Talk Me Down. Victoria Dahl
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She looked up from tugging on her hat, and he caught her in a simple, soft kiss. “I had fun tonight.”
“Oh,” she sighed, eyes closed, lips turned up in a secret smile. “Oh, so did I.”
There was nothing to be done, so Ben walked her to her door, gave her a quick lecture because she’d forgotten to lock it, declined her invitation to spend the night, then told her to sleep well. She assured him that she would.
Whatever his regrets, Ben walked back to his truck feeling glad that one of them was in for a peaceful, sated night.
UNBELIEVABLE. Molly Jennings was out of control.
An owl screeched from somewhere close by, probably irritated with the human hiding in the moon shade of the trees, scaring all the prey away. But the shadow watching Molly didn’t budge.
The girl had just had sex in a truck, in public, with a man she barely knew. She’d been in Tumble Creek all of, what? Four days?
She didn’t even look ashamed of herself as she closed her front door. Hell, she probably knew she’d been watched, and had enjoyed it all the more. It would be in keeping with her personality. Always drawing attention.
Perhaps she slept with strange men in public all the time. Perhaps she’d screwed all the patrons in the bar tonight before leaving with Chief Lawson.
Damn it.
She probably felt safe here, living a charmed life in these mountains, but the razor peaks and icy nights had broken thousands of men over the centuries. It would be easy enough to change her mind about returning to this town.
The lock-pick gun shifted in the black bag, heavy as a gold bar but so much more valuable. People—single women in particular—locked their doors at night and felt secure, but that was pure ignorance. Every locksmith owned one of these gadgets that could open any cheap lock. Every locksmith…and every police department.
Molly would sleep soundly tonight, satisfied with her evening’s fun, and she’d have no idea of her vulnerability. No idea that someone could stalk through her house with no fear, even stand over her bed and watch her sleep.
But she would realize her ignorance soon enough. Her female instincts would try to warn her, niggling at the edges of her consciousness. Fear would worm its way into her head, but there’d be no proof of anything, no implication that her terror was well-founded.
She’d be afraid. She’d feel confused. Soon enough, paranoia would set in. And then she would move away from Tumble Creek and back to Denver where she belonged.
ONLINE SEX PERFORMER.
“Jesus,” Ben sighed into his hands.
It was a good possibility. Better than the first two had been. It wasn’t illegal, she could work from home, and she could make a heck of a lot of money doing it. And how the hell was he supposed to rule it in or out?
The background report glowed on his computer screen, bathing him in its censuring light. Nothing. Not even a traffic violation. Molly Jennings was a good girl, at least as far as the system was concerned. As far as Ben was concerned, she was fascinatingly bad. But just how bad, he didn’t yet know.
When she’d had the wi-fi antenna attached to her roof the day after she’d moved in, he hadn’t thought much about it, but he was thinking now. Was it just about a city girl’s love for speedy Internet connections or did she need to upload huge amounts of information?
A few days ago he wouldn’t have been able to imagine her doing sex shows for money, but now he could picture it all too well. She was…easy to watch. Even easier to listen to, and holy hell, what if that was how she’d learned how to turn him on like a goddamn switch?
“Please, no,” he whispered to the computer. The vast universe of online sex loomed on Ben’s horizon, glittering and ominous and writhing with danger. He’d never find her in there, even if he searched for weeks. Which brought up the question of how he was supposed to search anyway. He was on dial-up at home, and he could just imagine trying to explain to the mayor why he’d visited hundreds of online sex sites on his office computer, stalking a female citizen who hadn’t broken any laws.
Nice. Just the kind of behavior Ben had been aiming for his whole life.
He reached for his cold coffee that was sitting on top of the latest Tumble Creek Tribune. “Tribune, my ass,” he growled into the mug. “More like the Tattler.”
He’d called Molly on Friday morning to apologize and warn her what was coming—she’d seemed fairly unconcerned—and his gut had been churning the rest of the weekend. But when he’d found the paper on his porch this morning, the column had been only slightly enraging.
I’m officially declaring our esteemed Chief Lawson a workaholic. You may remember that last week he greeted our newest citizen, Molly Jennings, with unexpected enthusiasm. This week he’s become a one-man fire brigade, putting out fires at the Jennings home in the darkest night. It’s all on the up and up, though. He even used a siren to announce his late-night arrival.
As for Ms. Jennings, she’s presenting a bit of a mystery. Her very own brother has confirmed that she keeps her work life a secret…even from her family! Check back on Thursday for more details.
So no one had seen Molly half-naked in his truck—or no one had reported it to Miles—but that bastard had finally sniffed out the really important question. Who was Molly Jennings? No doubt he’d hang on like a pit bull for months, trying to shake out the truth. Ben just had to be sure he found out before Miles did.
There was nothing scandalous about the chief of police dating a single young woman. People might smile as they read the details, they might talk it over with their friends, but it wasn’t a scandal. Ben had seen a true scandal, and he knew the difference.
He’d seen people stop their errands to stare at his family. He’d watched friends’ parents snatch their children back before they could approach. He’d seen hateful joy on faces he’d known his whole life. And pity. And disgust. Hostility. Mocking laughter. Superiority. Delight. Sorrow.
Everything he’d ever known about himself had cracked and crumbled when his father had slept with a girl only one year older than Ben. Lucky for all of them she’d been eighteen at the time. Unluckily, she’d still been in high school. There had been the initial denials, then the small irrefutable details, then admissions and confessions and apologies. There’d been police investigations, emergency school board meetings, dismissal, serious money problems. The townspeople’s outrage, his mother’s horror and grief, Ben’s own confusion and anger. Tales of his father’s sex life. Divorce. Bankruptcy. And all of it reported in loving detail in Miles’s paper.
So, yes, Ben knew the difference between harmless gossip and true scandal. And true scandal would be Tumble Creek’s chief of police dating a prostitute or a porn star. Miles would love it. And Ben would be a pitiful echo of his father.
He could not date Molly Jennings until he found out the truth, even if he had spent the past days thinking incessantly that he should have taken her into the house and done things right.
“Happy Halloween, Fire Chief!” his second in command called as he walked by. He waved the paper as he passed, just in case Ben failed to get the joke.
“Kiss my ass, Frank,” Ben called back in a cheerful tone.
Brenda appeared almost immediately in his doorway, shooting a disapproving look at Frank’s back. “I’m sorry, Chief. You shouldn’t have to put up with this nonsense.”
“It’s fine, Brenda. Honestly.”
“Miles Webster should be shot.”
“He’s just doing his job.” The words stuck