Burn on the Western Slope (Crimson Romance) (12 page)

“That’s a good thing,” Tanner said, his lips drawing into a sulk. “Sure I can’t check out your heater for you?”

Reagan shook her head and gave him a terse look. “It’s fine. Thank you for dinner.” She turned to put her key in her lock as Tanner slunk away. She heard heavy boots behind her and whirled around with a harsh comment.

Garret stood beside his door with his keys in his hands. The words Reagan meant to tell Tanner died in her throat.

“Looking hot and heavy,” he said.

She stared at him, her pulse heavy against her ears at the intense vibrato of his voice. It resonated deep into her, drumming her heart, strumming her nerves as a guitar to be played.

She was so tired of being played by men who couldn’t carry a tune.

Garret unlocked his door. His hooded eyes skimmed her. Her cheeks burned, her toes tingled, her tongue dissolved in her mouth like ice turning to powder, melting before it reached the ground.

Her bulky winter clothing was anything but attractive. She should have bought that new ski jacket.

“Have a nice night,” he said before closing the door, leaving her standing in the hall.

Naomi was at Air Dog with Chayton, and Reagan wasn’t in the mood for socializing. She checked her email and wallowed in misery before picking up the phone to call Garret in a desperate attempt to clear up a misunderstanding.

No, she wouldn’t call him. She wanted to see him, talk to him face to face. To prove to herself his presence wouldn’t affect her. Her tongue, now a thick wad of glue in her mouth, wouldn’t loll out of her mouth and pant in lust. She could control herself and her feelings.

She always had before.

She took a deep breath before knocking on his door, as if that would stabilize the floor, the walls, and the roof that shimmied to the point she feared they would collapse. She considered leaving, running as fast as she could so he would never know who knocked on his door. He snatched it open before she had the chance.

She staggered back, or at least in her mind she staggered. She prayed her feet hadn’t moved. She clenched her mouth tight and silently counted to three, urging her voice to work.

“Hey,” he said in way of a greeting, propping his arm on the doorframe. She wasn’t sure if that was to keep her out or to keep him sturdy.

He stood before her. Shirtless. Wearing loose cargo pants, military green. Her eyes trailed his chest as she drank in the build of his body. Muscles. Long and lean. Everywhere. Striating and stretching across his chest and arms and shoulders. His waist narrowed into his pants.

God, it’d been too damn long.

She quickly hitched her gaze to his face before temptation overcame common sense. A smile played on his lips, in his eyes, as if he thought it amusing that she admired his body. “What’s up?” he asked.

A cat meowing caught her attention. Glancing down, Reagan noticed a tabby roving through Garret’s ankles. She bent to pick him up, trying not to notice Garret’s shoeless feet, his strong feet.

“That’s Aikido,” he said as she straightened. “He was Ray’s cat.”

“Oh,” she finally managed to say. The cat purred against her chest as she buried her face in his soft fur.

She’d wanted to meet her uncle’s cat and now that she had, she didn’t know what to do. Not with Garret standing in front of her, half naked, blocking the door so she couldn’t enter. He shuffled his feet as if tired of standing, but he didn’t invite her in.

Handing over the cat, she shook away her awkwardness and said what she came to say. “I wondered if the offer for skiing lessons was still available.”

“Tanner can’t show you?”

So he knew Tanner.

She inched her face up in something between defiance and confidence. She didn’t deserve to be treated like dirt just because she’d gone out with another man.

“I didn’t ask him.”

“He’s a womanizer, but I hear tell he’s a jealous one. I don’t care to get in a stew over his woman.”

“First of all, I’m not his woman. He asked me to go to dinner, I accepted.” She omitted the fact she would gladly accept an invitation from Garret if only he’d ask. “He wanted more than I was willing to give. I pushed him away. I don’t see where that matters.”

Aikido meowed again, glaring at Garret and demanding to be let down. Garret set him down, blocking the door with his feet so the cat couldn’t escape.

She turned away, ready to leave, her throat curling with crybaby tears she would not let escape. Angry tears. How could he be such a jerk?

He stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. “If you’re sure, meet me outside tomorrow morning at nine. We’ll outfit you to ski and go from there.”

• • •

Tanner Merkel?

