Lucy and The Lieutenant. Helen Lacey

      “You thought I might what?”

      Lucy wanted to turn and run. But she stayed where she was and took a deep breath. “I thought you might be able to help. Or give me a lift home.”

      His brows shot up. “You did?”

      She shrugged. “Well, I know it’s only a few blocks away, but the paths are slippery and the snow doesn’t seem to be easing anytime soon.”

      His gaze flicked upward for a second toward the falling snow and then to her car. “Give me your keys,” he instructed and held out his hand.

      Lucy dropped the keys into his palm and watched as he strode past her and to her car. He was in the car and had the hood up in seconds. Lucy tucked her coat collar around her neck and joined him by the vehicle. He closed the driver’s door and moved around the front, bending over the engine block. Lucy watched, captivated and suddenly breathless over the sheer masculine image he evoked. There was something elementally attractive about him...something heady and fascinating. Being around him felt as decadent as being behind the counter in a candy store. He had a narcotic power that physically affected her from the roots of her hair to the soles of her feet. And she’d never responded to a man in that way before.

      Not even close.

      Sure, she’d crushed on several of the O’Sullivan or Culhane brothers back in high school. But Brant Parker had never been far from her thoughts. Returning to Cedar River had only amplified the feeling over the years. Being around him made her realize how real that attraction still was. She liked him. She wanted him. It was that simple. It was that complicated.

      “Battery’s dead,” he said, closing the hood.

      Lucy smiled. “Well, at least that means I remembered to put gas in the tank.”

      He didn’t respond. He simply looked at her. Deeply. Intently. As if, in that moment, there was nothing else. No one else. Just the two of them, standing in the evening snow, with the streetlight casting shadows across the sidewalk.

      “I’ll take you home,” he said and walked back toward the Loose Moose.

      Lucy followed and stood by the doors. “I’ll wait here if you like.”

      Brant turned and frowned. “I have to get my jacket and keys, and my truck is parked out back. So you might as well come inside.”

      He didn’t sound like he wanted her in his home. In fact, he sounded like it was the last thing he wanted. But, undeterred, she followed him across the threshold and waited as he shut the door.

      “You’ve been busy,” she said as she walked through the room and dropped her bag on the bar. “The renovations are coming along.”

      “That was the idea when I bought the place.”

      Lucy turned and stared at him. He really was a disagreeable ass. She wondered for the thousandth time why she wasted her energy being attracted to him when he made no effort to even be nice to her.

      Not one to back down, she propped her hands on her hips. “You know, I was wondering something... Is it simply me you dislike or people in general?”

      His jaw tightened. Hallelujah. Connection. Something to convince her he wasn’t a cold fish incapable of response. His gaze was unwavering, blistering and so intense she could barely take a breath.

      “I don’t dislike you, Dr. Monero.”

      She shook her head. “My case in point. I’ve asked you half a dozen times to call me Lucy. The very fact you don’t speaks louder than words. I know you can be nice because I’ve seen you with your mom and brother and nieces. At least when we were kids you were mostly civil...but now all I get from you is—”

      “You talk too much.”

      Lucy was silenced immediately. She looked at him and a heavy heat swirled between them. She wasn’t imagining it. It was there...real and palpable. And mutual. As inexperienced as she was, Lucy recognized the awareness that suddenly throbbed between them.

      Attraction. Chemistry. Sex.

      All of the above. All very mutual.

      And she had no real clue what to do about it.

       Chapter Two

      Lucy Monero was a walking, talking temptation. And Brant wanted her. It took all of his willpower to not take her in his arms and kiss her like crazy.

      But he stayed where he was, watching her, noticing how her hair shone from the light beaming from above. Her dazzling green eyes were vivid and suggestive, but also filled with a kind of uncertainty that quickly captivated him. Lucy had a way of stopping him in his tracks with only a look. So he didn’t dare touch her. Didn’t dare kiss her. Didn’t dare talk to her, even though there were times when he thought he’d like nothing else than to listen to her voice or to hear her breathless laughter.

      When they were kids she’d hung around the ranch, often watching him and his brother break and train the horses from the sidelines, her head always tucked into a book. She’d been quiet and reserved back then, not trying to grow up before her time by wearing makeup or trendy clothes. When her dad died, her mom had sold the small ranch and they’d moved into town, so he hadn’t seen her as much. His own dad had died around that time, too, and with twenty-year-old Grady taking over the reins at their family ranch and Brant deciding on a military career midway through senior year, there wasn’t any time to spend thinking about the shy, studious girl who never seemed to be able to meet his gaze.

      Not so now, he thought. She’d grown up and gained a kind of mesmerizing poise along the way. Oh, she’d always been pretty—but now she was beautiful and tempting and had firmly set her sights on what she wanted.

      Which appeared to be him.

      Brant wasn’t egotistical. But he recognized the look in her eyes every time they met. And he wasn’t about to get drawn into anything with Lucy Monero. She was pure hometown. A nice girl who wanted romance, a wedding and a white picket fence. He’d heard enough about it and her virtues from his mom and Brooke. Well, it wasn’t for him. He didn’t do romance. And he wasn’t about to get involved with a woman who had marriage on her mind.

      “You’re staring at me.”

      Her words got his thoughts on track and Brant felt heat quickly creep up his back and neck. His jaw clenched and he straightened his shoulders. “So, I’ll just get my jacket and take you home.”

      “Is everything okay?” she asked quietly.

      “What?”

      She tilted her head a little and regarded him with her usual intensity. “You seem...tense.”

      It irritated him to no end that she could see through him like that. “I’m fine,” he lied.

      Her brows came up. “I’m pretty sure you’re not.”

      “Is there a point you’re trying to make?”

      She shrugged one shoulder. “You know, most times we meet, you barely acknowledge me. At first I thought it was because you were just settling back in to civilian life and that small talk was really not your thing. But then I’ve seen you with your family and you seem relaxed and friendly enough around them. And you were with Liam O’Sullivan earlier and didn’t end up punching him in the face, so that interaction must have turned out okay. So maybe it’s just me.”

      Brant ignored the way his heart thundered behind his ribs. It is you. He wasn’t about to get drawn into her little world. Not now. Not ever. He had too much going on. Too much baggage banging around in his head. Too many memories that could unglue him if he let someone in.

      “Like I said, you talk too much.”

      She laughed, the sound wispy and sort of throaty and so damned sexy it sucked the air from his lungs. He was tempted to take the three steps he needed