Every Last Touch Read online

  “Could be coincidence,” Thomas offered. “Or the activity with the drone was noticed the last time you were out and spooked whoever stored the packs here.”

  Stroking the mare’s neck, Walker looked at me and frowned.

  “Whatever the reason,” he said, “you’ve got nothing to take back to Moske.”

  I nodded. Walker was right.

  The investigation, for now, was finished.

  10

  Ashley

  Sitting in my office on Saturday evening, left leg propped up on two of Deacon’s boxes, I sorted through the retired agent’s files. I only loosely thought of them as “files.” The man had been a packrat. He had notes written down on fast food bags and the paper placemats filled with advertising that smaller diners used. The scuttlebutt recorded didn’t always have geographical notations. I figured the location likely coordinated to the area around the relevant diner or burger joint, so I made piles for each establishment.

  Deacon’s wife, still distressed by the heavy toll of the job on her husband, had told me to burn everything for all she cared. Moske had told me to shred it—that any useful information would already be in the official files since Deacon had no open cases or trials at the time of his stroke.

  I couldn’t bring myself to do either. Deacon couldn’t talk for himself yet. He might never be able to talk for himself again. But I would hold onto all of it until Moske forced me to take action. In the meantime, what wasn’t a recordable lead last year might be worth something this year, especially where Willow Gap was concerned.

  Placed atop a stack of McDonald’s bags, my phone vibrated, its unsteady support threatening to dump it onto the floor. I snatched the phone up and answered without looking at the caller.

  “Agent Callahan.”

  Walker’s voice came through smooth and mellow. “Hello, Agent Callahan.”

  “Oh, hey…” I fumbled with the phone, accidentally scattering the bags. “Sorry if I gave you the brush off yesterday.”

  I must have picked up my cell a dozen or more times in the six hours I’d been in the office, all with the intent to call Walker Turk. I just didn’t know what to say after the curt text replies I’d sent on my way back to Billings the night before.

  “If?” he teased before immediately offering me an exculpation. “You had a lot to think about with the packs gone and the timing of their disappearance.”

  “Yeah.” I growled at how convenient the timing was. Sure, it could be coincidence—or our Wednesday scouting trip with the drone could have spooked the people who placed the packs. Either way, I couldn’t get it out of my head how Moske had delayed me a day and given me next to no resources to check things out.

  “Sorry,” I sighed. “I’m not handling things well.”

  “So Moske shut it down?”

  “For now,” I answered, knowing, as far as my boss was concerned, the investigation was shut down for good.

  “Did he take your intern back, too?”

  “No.” The first grin since my discovery of the packs being removed skimmed my face. “I didn’t mention Thomas yet. But I sent him home for the weekend.”

  “I see,” Walker answered, a delicious note of speculation warming his voice. “So you’re not going to be out in the field the rest of this weekend?”

  “No,” I agreed, a little breathlessly, thankful that he was willing to move past my shutting him out the day before after all the help he had already given.

  “I’m sorry,” I repeated. “For yesterday. I really was being a pouty brat and you have gone above and beyond to be helpful.”

  Walker chuckled, the sound rippling down my spine so that I was hot and cold all at once.

  “Happy to serve,” he said.

  I sucked my bottom lip in, brows lifting as I imagined other ways he might serve. Finding him in a forgiving mood, I suddenly couldn’t stop thinking about the times we had kissed.

  “So,” he started, his voice changing tack to something a little more formal. “Mama wants you to come to dinner tomorrow. I am, of course, volunteering to pick you up and return you home.”

  I didn’t need but a blink to consider the offer. Lindy’s amazing cooking was its own reward, but I would also have three hours in the vehicle with Walker, talking, maybe holding his hand or delivering a casual brush to his leg, all the while bathing in his scent and that deep rumbling baritone. Later, when he returned me to my doorstep—well, anything could happen at that point.

  “I’d love to,” I answered. “Just tell me what time you’ll be there and the dress code.”

  Walker’s first response sounded like the purr of a mountain lion. All the way until he gave me a real answer, I imagined him making that sound again, his lips against my ear, the two of us curled up on my bed with no dress code.

  “We’re pretty casual,” he said. “No shorts or flip flops at the dinner table. No work boots.”

  He paused, voice dropping a few decibels. “Skirts are always nice.”

  “Okay,” I rasped before quickly recovering with a joke. “But I’m not sure how I’m going to like seeing you in a skirt.”

  “Careful, Agent Callahan,” Walker purred. “The Turks may be Irish, but Mama has more than a few Scots in her family tree. It’s been a while since she opened up her heirlooms chest, but I seem to recall an actual kilt in there.”

