GRIFFIN

The ice-cold beer bottle had barely skimmed my lips when the doorbell rang.

“Christ,” I grumbled. “Now what?”

It had been a hell of a long day and I wasn’t in the mood for visitors. But it was probably an employee—the members of my family didn’t know how to ring doorbells—so ignoring my guest wasn’t an option.

With my beer bottle in hand, I padded down the hallway to the door in my bare feet. If I was lucky, a rare occurrence, I wouldn’t have to put my boots back on for whatever this visit entailed.

There were times when it would be nice to put some space between home and work. To live off the ranch where I wasn’t as easily accessible— to the staff or my family. But there wasn’t a place on earth I’d rather be than on this ranch. Even when people showed up at my doorstep unannounced.

I pulled the door open, expecting, well . . . anyone else besides Winslow.

Her eyes, the color of ripe blueberries, seemed bluer in the fading evening light. One look at her beautiful face, and for a moment, I forgot to breathe.

“Hi,” she said.

I tipped the bottle to my lips. Then I chugged.

Drinking seemed necessary around this woman.

Probably not a brilliant decision considering alcohol was the reason I’d gotten into this mess with her in the first place, but one look at those eyes and that silky hair and my cock twitched beneath my jeans.

Why the fuck couldn’t I control myself around her?

Her pretty gaze narrowed as I gulped half my beer. “Thirsty?” I forced the bottle away from my lips. “Something like that.”

There was no need to ask her how she knew where I lived. Not only could she look it up in her database at the station, but anyone in Quincy could give her directions. Hell, three minutes on Main and she’d likely bump into a relative. Finding an Eden in this town was about as easy as looking for leaves on a tree in June.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

“You never answered my questions on Wednesday.”

Wednesday. A day I would like to forget. I’d been in a shit mood for the past two days. I’d barked at everyone the way I’d barked at her at the scene. In my defense, that had been the second time I’d found a dead woman on my property.

“So you came to my house?”

“Would you have come down to the station if I’d asked?” “No.”

“That’s what I figured.” She raised her chin, her feet planted firm. Winn wasn’t going to leave until I talked to her, and this time, I couldn’t exactly walk away.

I sighed and stood aside, jerking my chin for her to come inside.

She stepped past me and her sweet citrus scent wrapped around me like a vine.

My body reacted instantly, tightening in all the wrong places. I took another pull from my beer. The only rational explanation for this infuriating

desire had to be lust. I’d gone too long without sex, and now I was acting like a randy teenager.

Lust. Definitely lust.

And those freckles on her nose. Goddamn it, they did it for me. I was too busy to be studying her freckles.

“Did you know who I was?” I blurted. “Pardon?”

“At Willie’s. Did you know who I was?”

“No. You said you came through town. I assumed you didn’t live here.” “You said Bozeman. I thought you were a tourist.”

“You really didn’t know who I was?”

“I wouldn’t have fucked you in my truck had I known. As a general rule, I don’t do hookups with locals. Gets messy when women realize I’m not interested in a relationship. I’m too busy.”

“Ah. Then you’re in luck because I have no desire for a relationship.

And as far as I’m concerned, it never happened.”

Like fuck it had never happened. That night was burned into my brain. But if she wanted to pretend it hadn’t happened, that was fine by me. No one in Quincy needed to know I’d given the chief of police three orgasms.

“Back to the reason for my visit. I’d like to know more about that road to Indigo Ridge.” She was all business tonight, her shoulders square and her expression stoic. Just like it had been Wednesday. Not a ghost of her mesmerizing smile graced her soft lips.

Probably safest that way. “Want a beer?” “No, thanks.”

“On duty?”

“That’s why I’m here.”

I finished my bottle, making her stand there and watch, then I retreated to the kitchen for beer number two. Maybe two Bud Lights would dull my senses enough so I wouldn’t have a raging erection while she was in my

house. At the moment, my dick was ready to say fuck it and carry her to my bedroom.

We hadn’t had a lot of room to maneuver in the backseat of my truck.

On a king-sized mattress, Winn and I could have some fun.

Jesus. I scrubbed a hand over my face as I opened the refrigerator. What was wrong with me?

Winn was here to talk about a dead girl, and I was thinking of sex. The mental image of Lily Green’s smashed body was sobering, and I closed the fridge, forgoing the beer.

“Did you talk to Lily’s mother?”

“I did.” A wave of sadness broke her neutral composure. “It didn’t take long to confirm Lily’s identity through fingerprints. I spoke to her mother on Wednesday evening.”

“Have you ever done that before? Notified a parent that their child was dead?”

She gave me a single nod. “It’s the worst part of this job.” “Sorry.”

“My mentor at the Bozeman PD used to tell me that it was our duty and our responsibility to ease the burden any way we could. That we never know how we’ll change the lives we touch with this job. He once had to tell a woman that her husband had been killed in a liquor store robbery. Years later, he bumped into her. They started dating and they’re married now. He’d always remind me that even the dark days pass. That we heal from our losses. I don’t know if that’s true when you lose a child. But I hope, for Lily’s mother’s sake, that in time, she finds comfort. And I hope that I was able to soften the blow, as much as that was possible.”

