Page 56 of The Woman Left Behind

She shot a smile to him but moved right to his dogs. He knew she knew animals when she did it slowly, crouching a little and offering a hand low that they could smell.

Once they all got in a good sniff, he called, “Alright,” and all three dogs got up and bounded around her.

He heard her laugh as she made her way to Harry at the same time giving pets to his dogs when they were within touching distance.

Harry stood at the top of the steps, with only enough space for her to wedge herself in front of him when she arrived.

This meant her smile was even bigger when she got to him.

He glanced at the bottle.

It was Jameson.

He raised his brows at her.

“Ronetta knows Sean Stoll’s mom. She did the sleuth work for me,” she explained.

Sean was one of his deputies.

“I didn’t bring you anything when I came to yours for dinner,” he pointed out.

“You don’t live next to Ronnie. If she knew I came to your house without a host’s gift, she might take me off her Christmas list.”

Harry smiled.

Lillian returned the smile.

That was when Harry took the bottle from her, and then he kissed her.

The dogs milled around them as they did what they seemed to always do when they kissed, losing themselves to it, to each other, the world abating, it was just them, Harry and Lillian, in a universe that actually worked, and all of the shit of it just faded away.

And every time, the hunger deepened.

So now, it almost seemed desperate how greedy he was for her smell, her taste, her tits pressed to his chest, the feel of her fingers in his hair, and as ever, she gave as good as she got, communicating how voracious she was for what she could get from him.

This meant Harry had to stop it.

They weren’t going there until after they had answers about her parents.

He was not going to be that guy.

So, no matter how hard it was, he stopped it, touched the tip of her nose with his and whispered, “Let’s get you inside.”

She looked a mix of disappointed and hazy, both of which he liked, but she nodded.

He took her hand and led her in.

He didn’t plan on being curious about what she thought about his house, but he found himself watching her as he led her into the front room.

And he then found himself shocked when her eyes lit with pleasure.

He looked to the living room, one his parents had gotten to before his mom got sick.

Huge sectional. Stone walls. Big media center. Terracotta tile floors, Native woven rugs. Rustic wood coffee and end tables.

“Okay, if you told a Hollywood set designer, ‘Design a living room for a hot guy rural Washington State sheriff,’ they’d design this,” she declared, recapturing his attention. “It’s perfect. I love it. And I really have to teach you how to chill out. This is chillout central.”

Harry turned back to the living room, suddenly seeing it differently.

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