Coming Home To Crimson. Michelle Major

mountain Mayberry.”

      “I’m not Andy Griffith,” Cole argued, annoyed by the implied comparison.

      “If you start whistling—”

      He leaned in and kissed her, somehow wanting to prove that he wasn’t the easygoing, small-town lawman she presumed him to be. At least that’s the reason he gave himself. The truth was he couldn’t resist her one more second. Her smart mouth and sassy attitude. All the ways she tried to pretend she wasn’t hurting.

      The fact that he recognized the loneliness in her gaze because he saw the same thing in his own eyes every time he looked in the mirror.

      She stilled for a moment, then sighed and sank into the kiss. It wasn’t the reaction he’d expected and the surprise of it made his body burn. He’d figured she would snap at him or give him a swift punch to the gut. But she seemed to need the touch as much as he did.

      He moved closer, still touching her with only his mouth, but close enough that he could feel her heat. Her mouth was soft under his, sweet and pliant. She made another sound, a soft moan, and swayed closer. Cole reached out a hand and gently gripped the graceful column of her neck.

      The contact was enough to break the spell between them. Sienna stepped back, away from his grasp, her fingertips pressing against her swollen lips.

      “Why did you do that?” She seemed more confused than angry, which was a small victory in Cole’s mind.

      “I needed to know if your mouth was as soft as it looks.”

      She gathered her long blond hair and flipped it over her shoulder, rolling her eyes at him. “I don’t think I’ve ever been described as soft.”

      “You’re soft,” he assured her. “At least when you’re not being disagreeable and argumentative.”

      “I don’t argue and I can be agreeable when I want to.” She no longer looked dazed. Instead the spark had returned to her gaze. He liked it there. “I don’t need to prove anything to anyone.”

      He shrugged. “Except maybe yourself.”

      “You shouldn’t kiss me again.”

      “Do you want to argue about it?”

      She narrowed her eyes. “Good night, Sheriff.”

      “Call me Cole,” he said, unable to stop himself from making the request.

      She stared at him so long he wasn’t sure she’d answer, then whispered, “Good night, Cole,” and turned for the house.

      He watched her walk away until the front door clicked shut behind her. Crickets chirped from the bushes and an owl in a tree at the edge of the forest gave a mournful hoot.

      Cole had come to Colorado as an escape, running from the scandal and tragedy that surrounded his parents’ deaths.

      He’d found refuge in small-town life and in serving and protecting the people who made this town their home. But he wasn’t a part of the fabric of Crimson’s community in the same way as Jase. Growing up an army brat, Cole had become an expert at making connections without truly allowing himself to bond to anyone or anything. Hell, he’d never even owned a dog, which was practically a requirement in Colorado.

      Sienna made him feel different. Maybe because she was also so obviously alone. He could allow himself this connection with her—but whether it was real or imagined he couldn’t quite say.

      Did it really matter? Cole knew that along with emotional ties came the very real possibility of someone getting hurt. He’d had a ringside seat to watch his mom unravel after his father’s death until her heart had literally given out. He didn’t want any part of that kind of pain, either for himself or anyone around him.

      Marlene down at the department liked to tease him about the parade of women who made excuses to stop in. But Cole wasn’t interested in getting close to a woman, even to an almost irresistible blonde who took his breath away every time he looked at her.

      At least that’s what he tried to convince himself of as he climbed in his truck and drove through the quiet streets of the town he’d made his home. Attraction was one thing, but he wouldn’t let it go any further.