I studied her as she spoke, gentle honesty and vulnerability in her words. If she’d spoken to Lily’s mother like this, with such truth and compassion, then yes, she’d softened that blow. As much as that was possible.

The news of Lily’s suicide had traveled quickly through Quincy, as expected. I’d gone into town this morning to place a classified at the paper and the Nelsens had been buzzing with the news. No doubt it would be next week’s headline. Emily had fished for more information and, when I’d stayed quiet, had made a not-so-subtle offer to trade sex for secrets.

I’d decided to post my help-wanted ad online instead of in the paper.

Emily had been a one-night mistake last year. A mistake I was still paying for.

I hoped Winslow wouldn’t turn out to be the same. “Was there a note?” I asked. “From Lily?”

She ignored my questions and asked one of her own. “Can you tell me more about the road to Indigo Ridge?”

“It’s a gravel road. There’s not much else to tell.”

“There’s a trail going up the ridge. I walked it yesterday. How often do you or staff members of your ranch use it?”

“Why does it matter?”

“Because this is an ongoing investigation.” “Into a suicide.”

“Into a young woman’s death.” She spoke like Lily could have been murdered.

“Don’t drag this out looking for something that’s not there. You’ll only make it worse.”

Her fists clenched. “I’m asking questions because I owe it to that girl and to her mother to do my job.”

“Your answers would have come with a suicide note.” Winn didn’t even blink.

“So there was no note.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “I stopped by your parents’ place before coming here. Your dad said you’ve taken over management of the ranch. I’d prefer to talk with you because he said you were the one who’d

know most of the day-to-day routines. But if I should head back there and ask them these questions—”

“No.” Damn it. This was not a topic I’d put on Dad.

The first suicide off Indigo Ridge had been years ago. He’d found the body and taken it really hard. To this day, he avoided that road at all costs. I wouldn’t make him relive that, even if it meant reliving it myself. “Let’s talk in the living room.”

My house wasn’t nearly as big as my parents’ six-thousand-square-foot home, but half that size suited me just fine. The open concept and vaulted ceilings gave my rancher character and an open feel. With three bedrooms and an office, it was plenty for me. I didn’t have six kids to wrangle, unlike Mom and Dad, who’d needed to add on twice to fit us all.

I walked to the couch and took a seat as Winslow went to the opposite side of the coffee table, sinking into a leather chair.

She glanced at the framed photo on the end table. “Your siblings?”

“All six of us. I’m the oldest. Then Knox. Lyla and Talia, the twins.

Then there’s Eloise, who manages the inn.”

“Pops introduced me to her after lunch on Monday.”

That awful, tense lunch. “Mateo is the youngest. He’s working here on the ranch and at the inn until he decides what he wants to do.”

He’d probably take over a family business or start one of his own. That’s what the rest of us had done. My parents had instilled their entrepreneurial spirit in us all. And their love for Quincy.

Each of us had moved away for college. Knox and Talia had stayed away the longest, but eventually, the pull of Quincy and family had brought them home too.

Winslow studied the photo, memorizing our faces. Plenty of people had a hard time telling me and my siblings apart, especially when we’d been young. Our ages were close. Knox and I had the same build, though his tattoos set him apart. The girls were undeniably sisters.

But I suspected Winslow wouldn’t have any trouble recognizing my siblings. She was smart. Focused.

Good qualities in a cop.

“Okay, Chief.” I leaned my elbows onto my knees. “What do you want to know?”

She shifted, retrieving a small notepad and pen from the back pocket of her jeans. It was the same one she’d had on Wednesday. She flipped it open and the ballpoint pen hovered above the paper. “The trail up Indigo Ridge. What’s it used for?”

“Nothing these days. Before we bought the neighboring place, we used that trail to move cattle up the mountain. Even then it was rare. We’d only take it if we were having a drought and were short on grass. There’s a cutoff that winds to the back side of the ridge where we’ve got about two hundred acres.”

Her pen flew over the paper. “I think I saw that cutoff when I was up there.”

“It’s pretty overgrown now. After I bought the neighboring place, it gave us a direct road to the mountain. We haven’t moved cattle on that trail since.” Part of the reason that I’d pushed so hard to buy the neighboring property was because I hated moving cattle up that trail. It was steep and required we go single file, following the cattle by horse.

“I believe I saw that road too. Though road is probably a generous term.

It was more like two tracks through the trees.” “That’s the one.”

“Does anyone go up there? Or is it strictly for cattle?”

“My uncle. He lives there now. After I bought the neighbor’s place, he built a cabin in the mountains. It’s right on the border with the forest service. He’s been there for about a year.”

Her pen scratched on the paper as she made a note. “And would he have recalled seeing anyone coming up or down the trail?”

“No. His place isn’t anywhere near that trail.” And Briggs was struggling when it came to recollection these days.

“Do people come out there to go hiking?”

“Not without permission. And even then, I wouldn’t give it.” Not to Indigo Ridge.

