Vance had me pinned against the shower wall. Steam billowed around us, and a drop of water clung to his lower lip as he pounded inside me, his breathing as ragged as my own.
My hands gripped his shoulders, holding tight. The harder I dug in my nails, the harder he fucked me.
“Oh, God.” Every muscle in my body shook as my orgasm rushed toward me like an avalanche. My hands clung to his shoulders, my nails like claws in his slippery skin.
“Lyla.” The way he moaned my name sent a shiver down my spine. It was erotic. Desperate. He was close, on the verge of his own release, but wouldn’t dare stop until I came first.
His strong hands cupped my ass, holding me in place. He squeezed, his fingertips digging into my flesh, and that little bit of pain was the trigger.
“Vance.” I shattered into a thousand pieces as he roared my name.
My body pulsed around his length. White stars consumed my vision.
He poured inside me, a string of incoherent sounds escaping his throat.
My heart thundered as I came down from the orgasm, my arms and legs wrapped so tightly around him he’d have to pry me loose. Not that he seemed in any hurry to let me go.
His large body enveloped mine as his arms snaked around my waist, his forehead falling forward to the tile at my back. Vance kept me trapped against the wall until the water changed from hot to lukewarm.
It was four o’clock in the morning, and I’d be late getting to the coffee shop. I’d just finished rinsing out my hair when the shower door had opened and Vance had stepped inside.
His days of staying in bed while I slipped out before dawn were over. Something had shifted in the past four days, ever since that night at the stables.
Sex with Vance had always been powerful, but now, there was an edge. This frantic desire. It was like we both knew time was running out, so neither of us squandered a chance to be together.
He eased away, dropping a kiss to my pulse as he set me on my feet. Then he pushed the wet hair away from my temples, holding my face in his hands as his eyes searched mine.
This was new too. He stared at me like he was trying to memorize every detail. My eyes. My nose. My lips. Standing still, letting his gaze rake over my features as I tried to hide the sorrow in my heart, was torture.
“I’m going to be late for work.”
He sighed, taking one last long look, then nodded and let me go.
I slipped out of the shower, toweling off as the scent of his shampoo filled the bathroom.
This weekend, he’d shown up with his suitcase from the hotel. His reservation had ended. Rather than extend it, he’d just brought his belongings here.
I stared at his toothbrush in the holder beside mine. At the leather toiletry case on the counter next to the sink. There was a razor inside that he clearly hadn’t touched in weeks. Not that I minded. I loved Vance’s beard and how thick it felt beneath my fingertips.
What would he look like without it?
I’d never know.
My heart twisted. Vance would live forever in my memory exactly as he was today.
Another woman would get to watch him age. She’d get to witness gray thread his dark, chocolate hair. She’d get to see the laugh lines at the sides of his mouth deepen over the next decade. She’d get to sleep on his broad chest and make him coffee in the morning.
The idea of coffee snapped me out of my thoughts, and I hurried through the rest of my morning routine.
When Vance came out of the shower, he wrapped a towel around his waist and dragged his hands through his damp hair. Then he wiped his palm across the steamy mirror. Droplets raced down its surface, and when I returned home tonight, I’d have to use glass cleaner to erase the streaks.
Another woman would get to complain about the streaks. Maybe she’d try to break him of that habit.
“Lyla.”
I jumped, tearing my eyes away from the mirror. “Yeah?”
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” I forced a smile, then leaned in to swipe on a coat of mascara. “Will you come in to the shop when you get back to town?”
“Yeah.”
“Be safe.” I kissed the center of his chest, then left the bathroom for my adjoining closet.
Dressed in a pair of jeans and a soft crewneck, I stopped in the kitchen to turn on the coffee pot for Vance. Then I snagged my keys and hustled to the garage, driving across town and parking in my usual space in the alley behind the shop.
Every day, it was harder and harder to come to work. Vance didn’t need me tagging along in the mountains as a distraction while he was searching, but the hours spent at Eden Coffee were hours I could have spent with him.
I stepped out of the car, my foot landing on the damp gravel. I dodged a puddle on the way to the coffee shop’s door.
The snow from Friday had melted. Thank God. When I’d woken up on Saturday to see the ground covered in white, I’d cried in the shower before Vance had joined me.
Of course, the one year when I desperately needed a long, extended fall, winter’s icy breath was cascading down my neck. But the weather had warmed enough to turn snow into slush.
The first couple of hours were quiet, like usual, so I spent them in the kitchen, baking whatever suited my fancy.
Today’s choices were blueberry scones and chocolate croissants. Partially because Vance loved them. Partially because the dark, almost black chocolate suited my mood.
With the baking and breakfast prep finished, I went about my normal tasks to open the shop. I made lattes and cappuccinos for the regular customers who came in each morning. I warmed breakfast burritos and served yogurt parfaits. I dished cinnamon rolls and wild huckleberry muffins, all with an unwavering smile.
I’d just finished wiping down a table when Winn walked in.
She was dressed in a pair of dark-wash jeans and a white button-down shirt. She had on a black blazer today, its length mostly concealing her badge and gun.
“Hi.” I gave her a quick hug before I went behind the counter, making her a latte. “Want breakfast?”
“Pops said you had chocolate croissants.”
“I do.” I laughed.