What kind of woman was she? The kind who flocked to bad boys? She probably wrote love letters to murderers in prison. And here he thought she wasn’t aware of Kyle’s dealings. Was she the kind of woman who believed she could change a man simply by loving him?

Okay, so he’d admit he didn’t know Tanner. But if he was the kind of man to judge, and he was by profession, Tanner would be out of the cut for a nice guy. He wore his blonde hair long, his scars like an insignia, and his brusqueness as if it were his right.

Garret met him a week ago. He’d come into Air Dog with an attitude, looking for a drink and a fight. Garret would’ve been more than happy to furnish the latter if he could invent one good reason.

Maybe he’d found his reason.

So he checked up on him. He knew he couldn’t check on every man who showed an interest in Reagan, but he had his reasons this time. If he had to watch Reagan, it meant he had to watch everyone she encountered. Right now, everyone was suspect and anyone could be involved with Kyle Maloney.

Tanner Merkel had been in and out of jail, breaking petty laws. He was probably on drugs, may even be dealing them, and currently had a protective order against him brought on by an ex-girlfriend.

When he’d reported this to Buchanan, his supervisor only laughed. “Great cover, don’t you think?”

Animosity rose like corrosive slime in his throat, harsh and acidic and demanding to be let loose to attack its enemy. Right now, his enemy was Tanner. But since Tanner wasn’t handy, that corrosion turned on him, damaging any sanitary thoughts he may have had.

“
Tanner
is the agent you sent to help me?”

“You’re supposed to act like you don’t know him.”

“I won’t be acting,” Garret said, his voice rusty and top-heavy, ready to tumble into a chastisement of the way Buchanan handled this. “I don’t know him.”

“He’s only a backup. Not supposed to intrude on your investigation.”

“Then why did he take Reagan out to dinner tonight?”

“I don’t know, but that’s a great idea.”

Garret’s ire bubbled into a furious swelling of words he had to suppress. He couldn’t reveal to his boss that it bothered him. Couldn’t let on he felt anything for this woman, or he’d be booted off the investigation so fast his head wouldn’t have time to swim.

“What about Dawnya Johnson?”

“Ms. Johnson had another assignment.”

“He’s been here a week, and you’re just now telling me? What, you don’t trust me anymore?”

“Of course I trust you. But I don’t trust Javier Mass.”

“Be sure to warn me who my friends are next time,” Garret said before ending the call. If he didn’t end it, he’d say something he’d ultimately regret.

Tanner was a fed, but Garret considered him an enemy. He showed an interest in Reagan, he took her out to dinner, and he intruded on Garret’s investigation.

It pissed him off. Garret was trying to be professional by keeping his distance from Reagan, but Tanner jumped right in and attempted a post-dinner invitation into her condo. And her pants.

Wasn’t going to happen as long as Garret had a say.

Garret had trailed Reagan all week. She didn’t go crazy buying herself or all her friends back home souvenirs. She’d bought lip balm and a magazine today, and Naomi finally convinced her to buy a sweatshirt with Montana imprinted on the front.

Pride swelled — among other things — when her eyes had fluttered across his naked chest. He affected her, at least a little. Maybe not as much as she affected him, but he could do a lot with a little.

He hadn’t invited her in for fear he would do something incredibly stupid. Like kiss her. He had to get his head on straight. His duties as a federal agent required him to neglect his emotions. Emotions were dangerous. His were turning toxic. He couldn’t breathe with her near because he only smelled her minty, citrusy, sexy scent. Even now, he tasted mint, and not the overwhelming toothpaste or chewing gum type of mint. This was subtle, just like Reagan.

Now a watchdog trailed him. If he wasn’t on his best behavior, Tanner would report everything to Buchanan. And so what if he did report Garret? Hell, he’d walked in on Tanner’s lips zeroing in on Reagan’s, and his heart still beat in fury at the image. And not because he was pissed off about the investigation. No, he didn’t want another man’s hands on her.

He didn’t like working with people he didn’t know, and he didn’t know Tanner. He only knew he didn’t like Tanner.

Garret was supposed to be relaxing on his break — he’d earned the extravagance and paid the price way ahead of time. If he didn’t have to abide Buchanan’s ridiculous request, he would’ve already slept with Reagan.

