Page 77 of Deputy Brand Gets Her Man
Jeremiah leaned down and whispered near her ear. “You want to get out of here?”
“I do,” she said. “And while I’d prefer you throw me over your shoulder and carry me out to your Jeep, I think the better part of discretion is to leave separately.”
He rasped his whiskers across her ear, and she melted and cussed under her breath. “Your place or mine?” he asked.
“Mine. My folks had to leave town, so it’ll be private.”
“I got a better idea.” He slid his phone from his pocket and texted her an address. “Wait for me, there, okay?”
She lowered her chin as she read the message. “I’m sheriff. I can’t be going on private property?—”
“Now, Sheriff, you just told me I’m a good guy. Did you mean it?”
She blinked, and erased the doubt from her eyes, even though a tiny bit remained in her heart. “Okay, I’ll wait for you there.”
He smiled softly. Though her trust was real, she doubted that he believed that. She was still nervous as she punched the address into her GPS and drove back toward Quinn, and then through it. She took the opportunity to drop the SUV back at the sheriff’s department and pick up her truck.
Her GPS took her through town, out toward the ranch, and up Oak Ridge Road, then off a private dirt road that didn’t get much use, going by the grass growing up the middle.
Eventually the GPS told her she had reached her destination.
Willow looked around. It was dark outside, but her headlights picked out a driveway, and when she turned into it, the numbers on a log cabin lit up. Yes, this was the place.
She parked her truck, shut it off but left the headlights on and got out to the sound of rushing water. Hell, the creek ran right behind the house.
She lit up her phone and trudged around behind the modest cabin toward the creek. It wasn’t far to its pebbly shore. The water bent inward, then out again, as if pointing toward the little cabin on its bank, and when she turned to look back, she saw tall windows, and deck facing her. It had two rocking chairs on it and seemed to be a visual invitation. The place was like a Kincaid painting.
She hiked back up to the cabin, walked onto the porch, and cupping her hands around the windows, peeked inside. No furniture. No curtains in the windows. The place was vacant.
Still, somebody must own it.
She tried the sliding door and found it locked, as expected. Around her, the woods were alive with the whir of bugs and the occasional cries of night birds. Whatever they were, they would call three times, like a mewling cat, then three more, and three more still, each time from a different source. Then they’d go quiet for a while.
The air smelled like sage and creek water, fresh and spicy-sweet. It felt ten degrees cooler than anywhere else tonight.
The right side had four windows. Through them she could see a big open space, a kitchen and a loft with two rooms. At the front, she crossed another open porch to the front door, and found herself standing on a welcome mat.
“You don’t suppose…” She stepped off the mat, and crouched to lift it up.
A shiny key lay underneath.
She picked it up and slid it into the lock. Then she hesitated to turn it.
“Okay, Gringo. I’m trusting you. You cost me my badge, I swear to God…” She turned the key, then opened the door went inside, tried the light switch, but nothing happened beyond an ineffective click click.
The main room was wide, with a fireplace and large windows overlooking the creek in back and the woods on one side. The counter had stools, and the kitchen had white cabinets.
There was a vase on that counter with a white rose in it, and a card.
She went over to it, shamelessly opening it up, jumping to romantic conclusions.
Congratulations, Jeremiah. I think you and Beans will be very happy here.
Cat Shaw
He bought a freakin’ house.
Willow wrapped her mind around that bit of new information slowly. That meant Jeremiah was staying in Quinn.
