Crimson River (The Edens)

A rush of nerves hit as I opened the coffee shop’s door.

Fuck, but I hoped last night with Lyla hadn’t been a mistake.

The door’s bell jingled. The warmth of the room seeped through my damp coat. The comforting, sweet scents filled my nose and made my stomach growl. The granola bar I’d scarfed on the drive to town hadn’t been enough to satisfy my hunger.

Behind the counter, Lyla’s gaze flicked my direction. She wore a smile. It didn’t drop when she saw me. It didn’t widen either. It was just . . . her pretty smile. A kind smile for a customer or a friend. It was the same smile she’d given me before last night.

Sex was always more complicated than casual, at least in my experience. No matter how many times a woman said she didn’t need a commitment—hell, even if I made a commitment—she usually ended up hurt.

For her sake, I hoped Lyla would prove to be the exception. The sex had been. Hands down, last night had been the best time I’d ever had with a woman. Maybe we’d be able to keep having a good time while I was here. That smile of hers gave me hope.

The breath lodged in my throat loosened, working free as I crossed the room.

She picked up a white ceramic mug, filling it with black coffee. “You look like you could use this.”

“Yeah.” I nodded, taking the mug as she handed it over and letting my hands soak in its heat.

I’d had another long day in the mountains getting rained on. The chill that had settled deep in my bones would only go away after a hot shower. Though the steaming coffee would help. I took a sip, letting it warm my insides.

“Thanks, Blue.”

Lyla’s head cocked to the side. “Blue?”

I winked.

“Oh.” Her cheeks flushed. And those striking blue eyes—eyes worthy of a nickname—sparkled. “Hungry?”

“Starved.”

“What would you like?”

I took another sip of coffee. “Surprise me.”

“All right.” She smiled, wider this time.

I fought the urge to reach for her, to kiss her like I’d done before she’d slipped out of my hotel room this morning.

It had taken an effort to focus while I’d been out hiking today. Too often I’d let myself picture her face, imagine those eyes darkening while I moved inside her. At one point, I’d tripped on a stick because I’d been too busy picturing her dripping wet in my shower.

This woman was enchanting, the chemistry between us palpable. Never in my life had a woman’s body come alive under my touch like Lyla’s. She’d pulsed and clenched around my cock like a fucking vise, and I’d practically blacked out from the pleasure.

My pulse quickened, my dick stirring behind my zipper.

Lyla pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, her gaze dropping like she’d been thinking about last night too. After a quick, sexy clear of her throat, she went to work on my surprise, spinning away to grab a plate and open the display case.

I retreated to my regular table beside the window, glad to see it empty, and set my backpack on the floor. With my coat hanging on the back of a spare chair, I took my seat and sipped my coffee until Lyla appeared with a plate in one hand and a coffee pot in the other.

Today she’d brought me a grilled chicken sandwich with some sort of pesto. Beside it was a brownie with fudge frosting.

My mouth watered. For the food. For the woman.

She topped off my mug. “Anything else?”

“No, this is great. Thanks.”

“Sure.” She glanced over her shoulder, checking to make sure no one was paying us any attention. “You were out today.”

“I was.”

“Anything?”

I shook my head, hating the flash of disappointment in her gaze. One day, I wanted to give her a different report. But my search in the mountains had been fruitless.

Cormac wasn’t going to make this easy. The motherfucker.

“Flag me down if you want another refill,” Lyla said, then returned to the counter.

A strange feeling pinched as she left. I didn’t like that she seemed so . . . normal.

The last thing I needed was a clingy woman. Other than orgasms, I had very little to offer Lyla. She seemed perfectly happy to have casual sex and not discuss it the next day.

This was exactly what I wanted. So why did it bother me so much to see her walk away?

You’re losing it, Sutter.

I shook the feeling away and dove into my meal, inhaling the food. I was draining the last dregs of my coffee when the shop’s door opened and Winslow Eden walked inside, carrying a cute little girl. Her daughter?

The girl had dark hair, like her mother’s, and it was curled into wisps beside her ears. She was cute as a button and couldn’t have been much older than one. When Winslow set her down to walk, it took a moment for the girl to get her balance.

“Emma!” Lyla darted around the counter.

The girl gave Lyla a drooly smile as she took off, trying to run. She stumbled, falling forward, but caught herself and pushed back up right before Lyla swept her into a hug.

“How’s my girl?” Lyla kissed her cheek.

“Fussy,” Winn answered. “She’s getting a new tooth. Griff took Hudson to do a few things on the ranch after lunch, so we decided to come to town for a treat.”

