
Sloane headed to her SUV. She didn’t even know where Pine Cone Lane was, and turned on her GPS. It seemed to be taking her on a circuitous route away from town, past McCreedy Road, to Sierra Heights. Sierra Heights? Nothing ever happened there. She drove through the gate, following the GPS’s instructions, wondering if she was lost. Now wouldn’t that be embarrassing?
“You have arrived at your location,” the disembodied GPS voice said. The location happened to be the clubhouse and pro shop parking lot in the planned community.
Ah hell, this couldn’t be right. Just to make sure, she hopped out of her truck and followed the flagstone path past the clubhouse, the pool, and tennis courts to catch an address. Sure enough, she stood on Pine Cone Lane. Tracing the addresses she found 1240—the model she and Brady had liked so much. The one he didn’t want to live in with her.
Stand by, Connie had told her. Impatient, she radioed back. “I’m here. What am I supposed to do?”
“The chief says to go inside but stand down. This is not an emergency. I repeat: This is not an emergency.”
Sloane signed off and cursed. What was it then, a freaking scavenger hunt? She went inside. It was still a breathtaking house with its soaring ceilings, huge picture windows, and polished hardwood floors, but quiet as a library. And a bit unnerving. Despite the chief’s command to stand down, Sloane’s hand automatically reached inside her purse for the butt of her gun.
“Anyone here?” she called, and the words echoed through the big space. “Hello?”
She walked through the front room, down the long dining room, and into the kitchen. A giant bouquet of red roses had been arranged in a crystal vase on the counter. Next to it was a champagne bucket, filled with ice and a bottle of bubbly. Two glasses stood at the ready.
Someone in the corner cleared his throat. Sloane jerked up and did a double take.
“What is this?”
“Crappy champagne because it was all I could find at the Nugget Market on short notice.”
She wouldn’t know the difference between André and Dom Pérignon. “Brady?”
“Sloane?” He came for her, grabbed her around the waist, and pulled her close. “Change of plans.”
“What’s that?”
“I’m staying, I’m buying this house, and I’d appreciate it if you’d at least allow me to make the loft my man cave before you fill the rest of the place with your frilly, floral stuff.” His lips were so close to her ear it tickled.
“You can’t afford this house.”
“Says who?”
She pushed away to read his face. “What’s going on, Brady?”
“Today . . . maybe yesterday . . . hell, I don’t know when. Maybe I knew all along that I couldn’t live without you . . . that if I ran away, I’d regret it for the rest of my life. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Be with me, Sloane. Make a life with me and I promise to love you forever.”
Sloane choked on a sob. “I love you, Brady Benson. So if you’re messing with me, I swear I’ll shoot you. Don’t test me.”
He kissed her, bent her over the miles of granite countertop, and continued to kiss her into sheer oblivion. “This is the only kind of messing with you I want to do.” His hand went for the zipper on her jeans.
“Wait a minute. Are we really buying this house?”
“If you want it, I’ll buy it. I’ve been saving forever for a restaurant, which I’ll use for the down payment. With my new job as executive chef of Breyer Hotels, we should have no problem making the mortgage. What do you think?”
“Executive chef of Breyer Hotels.” Her eyes grew big. “You’ve been busy. When did this happen?”
His hand reached for her zipper again. “I’ll tell you all about it as soon as we’re done initiating these countertops. One question first: Will you have me?”
Sloane stifled a sob. “That was never in doubt.”