Sierra Falls (Sierra Falls 1)

“Bailey,” he greeted her, but his eyes went straight to the roof and widened. “Holy crap, you weren’t lying. The roof caved in. ”

“It didn’t cave in,” she snapped. “A dead branch crashed through. And your guys are doing a bang-up job at destroying the rest of it. ”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. ” He practically leapt up the remaining stairs, his fit body effortlessly closing the distance between them to pull her in his arms. “Easy, babe. What do you need? You want me to help clear this stuff out of the way?”

Sorrow let herself sink into him, her body shuddering in a big sigh. She should hold her tongue—Damien was there to help. She nodded.

Keeping one firm arm around her, he shouted at the crew to haul every single trunk, suitcase, and box downstairs. He pulled her out of the way as they jumped into action. Naturally, the place cleared before her eyes.

She put a hand on his chest, pushing away to look up at him. “Thank you. ”

He pinched her chin. “Anything for a lovely lady in distress. And they’re not my guys,” he added with a laugh. “They’re Jack’s guys, and they’re doing me a favor. They want to patch it up and get out of here as fast as you do. ”

He hugged her close, then pushed back again, snaking his hand up the back of her sweater. “Whatcha hiding?”

She playfully swatted his arm away, self-conscious about Jack’s crewmen looking on. “Come downstairs. I’ll put on a pot of coffee and show you. ”

The Bailey family kitchen was sunny and warm, heated by an old woodburning stove that probably broke all manner of environmental laws. The yellow walls and gingham curtains had the feel of something that was in need of a modern renovation, but it was Sorrow’s favorite room in the house, and if anyone wanted to touch it, they’d have to go through her first. Good thing her dad didn’t like change.

Of course, it had undergone some changes since she was a kid. The tavern was separate from the main lodge, and to keep up with codes, they’d needed to revamp the restaurant kitchen in the nineties.

Sorrow had been much younger then, but even as a teenager she’d seen her opportunity, and had convinced her dad to upgrade a few of the family’s appliances while they were working on the tavern. Their avocado-green Amana fridge became a nice GE one with ice and water in the door, and the ancient stove had become a decent model, with six burners and a griddle option.

It was her refuge.

She prepared Damien’s coffee the way he liked it—black, with just a splash of half-and-half—and brought it to him at the table. Loud crashing and scraping sounds came from above, and she gave his shoulder a distracted squeeze. “Can I get you something to go with that? I made my apple cinnamon bread. ”

He took a sip and, putting his cup down, stood to embrace her. He nestled his face in her neck, his hand sweeping down to cup her backside. “I know what I need, and it’s not food. ”

“Jeez, Damien. ” She pushed away with a laugh. “You’re a machine. ”

He pulled her back. “You know it. ”

For some confusing, illogical reason, she pictured the sheriff again.

Unsettled, she stepped away. Needing something to do with her hands, she pulled the letters from where she’d tucked them. “I wanted to show you something. ”

“I’ll show you something. ” He reached for her again.

She flinched away, annoyed. She was feeling a total disconnect. They had a physical connection, and the sex was always good, but more and more it wasn’t as satisfying. There was just something missing. It made her feel ungrateful, because he really was a great guy. He was always there for her, especially lately.

Mustering her patience, she tried to make herself heard. “Please listen, Damien. For once, I’ve got something to think about besides the lodge. ”

He traced a finger along her collarbone. “You know what I think about?”

“Be serious. ” She walked to the counter and began slicing her bread.

“I am serious,” he said, and she felt him stand behind her. Looking over her shoulder, he spotted what she was doing. “Hey, I wasn’t kidding. No bread. I’ve been feeling loose in the cage. ” He patted his already hard belly. “I’m cutting out bread and beer for the week. ”

She put her knife down. “Loose in the cage? The only thing loose on you are a few screws. ”

The guy was all discipline—except when it came to nookie. She turned and saw the hunger in his eyes, and scooted to avoid him. “Damien. ” She attempted a playful laugh, but there was an edge to it. “I really want you to see this. I’m excited about it. Besides, you cannot expect me to get”—she lowered her voice—“you know, in the mood, with all this going on. ” She pointed at the ceiling.

“What better time?” He fingered a slice of the bread, considering it, then shoved it away decisively. “All that hammering, babe. You could make all the noise you wanted, and nobody would even hear you. ”

“I’m sho

wing you what I found. ” She sat at the table, effectively putting an end to his seduction, and settled the stack of letters before her.