Winn’s grandfather was the reason I had to save three croissants for Vance in the back. Covie would tell anyone he saw today that I had croissants. He was retired now, but when he’d been the mayor, I’d have sold out within an hour. Today, they might last until noon.
“I’m also here on official business,” Winn said as I handed over her coffee and pastry.
I swallowed a groan. “Okay?”
“Can we talk in the kitchen?”
“Um, sure.” I scanned the space, making sure the few people at tables were taken care of for now, then headed for the back. “What’s up?”
“When I got to the station this morning, I had a message from an FBI agent. He was returning a call I made last week.”
My pulse quickened. Was it a good thing for Vance if the FBI was now involved? Or a bad thing? “Okay,” I drawled.
“The agent I spoke to is assigned the Cormac Gallagher case. I told him about you and that I have reason to believe Cormac is who attacked you.”
“And did you tell him about Vance?”
“No.” Winn shook her head. “Vance has enough problems with his superiors since the shooting. I didn’t want him to catch any flack for being here. As far as I’m concerned, he’s in Montana on vacation and doing a lot of hiking.”
Shooting. What shooting? What was Winn talking about? Vance hadn’t mentioned a shooting.
“I’ll call Vance later,” Winn said, sipping her coffee. “I assume he’s out in the mountains today.”
I managed a nod, still trying to slow my mind from spinning. What shooting?
“I called the FBI because it’s their case. If this really is Cormac Gallagher, then it’s federal. They have jurisdiction.”
“So does that mean they’re coming here?”
“No.” She shook her head. “The agent assured me that if it was Cormac—I’m not sure he actually believed me—he’d be long gone from Quincy by now. That without a trail or lead, there’d be nothing to find. The agent was, um . . . not exactly happy that I hadn’t notified them immediately after the incident at the river.”
I scoffed. “We didn’t even know who he was at that point. We might never have known if not for Vance.”
“Well, the agent made it clear that the reason Cormac was still at-large was because of me and the shortcomings of the local authorities.”
“That’s not fair.”
Her shoulders fell. “Maybe. But I’m sorry we didn’t find him.”
“It’s not your fault. You tried.”
“Maybe we should have tried harder.”
“Even then. I don’t think it would have mattered.” It was the harsh reality I didn’t want to face.
Cormac was gone.
He’d left this area after the river, taking with him not only my chance for justice, but Vance’s chance for closure.
“He’s gone, isn’t he? Cormac?” I couldn’t ask Vance. I wouldn’t make him answer.
“Most likely.”
“Is that why you let Vance keep searching?”
“Yes and no. Given his experience, if there was something to find, he would have been the one to find it. But I also think he needed this search to take his mind off everything else.”
The shooting?
“After something so awful, sometimes, you just need to remember why you’re a cop.” Winn’s gaze was unfocused as she stared at an invisible spot on the floor. “To do something good. I wasn’t going to take that from him.”
For that, I would always be grateful. “I love you, Winn.”
“I love you, Lyla.” Her eyes softened. “You’re falling for Vance, aren’t you?”
There was no point in lying, but I was going to dodge. “He’s leaving.”
Maybe another friend, another sister, would have urged me to ask him to stay. Maybe suggested we try long distance. But Winn simply gave me a hug, whispering, “I’m sorry,” before she slipped out of the kitchen and returned to work at the station.
The moment she was gone, I took my phone from my pocket and typed in a search.
vance sutter shooting
But before I could add idaho to the criteria, my fingers stopped. I stared at the screen for a long moment, then deleted everything and returned the phone to my jeans.
There was a reason Vance changed the subject so often. There was a reason he’d avoided telling me about his job or his family.
He didn’t want me to know.
I wasn’t his girlfriend.
I was simply his escape.
Why was I always the person in a relationship who fell too far? Who cared too much? Who forgot the rules?
Who let her heart lead the way?
I didn’t regret it. Not a minute. Not with Vance.
Maybe that would come, after he left Quincy. But for today, if he needed an escape, I’d be that refuge. So I squared my shoulders, shoved my curiosity down deep and returned to the counter to smile and serve my customers.
Vance came in around four, dressed like he was most days in Carhartt pants and a long-sleeved thermal layered beneath that thick flannel coat. Both his beanie and gloves were stuffed in the coat’s pockets.
What kind of clothes did he wear in the summers? During his next trip to the barber, how short would he cut his hair? Besides fuck a woman senseless, what did he do for fun?
What shooting?
Questions I didn’t ask.
“Hey, Blue.”
“Hi.” Did all his lovers get nicknames? Or just me? “Did you talk to Winn?”
He sighed. “Yeah. Got her message. Called her on the drive back. Can’t say I’m surprised or disappointed. It’s better this way.”
“How was it? Find anything?”
“Cold. And no.”
No. He used to say not yet.
I swallowed my disappointment. “Coffee?”
“Yeah. That would be great.”
“I’ll bring it over.”
“Thanks.” He dipped his chin, then turned, heading for his regular seat.
That chair was his. The table too, but mostly that chair. For the rest of my days, I wouldn’t be able to look in that corner and not think of Vance.
Would he remember me too?
Of all the questions floating in my head, that one terrified me the most. So instead of wondering, I filled a cup of coffee. I plated a chocolate croissant.
And when I took them both to Vance, I reminded myself of the simple truth.
He was all but gone.