“How about a brownie?” Lyla tickled Emma’s side. “And a triple-shot latte for your mom?”

“Yes, please.” Winn yawned, following Lyla to the counter.

Emma toddled around, leaving fingerprints on the display case, while Winn and Lyla talked. I was too far away to make out their conversation, but Lyla was in the middle of making the latte when her expression hardened.

Winn must have given her an update on the case. Likely, no update at all.

Lyla nodded, forcing a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. Then she finished with the coffee and put half a brownie on a plate.

The three of them sat together at a table, the women watching as Emma made a mess with her treat. Then after cleaning up her daughter’s chocolatey face, Winn hugged Lyla goodbye and headed for the door.

I pretended to be intrigued by the blank screen on my phone until she was out the door.

When I looked for Lyla, she was already walking my direction.

“You okay?” I asked.

She lifted a shoulder and pulled out the chair across from mine, slumping into the seat. “I asked if she’d heard anything and she said no. It’s what I expected.”

Expected, but still disappointing. How much longer did I have until she felt disappointed in my visits too?

“Winn said they’re just keeping a close watch around town,” Lyla murmured, her voice low. “And you said there was no reason for him to come to town.”

“Not likely.”

She turned her gaze to the glass, giving me a moment to study that beautiful profile. I’d done the same last night, in the muted light of midnight. I’d lain at her side and traced the line of her face, from her smooth forehead, down the straight bridge of her nose, over those soft lips to her graceful chin, then down the column of her slender neck.

The scarf she wore today was hunter green. It would look great on the floor of my hotel room. So would her black Eden Coffee T-shirt and those fitted jeans. Heat washed through my veins.

“How did he get his scar?” Her question might as well have been a bucket of ice water dumped over my head.

The more she wanted to know about Cormac, the more it opened me up to questions that I couldn’t—wouldn’t—answer.

“Was it from his wife? The night he, um . . .” Strangled her. “Did she fight back?”

I wished I could tell her yes. But the truth was, given that there hadn’t been any evidence of a struggle, it was assumed that Cormac had taken Norah off guard. That she’d been as shocked at his actions as everyone else.

Maybe she’d tried to fight back, but he’d been too big, too strong. Her blood toxicity report had shown she’d been drinking, probably a few glasses of wine with dinner. She’d likely been too shocked and muddled to respond, and for him to choke her to death would only have taken mere seconds.

“He got the scar from a car accident.” Of Lyla’s questions, this one seemed to be the easiest to answer. “He was in his twenties, I believe. He was out running one day through a neighborhood. There was a kid playing basketball in his driveway. The ball got away from him and rolled into the street. The kid chased after it, not seeing there was an oncoming car. Cormac was close. Saw what was about to happen. Ran into the street and managed to shove the kid out of the way. Earned that scar when the car’s bumper hit him instead.”

“Oh.” Lyla’s eyebrows came together, confusion contorting her face. “That’s not at all what I was expecting you to say.”

“Yeah.”

She probably thought I’d tell her a story about a hardened criminal in a knife fight.

It was hard to reconcile a hero and a villain who shared the same scarred face.

Lyla shook the confusion away, then shifted her attention to my empty plate. She stood quickly, collecting it and my wadded-up napkin. “Can I bring you more coffee?”

“No, thanks. I’ll probably take off.”

“Okay.” She gave me a nod, then headed for the opposite end of the coffee shop.

Once again, walking away like I was just any other patron, not the man who’d fucked her four times last night.

Another day, I’d sit here and study my maps. I’d mark out the country that I’d traversed today and chart tomorrow’s plan.

But at the moment, her normalcy was digging beneath my skin. So I collected my things and slipped out the coffee shop’s door, making my way to where I’d parked my truck outside the hotel.

Instead of going inside and taking a hot shower, I climbed behind the wheel and drove down Main, following the road as it turned into the highway that led out of town.

I’d told Lyla that Cormac wouldn’t come to Quincy. I still doubted he’d show his face in any town, though especially the closest one to where his encounter with her had occurred. But I wanted a better idea of the area, so I drove to the neighboring town, fifty miles away.

It was no more than a blip with a few businesses, including a gas station, bar and small hotel. It was the kind of place where Cormac and that scar would stand out like a neon sign. Not a place he’d go unless it was an emergency.

The biggest town in the area was Missoula, but it was hours away by car. Days on foot. Maybe he’d hiked the backcountry to get to that larger town. Maybe not.

Where was he? Where would he go?

I had no idea why, but my gut told me to stick to Quincy. So I turned around and headed back, bypassing the hotel once more to stop at the grocery store.

