Page 20 of Still Missing You

“Now what?”

“Let’s go into town like we planned, check out the store where Matthew worked. We can always come back later.”

“I guess,” I say, and follow Hunter back to the truck. I can’t shake the feeling that we’re losing any chance to catch the man by surprise. I’d lived in a small town long enough that I knew how fast the waves of gossip rolled. Nancy and Jim Ellis would mention us to someone, and that we were here looking for my missing cousin. It was only a matter of time. More than likely, word had already started to spread.

If Kirkland did have anything to do with Matthew disappearing, his cousin, looking for answers, could drive him into hiding. And how would we find Matthew then?

***

Less than fifteen minutes later, and we’re back downtown, Hunter pulling into a parking spot across the street from The General Store where Matthew had worked. Dark clouds are low and menacing, but the rain from earlier has stopped, at least for now. The air is cold and damp, and when the wind kicks up, it seeps through my clothes, sending a chill into my bones. I pull my jacket tighter around me. God, I hate the cold.

We both climb out of the truck, then cross the empty street to the store in question. Set in the center of Coldwater’s downtown core, or what was left of it, The General Store is one of the few businesses still open. On the opposite side of the street, and a few empty storefronts down, there’s a thrift store and a convenience store on the corner, but not much else.

Few cars pass, and I spot only one person on the sidewalk. She looks like she’s in her twenties, and she’s pushing a baby carriage into The General Store ahead of us.

Absently, I reach for Hunter’s hand, tangling my fingers with his. He stops walking, sighs and shoots me a glare. “Why do you keep doing that?”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to admit that I’m holding his hand because it clearly annoys him. And that’s the only reason. Not because I like the feel of his big, warm hand wrapped around mine. Nope. Nothing like that.

Instead, I grin up at him. “We’re supposed to be a couple, so we should look like a couple.”

I know my answer isn’t fooling him. I can tell by the smirk curling his mouth that he knows I like the way it gets under his skin.

“Really?” he asks.

“Got to play the part.” I grin. I can’t help myself.

“Why stop at hand-holding, then?” Hunter steps toward me at the same time he pulls me closer by the hand he’s gripping.

Before I can say anything more, he leans in, pressing his lips against mine.

For a split second, my mind blanks, and all I can think about is Hunter’s mouth; the firm pressure of his lips, the taste of mint from his toothpaste and the heat simmering under my skin like an electrical charge, chasing away any hint of a chill from the cold air outside.

Without thinking, I move closer, drawn by the heat radiating from his frame until our chests touch. I deepen the kiss, nipping at his lips to grant me access. He does, and I take full advantage, sweeping my tongue along his.

I’d forgotten what it was like to kiss him, how much I missed it. I feel like I’m home again, and I know I am so far in over my head, I may never find my way out.

Chapter Eight

Hunter

As soon as my mouth touches Dylan’s, I know I’ve made a fatal miscalculation. The kiss is supposed to be a quick jab, a way to rattle him, put him in his place, but from the moment my lips find his, the years between us collapse. His taste, his heat, the sharp inhale from his chest—none of it feels like the past anymore. It’s here and alive and achingly familiar.

I mean to pull away quickly, see that smirk of his wiped clean from his face. Instead, I linger, hungry for the way Dylan’s mouth parts and his tongue slides against mine. I need to stop this and regain some sanity at the moment, but I don’t want to.

Finally, I tear my mouth away, step back, and do my best to ignore my uneven breathing. Dylan watches me with heated blue eyes, his expression unreadable but far from indifferent.

“What was that?” he asks, voice rough and heavy with accusation.

“Just playing the part.” I wish my voice didn’t sound so wrecked.

Silence stretches until Dylan finally says, “We should go inside.”

He releases my hand. Maybe he forgot he’d still been holding it. I feel the absence immediately, and I wish I could take it all back.

Dylan walks inside the store, and I follow, feeling sheepish. I do my best to shake it off. I have a job to do, and I can’t get bogged down in all this personal crap. I should never have agreed to any of this: taking his case, bringing him along on the investigation, or pretending to be a couple. And I sure as hell shouldn’t have kissed him standing in the middle of the street.

I’ll apologize later, once we’re back at the inn, and then I’ll behave like a professional.