Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 103552 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103552 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
I nodded. As much as I hated it, Ford himself would be the first one to make that argument—and had not that long ago. “Yeah, but I’m not—”
This time, West wasn’t just amused; he laughed out loud. “Ave, you’re not naïve. You’re not a kid. But in the ways that matter, you’re as innocent as you could be. I will not let you get set up to do hard time. It’s not happening. And if you love me the way you say you do, if you see me the way I know you do, you already know you can’t ask me not to protect you.”
At that, my eyes narrowed. “West Garfield,” I started, “if you think you can—”
He grinned. “I know you’re smart and capable. I won’t put you in a box, though sometimes it’s going to be a struggle, and I’m sure we’ll butt heads.”
“Probably,” I agreed.
“But in this, you need to let me do what I need to do. Because there is no world in which I’d let you go to jail over this. It’s not happening. This isn’t me bending my ethics for you. This is me protecting the woman I love. It’s not a compromise. It’s a privilege.”
“But how are you going to—” I pressed, his speech giving me the warm fuzzies even as I was trying to figure out how he’d keep me safe without tanking his career. If he couldn’t find the real arsonist, what were our options?
West shook his head. “I’m going to find out who set the fire.”
“But how?”
His dark eyes narrowed in aggravated amusement. “You do know this is my job, yeah? Before I was police chief, I was a detective.”
I’d forgotten. Somewhere in the depths of my memories, I guess I’d known West had gotten promoted to detective before he’d left to come back to Sawyers Bend. But I hadn’t really thought about what that meant. Police chief and detective weren’t the same thing.
He reached up to smooth my hair back, his eyes so sweet I braced. “I need you to do me a favor.”
“What?” I asked, suspicious but too mushy from his romantic speech to give him attitude.
“I’m going to bring you back to Heartstone, and I need you to stay there.”
I didn’t love that. “For how long?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “I’m not leaving you in jail, but you’re best off hidden. I want whoever set that fire to think you’re out of the picture.” He propped himself up on an elbow and looked down at me. “I want you to close Sawyers Bend Brewing for a few days. The brewery and the taproom.”
“Now?” I asked. “In leaf season?” I squeezed my eyes shut, knowing he was right. Cammie and Dave were good at their jobs—well, Dave was. Cammie was a little flaky, but still, they knew how to do their jobs and mostly did them well, whether it was tending bar or helping me out in the brewery.
But they didn’t run the place. If I kept it open, someone would have to make bank deposits, lock up, and get there early to open. What if whoever set me up went after the brewery? Dave and Cammie would be caught in the crossfire. I had a flash of swinging that stool at the door to Wild Haven, smoke filling my lungs. I shivered against West, suddenly cold. I wouldn’t wish those moments on anyone, especially my employees.
I let out a sigh. “Okay. Will you put up a sign?”
West kissed the top of my head. “Thanks for not arguing about it. I’ll put up a sign and call Cammie and Dave. I don’t want you to talk to anyone except your family and me. Not yet.”
“So, the idea is to make whoever did this think I’m under arrest?”
“Something like that,” West said. “Jim and Amanda at the front desk know you were in that cell, but they don’t know when you left or where I took you. I want to keep it that way. If whoever did this thinks I believe you’re guilty, maybe they’ll get careless. We could use some luck.”
“Okay,” I agreed.
“Okay.” West leaned down and kissed me, lingering, his tongue sliding against mine.
“We have to get moving,” I said with some regret as he pulled back, his eyes skating down my bare shoulder, catching on the curve of my breast.
“Shower?” he asked.
“Definitely.”
West had a big, square, glassed-in shower with a deep bench on one side. I rolled out of bed, stopping just long enough to dip a hand in his bedside drawer and pull out a condom. Tossing my hair back, I peeked over my shoulder, eyes drinking in the sight of his long body stretched out in bed, his dark hair mussed, his eyes hot as they scanned my naked form.
“Race you,” I said, and took off.