More Than A Lawman. Anna J. Stewart

he’d learned to ride a bike with, the teen he’d competed with for dates. The young man who had devoted his life to Eden after their parents’ deaths in the car crash that had nearly killed Eden, as well. Cole had found his own way to grieve, to get through, to move on. But Eden?

      Cole’s fists clenched as if he could fight her ghosts and his own. He knew Eden considered death her personal nemesis.

      The sound of a drawer being yanked open in the kitchen drew him through the living room that housed a meager DIY couch, a small flat-screen TV and an antique Tiffany-style lamp that looked oddly out of place. Half a dozen cardboard boxes sat wedged against walls, some opened, most with a thin layer of dust on top. Boxes that he knew for a fact hadn’t shifted an inch since she’d moved in.

      When he rounded the corner into the kitchen, he found Eden with her head in the freezer. “What are you doing?” He stepped forward and grabbed her arm to yank her back. “If this is some half-baked plan to try to remember what happened to you...” He trailed off, suitably silenced by the sight of the spoon in her mouth and the pint of ice cream in her hand. “Really?”

      She popped the spoon free, the irritation and defiance in her eyes an oddly attractive combination. “He almost made me hate ice cream.” Eden took another huge bite before she sucked in a breath and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Nobody makes me hate ice cream. Ah! Ice-cream headache!” She bounced on her toes and replaced the lid. Aiming her spoon at him like a gun, she then quickly dropped it into the dishwasher.

      Cole tossed his keys onto the counter and pushed her aside to open the fridge. “You need to eat.”

      “What I need is to get back to work.” Her gaze skittered toward the padlocked door in the small alcove. “Besides, you brought me a bagel at the hospital, remember?”

      “You ate half a bagel, and you need protein, preferably with some iron for all that blood you lost.” He bit his tongue and put his frustration into something productive. He dug around until he found eggs, spinach and a good-sized chunk of cheese. At least she hadn’t forgotten to shop for groceries. “You’re not working until tomorrow. Now sit.”

      “I’m not entirely sure I like you right now, Cole.” She surprised him by doing as he ordered and hopped onto one of the two stools on the other side of the breakfast bar. “I’m supposed to be the bossy one, remember?”

      The fact she was still as pale as a hundred-year-old ghost no doubt meant she had the energy of a flea, but Cole wasn’t about to challenge her on that. As much as he hated to admit it, he needed her fighting spirit back, if for no other reason than to convince him she’d be ready for anything.

      Having a serial killer on her trail would be enough to keep him awake for the near future. He’d already spent most of the morning distracted by worrying about her. The fact that Simone had texted him almost as soon as he’d left the hospital to let him know she’d stay until he returned had eased his mind temporarily. Hip-hip hooray.

      “You’d best get used to it.” Cole shrugged out of his jacket and draped it over one of the kitchen chairs piled high with files and photos. “You’re stuck with me for the foreseeable future.”

      “Won’t that cut into your personal time?” Eden surprised him yet again by reaching for one of the bananas in the bowl, then snapped it open. “What’s the latest one’s name again? Tiffany? No, Tawny. Thelma?”

      “Thandie.” Cole cringed as he rolled up his sleeves. “And there hasn’t been any personal time for a few months.”

      “Huh.” Eden broke off a chunk of banana and swallowed it. “Maybe it would help if you didn’t live somewhere that required a life vest.”

      Cole cracked eggs into a bowl and heated up the only pan she owned. “Don’t go dissing my boat.” Refurbishing the 1960s gentleman’s river cruiser had kept him sane the last few years. “And that’s big talk from a woman who hasn’t unpacked in, what?” He stepped back from the counter and gestured at the boxes in the living room. “Just how long has it been since you moved in?”

      “Three years.” Eden shrugged. “I’ve had other things on my mind. Besides, I unpacked the essentials.”

      “So if I were to head upstairs to your bedroom, I wouldn’t find your clothes tossed over unopened boxes or piled up in the corner?”

      Another shrug, but this time her gaze skittered from his. “Don’t criticize my organizational style, Cole. It works for me.”

      He dumped the eggs and spinach in the pan and went to work on the cheese. “Home should be a respite, Eden. A place to escape.”

      “Given my front door may as well have a giant bull’s-eye painted on it, I think we can agree that’s no longer an option.” She got up and opened the hand-carved bread box on the counter—a Christmas gift from him years before—and pulled out a loaf of sliced sourdough. She dropped a couple of pieces into the toaster. “So what’s the plan? You moving in?” She leaned her arms on the counter and watched him stir the eggs. “If so, my guest room will need some, um, fixing up.”

      When he glanced at her she grinned and batted her lashes at him.

      “Don’t do that, Eden.” Cole shook his head and switched off the stove to let the residual heat finish the eggs.

      “Don’t do what?”

      “Pretend as if what happened last night didn’t scare you.” It sure had scared him, and Cole didn’t scare easily. “It’s me, remember? I can read you like a book. You’re spooked, which means you’re doing what you always do when you get scared. You deflect with humor and sarcasm, and when that doesn’t work, you’ll start insulting me and anyone else who tries to help you just to drive us away.”

      She inclined her head, her thick sandy-blond hair falling around her shoulders in a way that shouldn’t tempt him as much as it did. Intense blue eyes sparked like the center of pure fire, where the oxygen barely kissed the air. “What kind of book am I?”

      The kind he couldn’t put down. The kind that kept him up nights. The kind he shouldn’t be reading. He pulled the pan off the heat and faced her, moving in so she was forced to straighten and step back. For an instant, he found himself at the warehouse again, looking down at her on that frozen floor. It had been the longest moment of his life, waiting for her chest to rise, and when it did, he’d almost wept.

      Now here she was, standing in front of him, defiance personified, licking her full lips and forcing herself to meet his gaze as he took one more step closer.

      “Cole.” She pressed a hand against his chest, the warmth of her touch seeping through his shirt and reminding him that she, that he, was still very much alive. “What’re you doing?”

      “Not sure I know.” But he wanted to find out. He’d almost lost her, almost lost this chance with her he’d been thinking about for so long... He skimmed his fingers over the bandage on her wrists, unable to erase the image of the chains that had been there.

      Cole lifted his hand, cupped her chin in his palm and leaned down, his eyes scanning her face as she searched his, confusion marring her brow as he dipped his head, and after he heard a soft sigh escape her mouth, he kissed her.

      Fire and spice. The heat of her, the feel of her mouth touching his was everything he’d have thought it would be, if he’d let himself dwell on it long enough. She didn’t shrink from him, didn’t withdraw. Instead she ran her hand up his arm until her fingers gripped his shoulder, kneading as he deepened the kiss and tasted her.

      The sound that erupted from her throat reminded him of a cat on the prowl, hunting, claiming, and as his lips teased hers, for that moment, everything he had to worry about faded.

      “Cole,” she murmured against his mouth when he raised his head.

      “Hmm?” He pressed his forehead against hers, closed his eyes and held on to the feeling for as long as he could.

      “Thank you for saving