“So no one ever goes out there.”

“Kids sometimes,” I admitted. “Curious kids who know that’s where two girls committed suicide. I caught a group of them last fall. Haven’t seen anyone up there since.”

“Was Lily with that group of kids?” “No, they were younger. In high school.”

Her pen scratched another note. “The medical examiner determined that the time of death was likely late Sunday night, into early Monday morning. Would any of your employees have been in the area at that time? Or perhaps your uncle?”

“You want alibis.”

“Call it alibis if you’d like. I’m trying to determine if anyone would have seen her go up there and if she was really alone. We found her car parked off the highway. From where it was parked to the place where she would have jumped, it’s seven miles. I walked it yesterday, and it took me almost three hours. I’m wondering if someone might have seen her during that time.”

“No one who works for me.”

“If it was at night, she would have had to have a flashlight. We didn’t find one on the trail or by her body. We also didn’t find shoes.”

“What are you getting at?”

“Where are her shoes? If she walked it without them, her feet would have looked like ground meat. Her feet had some scratches but not seven miles’ worth. How did she get up there in the dark? By eleven it’s pitch black.”

“You said the medical examiner suspected it could have been Monday morning.”

“At the very latest. But again, that’s time of death.”

“Maybe she went up during the day. Stayed there for a while. I don’t know.”

Winn flipped to a new sheet on the notepad. “Would anyone have been around early Monday morning to see someone leave the ridge?”

“You think someone went up there with her.” “Possibly.”

“And what? Killed her?” I shook my head and sighed. “It’s a suicide, Chief. Just like the other girls who jumped off that ridge. I don’t know why they did it. My heart aches for their families. But it’s exactly the same as the other two times. I know because I was there for all three.”

She blinked.

“Didn’t know that, did you?” I muttered. “Dad found the first body. I found the second.”

“And now Lily Green.”

I nodded. “It’s awful. Truly awful. What we need are more resources in town for these girls, not to go looking for a killer when there isn’t one. Which you’d understand if you were from here. But you’re not.”

She opened her mouth, then closed it before speaking. Her nostrils flared.

“What?”

“Nothing.” She sat a little straighter. “Is there anything else you can tell me about the other girls?”

“It’ll all be in a report, I’m sure.”

“Yes, I’m sure. But I’m asking anyway.”

“The girl I found was two years ago. She was one of Eloise’s friends. It shook us all up. Eloise knew she was having a hard time but didn’t think it

would go this far.” So now my sister carried that guilt. We all did. “The girl Dad found was five years ago. She’d been friends with Lyla.”

“I’m sorry. That had to be hard on your family.” “It was.”

Winslow closed her notebook, then stood. “Thank you for your time.” “That’s it?”

“For now. I’ll show myself out.” Without another word, she strode out of the living room.

The smart thing to do would be to let her go. Keep some distance. Let her walk out the door while I stayed right here on this couch. But I stood, the manners my mother had ingrained in us from an early age nagging. We escorted guests out and thanked them for stopping by.

I caught up to Winn just as she was about to reach for the handle. I stretched past her, crowding way too close, and opened the door. Another manner. Men held doors for women.

She glanced up at me, her breath catching. Once again, that sweet scent of hers filled my nose. Her mouth parted but otherwise she didn’t move.

An inch, maybe two, separated our bodies. That tiny gap crackled, the electricity between us just as strong as it had been at Willie’s. She was more beautiful than I’d realized sitting in that dark, musty bar.

Winn’s blue eyes broke from mine, and the moment her gaze dropped to my mouth, I was done for.

I leaned closer.

“What are you doing?” she whispered.

“I have no fucking clue.” Then my lips were on hers.

One sweep of my tongue against her lower lip and we weren’t standing by my door. We were at Willie’s, locked in my truck. Our clothes were stripped and strewn on the floor. Our mouths were fused as she straddled my lap.

Days later and I could still feel the way she’d moved over me, rocking her hips up and down and up and down. The fingernail marks she’d left on my shoulders had faded, and damn it, I wanted them back.

I let go of the door to wrap Winn in my arms, pulling her flush against my chest.

She came willingly, her tongue tangling with mine as I savored her sweetness. Her lips were soft, yet frantic. Her hands gripped my T-shirt, balling it in her fists as I slanted my mouth over hers for a deeper dive.

My pulse throbbed in my veins. My arousal was like steel, as hard as the gun holstered on her hip. I was a second away from kicking the door closed and carrying her to my bedroom when the sound of a horse’s whinny broke us apart.

Winslow tore her lips from mine, our breaths mingling. Her eyes widened as she stepped out of my arms.

My chest heaved as I worked to regain my breath, and before the haze of desire had cleared, she was gone. She walked away without a backward glance.

I stood in the threshold, arms crossed over my chest, and watched her climb into her SUV and tear down the gravel road, disappearing into the grove of trees that surrounded my property.

“Shit.” I rubbed her kiss from my lips, then went inside for that second beer.

Anything to get her intoxicating taste off my tongue. The second bottle didn’t work. Neither did the third.