My stash of breakfast and hiking snacks was dwindling. So I walked through the store’s double doors, tugged a basket from the stack and wandered down the aisles. I was studying my options for protein bars when a woman passed the end of the aisle.

She disappeared with a flash of red hair.

My heartbeat stuttered. My muscles tensed. The response was involuntary.

Red hair reminded me of Cormac. Of the girls. In my mind, I knew there was no possible way he was in this grocery store. That one of the girls was out shopping for ice cream or Lucky Charms.

Still, part of me wanted to follow that woman. See her face. Rule it out. Wouldn’t be the first time I’d followed a redheaded stranger.

But it was just red hair.

I dragged a hand over my face, shaking it off. How many years would it take before I could see a redhead and not do a double take?

If I didn’t find Cormac, maybe forever.

He was the ghost haunting my everyday life. He was the past I couldn’t let go. Until he was found, there’d be no peace.

So I grabbed five boxes of granola bars, enough to last me this week, and returned to the hotel.

My shower was long and hot. I let the steam work the tension from my shoulders and thighs. I’d covered some rough terrain today that would have been steep on a good day, but with all the rain, it had been slippery, adding to the challenge.

My energy was waning, but if Lyla came over, I’d find a second wind.

By the time I finally shut off the water, my skin was raw and red. I stood at the sink, my ears trained for the door, hoping for a repeat of last night. For Lyla’s soft knock. But there were no sounds beyond this room, so I dried my hair with the towel and tugged on a pair of sweats.

With nothing else to do, I grabbed the TV remote, about to turn on a game or something.

And there it was.

The knock.

My dick swelled as I crossed the room, not bothering to check the peephole as I whipped open the door.

Lyla stood in the hallway, out of breath. Her cheeks were flushed like she’d just raced up the stairs. It was a Sunday. Eloise and Jasper hadn’t been here today, but Lyla had still likely tried to escape notice from the front desk clerk.

“The coffee shop is closed,” she said. “I don’t want to go home.”

“Then don’t.” I opened the door wider.

She stepped inside. “I—”

I sealed my lips over hers, stopping whatever it was she was going to say. My tongue stroked the seam of her lips, savoring her sweet taste.

She parted for me and I swept her inside, devouring every inch of her mouth. Then I did exactly as I’d planned earlier. I took off her scarf and dropped it on my floor.

Her hands trailed up my chest, her nails digging into my flesh. This woman liked to leave her mark, and I fucking loved it. If she came at me with her nails like she had last night, my shoulders would be shredded by morning. I didn’t give a damn.

I stripped her out of her clothes while she shoved my sweats off my hips. Then I picked her up and pinned her against the closest wall. “Are you wet for me?”

“Yes,” she panted as I licked her throat. Her legs wrapped around my waist.

I pressed against her center, feeling that slick heat against the crown of my cock. Another night, I would have tasted her sweet pussy, but I was too impatient. So I lined up with her entrance and thrust home. “Fuck.”

“Vance.” With one arm, she clung to my shoulders as she stretched around my length. Her other hand dove into my hair, her short nails scraping my scalp and tugging at the roots. “Fuck me.”

“Say please.”

Her head lolled to the side, her eyelids fluttering closed. “Please fuck me.”

I pulled out and slammed inside. Hard.

Lyla cried out, her inner walls already beginning to pulse.

“Give me that blue.”

It took her a moment but I waited, buried to the hilt, until she opened her eyes, locking them with mine.

I kept her firmly against the wall, holding her jeweled gaze as I fucked her. Stroke after stroke, I lost myself in her lithe body.

“Oh God.” She came faster than I’d expected, a gasp escaping her lips like it had surprised us both. The grip on my hair tightened and there was a real chance she’d have a clump torn from my scalp by the time we were done.

I savored the sting, the pain, and kept driving into her tight heat as she pulsed around my shaft. That delicious squeeze triggered the build at the base of my spine. Then I was coming on a roar.

“Fuck, Blue.” My release quaked through my bones. My vision blanked, and all I felt was her.

When I finally came down, Lyla had collapsed against my shoulder, her body still pulsing around me as she clung to my frame, boneless.

I peeled her off the wall and carried her to bed, ripping the covers back and setting her on the sheets. Then I went to the bathroom for a warm cloth to clean her up.

Her eyes opened as I pressed the washcloth between her legs. “You make me forget.”

“You make me forget too.”

Forgetting wasn’t an option, not with what I’d come to Quincy to do. But that didn’t stop me from hitting the lights and climbing into bed.

Or from spending the rest of the night making sure we both forgot.