  Warm blood infused my torso at the idea of Walker Turk shirtless and wearing a kilt with nothing on beneath to cover the big cock he had swinging between his legs.

  Opening my mouth to shoot back a reply, all I could do was cough.

  “I thought so,” he laughed. “I’ll pick you up at two-forty-five. That’ll give you about half an hour to mingle with the family before dinner is on the table.”

  Right, the family, its scope nearly overwhelming for an only child like me. So far I had met Lindy, Siobhan, Leah, Sutton, and Emerson. I had heard of Adler and his new wife, another brother by the name of Barrett, and Leah’s father Jake. There were no other siblings—still alive. But there were more cousins, an uncle and his wife. And I had seen the dinner table, the one in the long dining hall with its wide fireplace and a family tree etched on copper leaves that extended from about a foot above the mantle up to a few feet short of the ceiling on a two-story room.

  “Who…uh…how many?”

  “A lot, but they’ll love you,” he promised. “Every last one.”

  I drew a breath in and held it.

  Love me? What was that about?

  “Everyone has been so kind,” I said after a second’s delay. I felt like a broken record or one of those antique tin toys that, for a penny, would perform an act over and over. Like bowing and incessantly repeating “so kind, so kind.”

  “Two-forty-five,” he repeated. “I’ll leave my kilt at home.”

  11

  Walker

  Arriving a few minutes early to Ashley’s apartment complex, I pulled into a spot close to her front door and shut off the engine. Looking over my shoulder, I stared at the bouquet of flowers in a vase carefully positioned on the back floorboard, a work boot on each side to keep it from tipping over. It was a nice vase, but not “too” nice. And I had picked a friendly assortment of flowers instead of long-stemmed roses in a lusty shade of red.

  It was the only time in my life I’d spent more than a few seconds picking out flowers for a woman. It was also my first time buying them for a woman I wasn’t related to.

  I didn’t want to scare Ashley off. But I didn’t want her thinking that I had lost interest in her romantically. Far from it. I spent the first two hours trying to fall asleep the night before thinking about her, about having her sit next to me for the drive and again at dinner, hopefully in something other than pants.

  A fresh image of her in a skirt with her hair down sent my brain and body running in all kinds of directions.

  Blowing out a hot breath, I yanked the key from the ignition and pocketed it. I eased the vase and flowers into the front of the cab, scrut
inizing them one more time.

  It was just flowers, I assured myself. Not like I was picking out a ring or anything. At least not yet.

  Crazy thinking, I chided. My family had been through a lot this year, had lost so much. I figured my brothers would be lying if they said they didn’t have a magnified sense of their own mortality. To top it off, I had watched helplessly as a tree almost landed on top of Ashley’s vehicle.

  Maybe I should hide the flowers. Not give them to her.

  A soft knock at my window loosened my grip on the vase. It started to fall. I jerked forward to recover and hit my forehead on the steering wheel. Sheepishly, the flowers under control once more, I looked out the window to see Ashley wearing a soft smile and a sleeveless pale green dress. Her hair was down, the thick tresses sweeping forward when she dipped her head and stepped away.

  Adam’s apple bobbing, I hurried to open my door. Once outside the truck, I got a better look at the outfit. The bottom half of the dress ended in a bouncy frill just below her knees. What I could see of her legs was bare and smooth, the pale skin begging for my touch.

  I reached out, ran my thumb against her shoulder and marveled at the instant flush that colored her skin with a full body glow. At least it was full bodied from what I could see—arms, neck, face, and a set of shapely calves.

  I was hungry to see more. Hungry to see everything. Her lush curves haunted me every night.

  “Are those for me?” she asked.

  I nodded, my tongue and lips an uncoordinated mess.

  “I’ll take them inside before we go.”

  Slowly, like she thought I might spook, Ashley took the flowers from me. I followed her inside the apartment and shut the door.

  While she topped off the water in the vase, I surveyed the room. The lack of furnishings had surprised me before, keeping me from looking at what was actually there.

  Pretty much nothing. I was certain with a few bungee cords and some careful packing, I could move everything in the apartment with just one trip in my truck.

  “I’ve only been here a couple of months,” she reminded me. “And whatever I buy for this space may not be right for when I find a house.”

  I nodded, my feelings mixed on her talking about a house. I liked that she wanted to put down roots. I just wasn’t in favor of her buying a home anytime soon—I already had a place and I could see her standing in the doorway in that pretty green dress as I came home from work.

  “When were you going to start looking?”

  “Closer to the end of my lease,” she answered, drying her hands before turning off the kitchen light. “They’ve got me on the hook for the full year unless I get a transfer. After that, I can go month-to-month if necessary.”

  Ashley glanced at the gold-toned watch she wore that was just a shade darker than her sandals.

