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Miles’s finger falls away, and I whimper at the loss. I’m close to coming just from that little bit of contact. Is it the man? The ridiculously naughty way he was touching my body, yet keeping what we were doing hidden? Right at the bar?
Tracy comes up in a very buzzed rush of white boa feathers and giggles. “Come dance!”
I look to Miles, who’s smiling. His hands fall away completely and I watch—mortified—as he lifts the finger he just had inside me to his lips. And sucks.
“Did she give you her panties?” Tracy practically shouts.
I whip my head around to see if anyone notices. Yeah, I’m more embarrassed by that than by the way Miles had his hands up my skirt.
“She did,” he replies, amusement lacing his words.
He pulls them from his pocket to show Tracy, who squeals.
“Come dance!” she calls to me.
Miles shifts so I can be pulled away by Tracy. I glance at him and offer him a little wave as I’m tugged onto the dance floor and into the middle of the group of women. By the time the song is over and I look back, Miles is gone. And so are my panties. Tracy never snagged them.
Disappointment follows me the rest of the night. Being the only sober one at a bachelorette party isn’t all that great to start with, but then to be yanked away from an oncoming orgasm? Cruel.
Once at home and in bed, I toss and turn all night, dreaming of the sexy biker and his talented fingers, knowing the only way I’m getting orgasms anytime soon is with my vibrator.
Guys like Miles don’t exist in the area. And he said he was on a motorcycle ride. A ride that probably took him right back out of the county and to some other lucky girl.
3
MILES
“This is a pain in my ass,”Chance grumbles, dirt kicking up beneath the heels of his worn work boots. “Why the hell do we need to be questioned again? He was here last night.”
We make our way along the narrow dirt road between the main house and one of the many outbuildings on the vast Bridger property. The one we came from houses the ATVs and other mechanical equipment—tractors, snowmobiles, and even a snowplow. The space is big, well-kept, and more importantly, heated. My dream mechanic’s shop. If I’m staying here for a year, I figure I can use the space for my custom jobs.
I might have to follow the constraints of our dead father’s will and take up ranching in the middle of Bumfuck, Montana, but it doesn’t mean I can’t keep my business going in my downtime. MB Custom Builds can continue from anywhere, as long as I have room to work—which I do—and my clients ship their bikes or cars here instead of to my shop in New York. In the meantime, I’ll enjoy working on the older bike I just bought.
“The body might have been on our land, but the police have nothing to tie us to the murder,” Austin says. “Ifwhat Peterson says is true.”
The way Austin saysourland doesn’t go unnoticed. A shit ton has happened in the short time we’ve been here, and I agree with Austin. This place, even the stupid cows, feels more and more like…ours.
“Easy for you to say,” Chance counters. “You just got here. I have no alibi unless the police can pinpoint exactlywhenthe man was killed. Even then, I might not have one.”
Chance’s face is shaded from the bright sun by his Stetson, which he pretty much always wears unless he’s driving. I assume he takes it off for the shower and to sleep, but we aren’t close enough for me to know for sure.
He has a point.
“Louisa didn’t say anything about the police bringing a warrant this time,” I say, hoping that will ease his mind. “They’re not going to be poking around.”
The housekeeper called Chance’s cell to notify us of the unexpected visitors.
The local police. Again.
We come up around the back side of the house.
“It’s got to be because of Jonathan,” I say. “Who else was that big of an asshole? I never even met the guy, but I wouldn’t put murder past him.”
We turn the corner and proceed along the paved walkway, flanked by gardener-maintained flower beds, until we reach the steps leading to the front porch.
Two people hop up from the rocking chairs and I halt in my tracks.
“Oh, shit,” I mutter, eyeing one of them.
