Chapter One
“Damn, you shot the sheriff.”
Tristan Church glared at his brother while considering putting his ass on the ground. For one, stating the obvious while Tristan tried to convince himself that he was having a nightmare. That he had not, in fact, shot the sheriff. For another, he seriously wanted to wipe that smirk off his brother’s face.
But he’d have to take Kade down some other time. At the moment, he had to accept that he wasn’t in the middle of a nightmare, that he actually had shot the sheriff. He was never going to hear the end of it. Even his dog was giving him the side-eye. Fuzz cozied up to the sheriff as if too embarrassed by his person to be seen with him. Traitor.
“The hell, Chief. You shot me,” Sheriff Skylar Morgan yelled, glaring at him as red paint dripped down her arm. “You can’t tell the difference between me and the bad guy? You have your eyes checked lately?”
He narrowed said eyes. “I had the bank robber in my sights, Sheriff. You jumped in front of him.” Skye was the bane of his existence. She was their county sheriff, and he was the city police chief. They bashed heads over everything, mostly because she was more stubborn than Old Man Earl’s goat. He wanted her out of his life, and he wanted to lock his lips on hers and kiss that sass right out of her mouth. He wasn’t sure which he wanted more, but he was sure about one thing. He’d go to his grave before admitting he liked her sass.
“If a hostage jumps in front of the bad guy, you gonna shoot him, too?” She poked a finger into his chest, leaving a red fingerprint on his T-shirt.
She had him there, and that chafed. He leaned down, putting his face inches from hers. “No, I only like shooting sheriffs.”
And as hard as he’d tried to forget he knew her intimately, knew her soft sighs and the feel of her fingernails scraping down his back, he hadn’t been able to. A year later, he still had erotic dreams of her. Not as many as he used to, but they still happened. He shook his head to rid it of images of a naked Skye under him.
“Let’s try this again,” Kade said, then smirked at Tristan with entirely too much amusement in his eyes. “Try not to shoot the sheriff this time, brother.”
“When did you say your leave was up? Tomorrow, right?” His brother was Delta Force, stationed at Fort Bragg. He was also downright annoying.
“You trying to get rid of me?” Kade slapped him on the back. “If I didn’t know you loved me, my feelings would be hurt.”
“Since when do you have feelings?” he muttered, turning his back on Kade’s laughter so his brother wouldn’t see his grin.
Kade gave a sharp whistle. “All right, people, let’s give this drill another go.”
“Don’t shoot me this time,” Skye said as she passed him.
Tristan wondered if the only way to shut her up was to kiss her.
“I’d never shoot you, even accidently, beautiful Skylar.” Kade winked at her, then monkeyed his way up the ladder to his tower.
Tristan lost his grin. Kade was the only person in the world besides him and Skye who knew about that night. His brother also knew how to annoy him, and since that was one of Kade’s favorite things to do, he flirted with Skye whenever Tristan was around.
The law enforcement officers—some Skye’s people and some his—took their places. A few years ago, Tristan had talked Kade into conducting training drills with his officers. After the drill was over, they’d have target practice. Five months ago, Skye had showed up with her deputies and crashed the party. Tristan still didn’t know how she’d learned of the drills.
Since Marsville’s squirrely mayor considered himself an expert with a weapon, and since Luther would love playing cops and robbers, and since he was as likely to shoot himself in the foot, or God help them, one of them, the drills and especially target practice were top secret. Every one of Tristan’s officers had been sworn to secrecy, and the location was out in the boondocks on two acres he had bought for next to nothing.
No one was supposed to know about this place outside of his police force and his brothers, but Tristan had a sneaking suspicion Kade was the one who’d tipped Skye off. It would be just like him to do that, then sit back and enjoy the hell out of the fireworks that exploded anytime Tristan and Skye were within spitting distance of each other. His brother denied it, of course, but Kade loved stirring shit up.
From his lookout tower, enabling him to see everything going on below, Kade blew his whistle, signaling the drill was starting. Tristan kept eyes on Skye as they moved through the obstacle course he, Kade, and their baby brother, Parker, had built to simulate a few of Marsville’s downtown buildings.
Parker, being an artist, had insisted on accuracy, thus all the storefronts looked just like the real ones, the only difference being there weren’t any roofs. That had been Kade’s idea, so he could see what was going on inside the businesses from his “boss tower” when they drilled.
Tristan let Skye take the lead. He inwardly snorted. Let her his ass. She’d taken the lead, no let her about it, but he was enjoying the view. Skylar Morgan was easy on the eyes from her front and her back. She was tall, but still a head shorter than him, a body he could drool over if he allowed himself—and he had once—light brown hair that she kept in a tight bun low on her neck when in uniform, and blue eyes that had a hint of violet in them. Funny, though, how those eyes turned icy blue when they landed on him. But stored in his memory bank was how dark they’d turned when he was buried deep inside her and she’d screamed his name.
He could almost hate her for that night because she’d slipped right inside his mind and stolen any interest he might have had for any other woman after her. He wasn’t a manwhore, but he wasn’t a monk either. Or, he hadn’t been before Skye. He wasn’t liking his new monk status so much.
If he’d known who she was the night he’d met “first names only” Skye at Beam Me Up, Marsville’s honky-tonk bar, he would have steered clear of her. Hell, if he’d known how miserable she’d make him, he’d have run far, far away.
Who was he kidding? He’d have done exactly what he had...followed her to her motel room. A man in a trance. Over the past year, he’d decided that Skylar Morgan was a witch and had slipped enchantment powder in his drink when he wasn’t paying attention to what her sneaky hand was doing. He wanted her to unchant him.
The only reason he’d been at Beam Me Up that night was because the Watters brothers had been causing more trouble than usual. He’d stopped in to see if they were at the bar, and if so, put a stop to their shenanigans before things got out of hand, as often happened with those boys. They hadn’t been there, but the beautiful woman sitting at the bar had drawn his attention, and since he knew every living soul in Marsville but had never seen her before, he thought she was just passing through. Why not join her, see if she was interested in a little playtime, and then she’d be gone the next day.
After a bit of small talk and a lot of chemistry sizzling in the air between them, “first names only” Skye let him know she was interested. Only one problem, she was back a month later. The new sheriff in town. And when Luther introduced her to the existing chief of police, Tristan got his first glimpse of how icy blue her eyes could turn. He tried not to take it personally when she acted like they’d never met, but he had.
Then there was her name. She preferred Skylar, and that was what everyone called her. But she’d told him that night her name was Skye, so she’d forever be Skye to him. Added fun...fire flamed to life, melting some of that ice in her eyes, every time he called her Skye, and he knew why. His calling her Skye was a reminder of the night they’d spent together, and try as she might to hide it, he saw desire in those flames. He just didn’t know what to do about it.