Page 93 of The SEAL and the Sheriff

She grabbed her station key and cruiser fob, the set she could find blindfolded at three in the morning. She almost laughed when she realized she’d grabbed the wrong set. She shook her head and swapped them for Wyatt’s Volvo keys.

She looked around the quiet house one last time. Flowers on the table. Fruit in the bowl. A life she’d built one careful day at a time.

Tonight she wasn’t driving to a call.

She was driving toward Hudson.

38

Hudson headed to the hotel bar twenty minutes early. He told himself it was because he liked being early. It had nothing to do with the fact he hadn’t been on a date in years.

The hotel bar sat just off the lobby, its walls paneled in polished wood, an open fire crackling at the far end. Beyond the broad windows, snow drifted lazily across Aurora Cove, the town muffled beneath a fresh layer of white.

He chose the table nearest the fire and sat down.

Thirty seconds later, he realized his back was to the entrance. He got up again and moved to a table closer to the window.

A small tealight flickered on the table in a glass holder. He straightened the candle. Moved the napkin holder half an inch. Squared the sugar bowl with the edge of the table while the waitress brought his drink. She set his bourbon on a white paper napkin. He thanked her and held the glass between his hands without drinking.

He’d been in firefights with a calmer pulse than this.

He checked his watch.

6:56.

He ran a finger inside his collar, undid a button, and checked his watch again.

6:58.

He put his phone away and adjusted his glass of bourbon. The exterior entrance to the bar opened at seven precisely. A swirl of cold air swept through the room, carrying a scatter of snowflakes.

Sarah.

She unwound her scarf as she looked around, cheeks flushed from the cold.

Her gaze met his. A smile tugged at her mouth, and she gave him a little wave. Hudson stood up, his mouth dry.

She crossed the room to him, unbuttoning her coat, a nervous laugh escaping her. “This feels weird.”

“A little bit,” he agreed. Years of imagining this, and somehow he’d never once imagined the nerves.

He came around to help her with her coat. Tiny silver hoops caught the firelight when she tucked her hair behind one ear, and he had to consciously remember what his hands were for.

When he returned from hanging the coat, she was smoothing her dress over her thighs, and he lost his train of thought entirely.

Christ. She was beautiful.

For the first time since he’d arrived in Aurora Cove, there was no badge or uniform between them. Just Sarah. Hair loose. Eyes impossibly blue against the navy of her dress. She’d lived in jeans when they were teenagers. Somewhere in the years between, she’d become a woman, and he’d missed all of it.

“You’re staring,” she said, but she didn’t sound as if she minded.

“Yeah.” He didn’t try to deny it. “Give me a second. I had a whole plan for this evening, and you just walked in and deleted it.”

That got a laugh out of her, quick and surprised, as if she hadn’t expected him to admit it.

“What was the plan?”

“Something about being casual.” He pulled her chair out for her, and when she sat, he caught the scent of her, citrus and soft musk, and lost another few seconds deciding whether she’d chosen it for tonight or if it was just her. “Doesn’t seem to be working.”