No fucking way.
The words registered a split second before Jenna realized they weren’t just in her head. Instead, the sheriff’s voice echoed in her ear, his body pressing her down flat on the floor, hard muscle shielding every dip and curve and …
Wait a second.
No way should she be thinking about his muscles and her curves and … Seriously, someone had just shot at them.
“He’s in there,” came the frantic voice from outside. “He has to be in there. There’s no place else to run…” The words faded into the blare of a siren in the distance. “Shit. Someone called the cops.”
“That was the cops, I’m telling you. It was the sheriff. I saw him plain as day.”
“That don’t make a lick of sense. You can’t see a blasted thing plain as day when it’s full-blown night.”
“I’ve got good vision.”
“All’s you saw was the back of his head.”
“Yeah, well it looked like the back of the sheriff’s head and that there siren’s proof that it was. He ran back to his squad car and now he’s coming for us.”
“Or maybe somebody just called the police because they heard the first round of gunshots a ways back. I told you not to fire.”
“Think what you want. Either way, we need to get while the gettin’s good.”
“That’s the first sensible thing you’ve said all night. We still got work to do.” Footsteps clomped across the back porch and then grew fainter as the two men hit the ground running.
“Wait,” the sheriff murmured in her ear when she started to get up.
“But they’re gone.”
“Maybe, and maybe not. Just give it a second. Just to be sure.”
But it took more than a few seconds for Hunter DeMassi to climb off of her. It was exactly sixty-eight seconds during which Jenna did her damnedest to focus on the echo of her own heartbeat rather than the steady drum of his as he pressed her down.
The rich, intoxicating aroma of clean soap and strong male filled her head and skimmed her senses and she trembled.
“It’s okay,” he murmured, his grip on her tightening as if he mistook the response for fear.
Ah, but it was fear. Of the carnal variety because this was the closest Jenna had been to a member of the opposite sex since she’d sworn off men over three months ago.
Not that three months was a long time. Not for the average female, but Jenna liked men. She enjoyed them. Or she had before she’d sworn off bad boys and given the not-so-bad boys a chance. The sex hadn’t been nearly as satisfying and so, technically, her dry spell had been going on a lot longer than three months.
Try two years.
Twenty-four long, lonely months since she’d had really good sex. Long enough to make any woman a little desperate.
And stupid.
His warm breath brushed the back of her neck and her nipples pebbled in response. A shiver worked its way up her spine. Her thighs clenched.
Even though Hunter DeMassi with his do-right attitude and his conservative looks was far from the thigh-clenching type.
She reminded herself of that all-important fact when he finally pulled her to her feet. A sliver of orange slid past the edge of the drapes that covered a nearby window and sliced across his face, illuminating his features. She found herself staring up into eyes as intoxicating as a shot of her granddad’s favorite blueberry moonshine, and even more potent.
Her stomach hollowed out and her throat tightened.
Hello? It’s Sheriff Hunter DeMassi aka Dudley Do-Right. He walks the straight and narrow. Hell, he is the straight and narrow.
Which meant she shouldn’t be reacting to him at all.
She knew that. At the same time, she couldn’t help but notice the five o’clock shadow covering his jaw and the all-important fact that he wasn’t wearing his uniform. Instead of the blah-blah beige, a soft white cotton T-shirt clung to broad shoulders and heavily muscled arms. A small rip a few inches below his collar gave her a glimpse of dark, silky hair. Faded jeans cupped his crotch and outlined his long legs. Scuffed cowboy boots completed the look and for a split second she forgot this was the same man who sat in the second row at church every Sunday and directed traffic at the senior ladies’ bake sale every other Tuesday.
He looked almost … dangerous.
Heat whispered up her spine and she stiffened.
Dark brows drew together as he eyed her. “You okay?”
“I…” She swallowed against the sudden lump in her throat and forced herself to take a deep breath. “What just happened?”
“I was tracking some suspects and got a little too close. They spotted me and, well, you know the rest.”
“What kind of suspects?”
He eyed her as if deciding just how much to say. “Some bad-ass mothers judging by the look of your door.” He turned then, his long, tanned fingers going to the bullet hole surrounded by splintered wood. “Looks like a three fifty-seven. Maybe a Glock or a Smith and Wesson.” He turned back to her then, a strange light in his eyes. “I didn’t mean to put you at risk by barging in here, but I needed some cover.”
“Better the door than you.”
He grinned then, a slash of white that split the shadows of the room and her breath caught.
Stupid, she reminded herself. Really, really stupid.
