Page 8 of Return to Laurel Valley

The way someone lived spoke a lot about a person. Blaze’s house was sparse—only a couch and a flat-screen TV on the wall in the living room. There were no pictures or other collectible-type things sitting around. Her own apartment looked much the same way, but mostly because she was never there and hadn’t even unpacked all of the boxes that were still in storage. She wondered what Blaze’s excuse was because he obviously spent time here.

The appliances in the kitchen were clean and well used. There was food in the refrigerator—not TV dinners and other various dips that most bachelors would have—but real food that made up ingredients for recipes. It was obvious the man cooked, but that made sense considering his mother was a well-known chef. She wanted to dig deeper—to learn more about the man he was. But she wouldn’t lower herself to snooping past what was right in front of her eyes.

She’d bitten off more than she could chew with Blaze, she thought, searching through cabinets in the kitchen until she found what she needed for the coffee. She’d hurt him by leaving. But she’d had no choice. She’d had a responsibility to bring her brother back so he could face the consequences of his actions.

And maybe one of the reasons she hadn’t come back was she was afraid to let Blaze know too much of her. That if she let him get too close he’d know her secrets and her shame. They had a lot to learn about each other. What if she let herself fall in love with him and then he ended up not liking the person she was? A person who could stand by helplessly as three people died around her. A coward who couldn’t pick up her badge and gun again to protect and serve.

Lily waited impatiently for the coffee, glancing at the clock above the microwave to see it wasn’t quite dawn yet, and still Blaze wasn’t back from wherever he’d gone. She looked outside again, hoping the rain had magically stopped while the coffee had been brewing, but no such luck.

It mattered not. She’d wait a couple hours, gather a few supplies, and then set out to find Jackson Coltraine. He was still recovering from whatever illness he’d picked up, so he’d be weak, unable to move as quickly or adapt in harder conditions. He’d be looking for a place he could lie low for a while until the rain passed and he could recoup some of his strength. She only hoped he decided not to endanger any of the citizens of Laurel Valley. Coltraine was dangerous and desperate—two things that made for a deadly combination.

The coffee trickled into the pot, and she finally lost patience and stuck her cup beneath the drip. She took the first scalding sip, feeling the blood start to move through her veins, and then she took it with her to the shower.

The bathroom was as clean and sparse as the rest of the place—white towels and washrags stacked in the cabinet above the toilet and a white shower curtain. And she noticed he’d picked up the damp towels from their earlier shower. Army habits died hard. Despite the tattoos and the streak of rebellion in Blaze to forge his own path and work the job however he saw fit, he was still a product of structure and order.

She turned on the water and then stripped out of Blaze’s shirt and got in, taking her coffee with her and enjoying the dual stimulation to get her brain back in working order.

She knew the moment he stepped into the bathroom. Her senses were too honed for her to not recognize the change in the air. But she also recognized that it was him. Her head dipped back under the spray, rinsing the remaining shampoo away, and then she pulled the curtain back.

“Good grief. What happened to you?” she asked, her eyes widening at the sight of him.

He’d stripped out of his shirt and had dropped it in a sopping heap on the floor. Despite the protection of the shirt, his chest and arms were covered in streaks of mud. So was his face. Black stubble whiskered his cheeks, but splatters of brown covered the left side of his face all the way to his hairline.

“I had to track down the truck from the electric company. They’d taken a wrong turn and had to abandon their truck because the water was rising too fast. So I had to unhook the boat and go get them. I gave them a ride so they could take care of the power lines before anyone got hurt. It’s as bad as I’ve ever seen out there. The people without generators are going to be without electricity for a few days.”

He worked at the buckle of his belt, but the leather had gone stiff and was crusted with mud, so it wasn’t easy to get off. Lily leaned down and turned the water a little hotter because his lips were blue and his teeth chattered. He finally got the belt loosened.

The fact that he’d left the dirty clothes on the floor was a telling sign of how exhausted he must be.

“Hand me a towel and I’ll get out and toss your clothes in the washer,” she told him.

“Thanks. Though I wouldn’t mind your company. I’ll let you scrub my back,” he said.

It would’ve been a more effective offer if he hadn’t been asleep on his feet.

“You’ve got another thing coming if you think the sight of you covered in mud and God knows what else is going to get me in the shower with you.”

“I’m not sure I’d have the strength to do anything but drop you, so I think you’re probably safe.”

“And the romance is dead,” she grinned. “I’ve always heard that about marriage.”

“Wait until you meet my parents. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve come around a corner and seen things I shouldn’t have seen. I’m lucky I’m not scarred for life.”

She stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around her, and then moved out of the way so he could step in. He hissed as the hot water hit his skin.

“Your parents,” she said, the thought of meeting them making her blood run cold. She sat down on the toilet seat and put her head in her hands.

“Yeah,” he said, seemingly unbothered. “It’ll be nice to finally tell them we’re married. Then my mom and sister can stop trying to set me up on dates.”

Her head snapped up at that and she arched a brow. “And have you been on many? Dates, that is.”

He grinned as he scrubbed all the mud from his body. “Jealousy becomes you, darling. And no, in my family married men don’t date.”

“How mad are they going to be?”

“Not even a little,” he said. “Believe me, they’ll be so happy I’m not going to grow old to be a crusty bachelor that they won’t care we kept it a secret.”

“You never told anyone?”

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