He’d damn sure try, at least.

Chapter Nine

The next morning, Garret equipped Reagan with clothing and gear for their outing. He taught her the basics of skiing on a groomed, level trail. The closest person stood hundreds of feet away, so she didn’t have to imagine anyone running over her or vice versa.

“Imagine yourself skating.”

She hadn’t been skating in years. Never was good at it.

Once she managed to walk on level ground, he pointed to a small hill. “Now let’s try to ski downhill a bit,” he said, and taught her how to ascend the hill.

As she waddled her way up the slope, snowflakes whispered past, each telling its own story of beauty and tragedy. The raw wintry air made it easier to ignore Garret’s encroachment in her emotions. Bundled in his thick ski jacket and pants, it was hard to tell he was carved from steel.

They made a few runs down a small slope, then wobbled up a larger one. Well, large to her. In reality it was a small hill, but the ascent burned the insides of her thighs and made her throat ache. Her lips tasted like a charred marshmallow. Sweet, yet overly toasted from the snow, wind, and air.

“Here we are,” Garret said as she stopped beside him, his breath warm in her ear like another marshmallow roasted from a fire, though this one fresh and seared just enough to be soft, gooey, and sweet.

Her first few ski runs had been exhilarating, but looking down into the snow-covered trees intimidated her. Seeing other skiers on this part of the mountain intimidated her. The mountains swaddling this open terrain intimidated her.

“Come on,” Garret said before taking off, his goggles secured on top of his head, not covering his eyes.

Garret intimidated her. He probably wondered what in the world he was doing with her when he could be out having fun. She’d seen children skiing more mature slopes yet she was ready to let fear defeat her.

She felt like a failure around him. He was rugged and good-looking, and knew how to prepare for bears and avalanches. She was a city girl whose only survival techniques included fighting traffic and occasionally bypassing an alligator on the side of the road.

She was comfortable with failure. She held onto it for fear of changing, fear of finding success with dreams she hadn’t admitted in a long time.

Right now, those dreams included skiing. At least one run downhill.

Staring at the white powder and struggling to steady herself by taking slow, deep breaths, she crouched.
Remember the steps. Remember what Garret told you.
Keep the tips of the skis together, the backs pointed out to make a V, knees bent, weight on the inside of her feet. It took all of ten seconds before she reached bottom. Safe. Sound. Secure.

“That was unbelievable,” she exclaimed, glancing at the hill she’d accomplished. Pride swelled, her whole body cheering and raving at her triumph.

“Ready to do it again?”

This was probably nothing to him. He was used to plunging thousands of feet at hundreds of miles an hour. Okay, maybe not hundreds, but this was probably kindergarten to him.

“Yes,” she squealed. It might feel like kindergarten to him, but she’d conquered the world.

An hour later, she’d gone down a dozen times. Her knees ached, her thighs burned, and her butt stung as if she’d been sliding downhill all this time with nothing protecting her from the snow. She wasn’t ready to stop until Garret wanted to take her to the real slopes. A beginner’s slope, but one that would have more people and longer trails.

“Maybe I should do that another time,” she said.

“No, you do it now. I’ll never be able to get you back here if you don’t do it now.”

She fell to the ground and let the snow crunch into her. “But I’m so tired.”

“No you’re not.” He snagged her poles and reached out his arm.

“And I’m so hungry.” She waved her arms and legs, forming a snow angel.

He planted his knee in the snow, between her open legs before she could close them. Fire shot through her. Seizing her arm, he stood, pulling her up with him.

“Do I have to ride one of those things?” She glanced at the lift moving high up the mountain. Her heart pounded with a fury that had nothing to do with excitement.

“Yes, and it’s a blast. You’ll love it. So stop letting fear get in your way. I’ll be right beside you the whole time.”

“Fear, smear. Don’t try to convince me with your woman power words,” she teased, but the proud smile on his face made her want to do anything to please and impress him.

She followed his lead and sat on the chair lift.

“We’re getting off at the first stop,” Garret said. “Keep your ski tips up and move out of the way quickly.”

She nodded and closed her eyes, trying to imagine herself completing this run without falling. She hadn’t fallen yet, but then again she hadn’t gone down anything that could compare to this run.