“I’d better get some of these lights turned on.” She gave herself a mental shake and turned as he reached for the walkie-talkie stuffed into his back pocket. Static echoed through the room a split second before Hunter started talking in a low monotone that kept her from making out more than a few words.
“A squad car picked up both suspects,” he told her. “Again, I’m really sorry about the door. I’ll get my deputy out here to fix it first thing tomorrow morning.”
“Don’t bother. That door was worn down near the hinges anyway. I’m sure it’ll be the first thing to go when the renovation starts. In the meantime, I’ll just stick some duct tape over the hole and she’s good to go.”
He arched an eyebrow. “You fixing the place up?”
“I’m changing the place up.” She glanced around at the dingy avocado wallpaper and old-fashioned copper Jell-O molds that hung above the faded white cabinets. “A complete one-eighty. By the time I’m finished with it, you won’t recognize it.” Or so she hoped.
“You planning to sell?”
She shook her head. “I just need a change of pace.”
“Is that why you’re quitting your job at the vet clinic?” At her sharp glance, he added, “Hazards of a small town. I sent Matt in to pick up Scooter, he’s our drug dog, and he heard you’re supposed to up and quit.”
That’s what everyone expected her to do. She’d been passed over and humiliated. The old Jenna would have told Doc Morris where to go and how fast to get there.
Which is exactly why she’d bit her tongue and said nothing.
She wasn’t going to tell him what a mistake he was making. Rather, she was going to show him.
By doing the right thing, being the right thing. For the first time in her life.
“I’m not quitting. It’s just that there aren’t any good equine facilities around, so I thought I’d revamp things here, add an extra barn, and the capacity to house horses. Then I’ll be in a better position to help with the larger animals.” Morris had her making house calls, but with her own facility, she could actually house the animals on the property and up their level of care. It was a fact he wouldn’t be able to argue with or deny. There might be those who didn’t want the likes of a Tucker on their property, but if she were in a position to provide the best care, well, even those stubborn Sawyers wouldn’t be able to argue with that.
Speaking of the Sawyers …
Her gaze shifted to Hunter. While he didn’t carry the name, he was still a Sawyer through and through. A direct descendant of Elijah Sawyer via his Mimi, Elijah’s youngest daughter and Hunter’s great-grandmother.
Clara Bell Sawyer was the only one of Elijah’s offspring still alive. At ninety-four, she was one of the town’s oldest citizens and the star of this year’s pancake breakfast sponsored by the Rebel Rotary Club.
Hunter looked every bit a Sawyer with his dark hair and good looks. Only his eyes gave any clue that he was part DeMassi. They were a brighter shade of blue fringed in thick, dark lashes. The kind of eyes that sparkled and heated a woman from the inside out.
The last thought struck and she let loose a shaky breath. “I’m not quitting,” she said again. “Just making some major changes.”
“That’s good.”
“Let’s hope.” The words were out before she could stop them. He slid her a questioning expression before static shattered the sudden quiet and his attention shifted to the walkie-talkie.
“You want me to wait on you?” came the familiar male voice.
“Negative,” Hunter said. “Take them to the station. I’ll be right behind you. Again, I’m really sorry,” he told her, his gaze catching and holding hers. “I’d really like to stop by tomorrow, if you don’t mind.”
“I … Listen, I know there’s this vibe between us, but…”
“To take one more look around.” The words faded into a small grin that sent a burst of warmth through her. “To see if James Harlin left anything lying around. Before the rafters come down.”
“Oh, um, yeah. Sure. I’ll be home tomorrow evening. Anytime after six. Unless we get an emergency call.”
“Of course.”
“But I might not be the one sent out. There’s another vet at the clinic,” she added. Okay, so she was running off at the mouth, telling Hunter DeMassi about the new vet and the very fact that she wasn’t Dr. Morris’s right hand anymore. “He’s new. Dr. Morris just hired him because we’ve got a really busy workload.”
“I can imagine.”
“Not that I can’t handle lots of work. I love being busy.” She caught the next sentence before it could spill over and drew a deep breath. “I’m sorry. That’s probably way too much information.”
“It’s fine.” A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth and her stomach hollowed out. “I’ll see you tomorrow night barring no emergencies.”
“Sure.”
Oh, boy.
She drew another deep breath and concentrated on closing the door behind him. So what if he was stopping by tomorrow night? It’s not like he was coming to see her. He was still investigating her grandfather’s death.
It was business. Strictly business.
She knew the feeling. She had plenty of her own to tend to. She eyed the boxes sitting here and there and reached for the nearest one.
A few minutes later, she was tossing more magazines onto the fire and praying for even the slightest breeze.
It was definitely going to be one long, hot night.