Chapter One
Beau gripped the long handle of the ax with both hands, then raised it above his head and brought it down with a satisfyingwhumpf, splitting the log in two. He already had more than enough firewood stacked by his shed to get him through the next eastern Tennessee winter and they were only a month into summer. But mindless exercise, pushing himself to the point of exhaustion all day, every day, was the best way he’d discovered to keep from doing the one thing he didn’t want to do.
Think.
It was the downtimes, when his body finally gave out and he was forced to sit, that thewhat ifs, the regrets came rushing in. Nights were the worst. It was all he could do to survive the long, dark hours before dawn until he could get up and do it all over again.
Run.
Swim.
Chop.
And sometimes, when nothing would drown out the memories, the reprisals, the self-recriminations for even one more minute, he’d pound his fists against the trunk of a tree until his knuckles bled.
Stop it. Don’t think. Do.
He raised the ax again and brought it down on the next log, disintegrating it into kindling that rained down onto the pile of neatly stacked wood.
“Whoa. That was impressive.”
He turned at the sound of the feminine voice with a barely noticeable Spanish accent, his hands still gripping the ax’s long handle.
A petite young woman with long nearly black hair, wearing a tight black T-shirt and black leather shorts was leaning against a tree about twenty feet away, holding up her hands as if in surrender. “I come in peace.” She smiled, the gold hoops in her ears, necklaces and rings on her fingers winking in the sunlight.
He set the ax on top of the woodpile.
“Can I help you?”
“I can wait. Keep chopping wood. I’m thoroughly enjoying all those glistening muscles. Awesome six-pack, by the way. And those well-defined pecs and mouth-watering biceps would make me weak in the knees if I was a weak-in-the-knees kind of girl. You’ve definitely got it going on.”
Frowning at her ridiculousness, he reached for the towel he’d left on a stump. He quickly brushed off the worst of the wood dust and sweat then pulled his discarded T-shirt over his head.
She sighed as if disappointed, drumming her nails against a rose-and-vine tattoo on her right thigh. “You had to ruin the show.”
He shook his head in exasperation. “You must be lost. This is private property.”
She straightened away from the tree, arching a perfectly plucked eyebrow, her blood-red lips the exact same shade as her surprisingly short but neatly shaped fingernails. “I know exactly where I am,Chief Dawson. Or should I call you Beau?”
His senses went on high alert. Who was she? What was she up to? She looked oddly familiar. But he doubted he could have met someone so over the top sexy with such a brash attitude and forget. So why did he feel as if he should know her?
“I’d prefer that you call me Chief Dawson. Who are you?”
“Not into foreplay, huh? I don’t mind if the main course is as good as the package promises it would be.”
In his sex-crazed college years, he’d have been tripping over his tongue because of her sexual innuendos. But he was older now, wiser, and knew better than to fall for the fake act she was putting on.
“You need to leave.” He started toward her to direct her off his land.
“Wait. Hold on.” Her playful mood disappeared and her dark eyes displayed an intelligence and intensity that had been lacking until now. “You asked if you could help me. The answer isyes. That’s why I’m here.”
He positioned himself directly in front of her, subtly looking for weapons in case this was a setup. It wouldn’t be the first time a criminal or one of their family members went after a person in law enforcement for revenge over some real or imagined slight.
Her tight outfit didn’t leave many possible hiding places for a weapon. But he wasn’t letting down his guard. The list of enemies he’d made through the years was long and deadly, one of the downsides to his chosen career.
“Typically people who need help from the police call the station or 911. They don’t trespass on the police chief’s private property.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not typical.”
