CHAPTER ONE
Sunday
Brock stepped out of his truck and let the scent of fresh-cut grass fill his lungs. Being home in Louisiana still felt like a miracle most days, and seventy-degree weather in winter wasn’t anything he was ever going to take for granted again.
Another thing to appreciate was the fact that New Year’s Day wasn’t half over and he’d already managed to haul in a man that he’d been tailing for weeks. The son of a bitch had committed enough felonies to ensure he’d never see the outside of a jail cell again. It was a damn good way to start off the new year. As he ambled across the parking lot, he caught sight of his childhood friend. What in the hell was Lilly Bertrand doing at the Lafayette Sheriff’s Station?
Lifting his hand, he waved and watched a huge smile cross her face. God damn, she was appealing. Always had been, always would be. He’d noticed it the summer she turned fifteen, and he’d been trying to ignore it ever since. “Hey, Lilly. What are you doing down here?”
“Looking for Pete. I’m on a deadline and I need to figure out a new way to choke a man to death.”
Normally a statement like that would be cause for concern, but with Lilly, it was pretty much par for the course. “Darlin’, I’ll help you. I just need to sign off on a report and then I’m free.” When she looked up at him with her inviting whiskey eyes, he realized that the excuses he’d been feeding himself were no longer working. Truth be told, they hadn’t for a very long time. Lilly had always been his kryptonite, and he wondered why he bothered fighting it anymore. He’d been back home for a year, and he was tired of pretending that he didn’t want to tangle himself up with her in a hundred different ways.
“Brock Landry, why are you offering to help?” Placing her hand on his forehead, she frowned. “No fever.” Leaning back, she inspected his face. “You don’t look like you’re drunk, but that doesn’t always mean a thing.” Shrugging, she shifted her purse. “Must be about to die. Clearly, this is a last-ditch effort to save your soul from eternal damnation.” A snort and then a snicker, and she was off to the races laughing her head off.
Watching her giggle reminded him of the girl he’d grown up with. She’d always laughed at her own dumb jokes, which often caused those around her to join in. Before too long, people would be laughing, and they had no idea why. “You need my help or what?”
Pushing her hand into his shoulder, she grinned. “I always could get you riled up. It’s satisfying to see my powers haven’t diminished over the years.”
“I’m a thirty-year-old man, and nothing you do riles me in the least.” Just to prove his point, he grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the door of the station. “Come in and have a cup of horrible coffee while I finish my report, and then I’m all yours.” The fact that her small hand fit perfectly in his was something he’d always noticed. Along with the scent of flowers that surrounded her, the silky wave of hair that brushed against his arm, and the lips that begged to be ravaged.
“I appreciate it, Brock. I also need some information about what happens when someone commits multiple felonies.”
Skidding to a stop, he turned around and laughed. “Not many people have the guts to ask that question inside the sheriff’s station. Is this for your book or for your own personal information?”
“If I say my book, will you believe me?”
“Maybe.” Taking a step closer, he raised an eyebrow. “The fact that you’ve been talking about wanting Drew dead from one end of town to other might make it difficult, though.”
“You heard about that, did you?” Looking down, she picked at a loose string on her T-shirt. “Drew and Tina are on my last nerve, and the only peace I can find is plotting their deaths. It’s cheap therapy and not something I’m likely to give up soon.”
Sliding his hand along her cheek, he lifted her chin. “As long as it’s just talk, then it’s fine. The moment it becomes something else, give me a call. I’m going to need more than a day or two to get your bail together.”
Leaning her head against his hand, she let out a small sigh. “You’re a good friend. I can’t tell if all of this is killing me or making me stronger.”
The second her cheek rested against his hand, he wondered why he even bothered fighting destiny. Clearing his throat, he moved his hand away and shoved it into his pocket. “Go on to the kitchen and grab a cup of coffee, and I’ll come find you when I’m done.”
“If I wasn’t on a deadline, then I would just wait for Pete. I appreciate you taking the time to help me out.”
“No problem.” He walked toward his desk and realized that New Year’s Day might be the perfect time to quit resisting the desire that had plagued him since he was a teenager. As he collapsed into his chair, he felt like a thousand-pound gorilla had just crawled off his shoulders. It seemed acceptance might be the answer he’d been searching for.
***
Flipping through her notebook, Lilly devoured an Almond Joy. When she hit the fifty-thousand-word mark, she always felt the same: like everything she’d written was total crap. Twenty books and it never went away.
The next chapter in her current manuscript was crucial, and she needed something new to keep her readers engaged. She’d been killing off people for fifteen books, and she’d run out of ideas. Looking down the hall, she spotted Brock leaning back in his chair with the phone glued to his ear. He was perfection with his broad shoulders, long legs, and slate-gray eyes that reminded her of the midwinter sky. Too bad he was annoying, self-righteous, and completely immune to her. It had been true from the moment they met, and it was true to this day.
Turning back to her notes, she focused on the information she needed. When he’d offered to help, it about made her choke. If they spent any amount of time together, they ended up bickering. It had started when they were kids, and they’d never managed to stop. They acted like siblings locked into a fuss they’d long forgotten the reason for.
Maybe his offer had something to do with a misguided New Year’s resolution about being kind. Pushing her hair over her shoulder, she tried to come up with a list of the bare minimum she needed to finish the chapter. Tangling with Brock wasn’t how she wanted to start off her new year. After all, the way you spent the first day often indicated how the rest of the year would go.
The sound of her phone jangling pulled her out of her thoughts. Digging it out, she saw that it was Pete. “Hey, can you meet me at the house? Great.”
Saved! She didn’t have to rely on Brock for help. Every time she’d done it in the past, it was accompanied by a big lecture. Something she definitely wanted to avoid. Gathering her papers, she shoved them into her bag and sang a silent hallelujah.
Striding to Brock’s desk, she stood in front of him and made hand motions that indicated she was heading out. He was deep into a conversation, and she figured that she could make it out of the station without him making a big deal. She turned, walked quickly out of the room, and was almost out the door when she heard her name being called. “Ignore it,” she instructed herself. “Just pretend you can’t hear.” Adopting a speed-walker gait, she was almost to her car when she felt a large hand on her arm. “Drats,” she said quietly.
“What?” Brock barked loudly.