  “Did you need anything before we leave?”

  Her voice had grown hesitant. Probably because I was acting like a wordless fool.

  Nodding, I took a step closer and cupped her cheeks. “I need this.”

  My mouth found hers. Eyes closed, I couldn’t see another flush spreading along her body, but I could feel the increase in heat against my fingertips and across my chest as she leaned into me.

  Sliding my hands down Ashley’s back, I drew her closer, our bodies molding together, everything a perfect fit. My mouth dropped to just below her ear, then swept down the curve of her throat.

  Hearing Ashley groan, I almost lost my mind, almost reached for the top of the dress’s zipper to find the pull and slowly unveil the beauty in front of me.

  Air rattled as it left my body. I eased back, my lips ghosting hers for a second before I stepped completely away.

  “Got your keys?” I asked.

  Ashley blinked, her mind still caught in the moment, all tangled up in the brush of my mouth and the heat of my body. The sight of her lost like that, lost because of my touch, made me want to tug her to me and start all over, this time without ever stopping.

  The opportunity to do so ended when Ashley blinked again, then laughed.

  “You know, a woman could be forgiven for being confused around you,” she said, grabbing a small clutch that matched her shoes.

  “Yeah?” I chuckled, holding the front door open for her as we left the apartment.

  Nodding, she locked up. “Yeah. First you try to drop a tree on me, then you go out of your way to make amends by driving me where I was headed, helping me collect evidence, having your mother put me up for the night…then you show up with flowers and sit there in your truck like you’re thinking of chucking them instead of giving them to me.”

  “I was,” I confessed, opening the truck door and offering her my hand so she could step up.

  She didn’t take my hand, didn’t step up.

  “Why?”

  “I haven’t bought a woman flowers before…I mean, I have for Mama and when my grandmothers were still alive, for Dawn and Aunt Dotty…it’s a lot more complicated buying for a woman who isn’t a relative.”

  “The whole ‘hidden language’ thing?” She punctuated the question with an eye roll followed by a shake of her head.

  “You’re teasing, but that’s exactly it.”

  Hooking my belt loops, Ashley reeled me in. “So what was the problem—not knowing what you were trying to say or not sure if the bouquet matched what you were thinking?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t know.”

  That was perhaps the safest answer I could give, but definitely not the most honest.

  “The woman at the flower shop confused the heck out of me,” I continued as Ashley quietly stood there studying my face. “She had a million questions.”

  “Oh…” A not-so-innocent smile crept across her beautiful face. “Like what?”

  “Was this a date? That was the first one.”

  “Is it?”

  My mouth twisted around. It was dinner at my mother’s and at my mother’s invitation. It was less than a date one way, and so much more than a date in all the ways that counted.

  “I’m going to tell you what I couldn’t tell that woman at the shop.”

  “Oh, and what was—”

  I cut her off with another kiss, my hands knotting in her hair, my mouth demanding and hard. I kissed Ashley until she started to shake and her knees went weak.

  Dipping my torso for a second, I scooped her up and carefully placed her inside the cab of my truck. I drew the seatbelt across her torso, planting a long, lingering kiss against her neck before I closed the door.

  Hustling around to the driver’s side, I climbed in. Sliding the key into the ignition, I froze as Ashley reached across the center and gave my thigh a firm squeeze.

  My gaze met hers and she smiled.

  “Great answer,” she said.

  12

  Ashley

  Walker parked his truck in the circular drive outside his mother’s home. He took his seat belt off, but didn’t seem in a hurry to leave the vehicle. His right hand found my left and gently squeezed.

  I wondered how many women he had brought home for Sunday dinner. He acted like I was the first, but that didn’t seem possible. He had known me all of a week. A man who looked like him, ran his own business and was in his early thirties would have plenty of women vying to be Mrs. Walker Turk. Surely at least one of them had made it past his mother’s front door on a Sunday afternoon.

  “Kind of a full house,” he said, turning in his seat to look at me. “Adler and Sage are back from their honeymoon.”

  “And you’re sure I’m not intruding?”

  “Positive,” he answered. “Mama invited you and they got in yesterday morning. Barbecue yesterday must have had about fifty people. Mostly family and a bunch of ranch hands with their families.”

  A horn sounded. Not from a car or truck, something else. Almost like a boat’s horn. Hearing it again, I looked toward the house as Walker began laughing.

  “For some reason, big brother got the idea in
his head that the best thing to bring back from Hawaii for Leah was a conch shell. Who knew her little lungs could hold so much air?”

  Tilting my head just right, I spotted the little girl on the porch, standing and staring at Walker’s truck. She had a string of fake flowers around her neck and a grass skirt. She waved then sucked in a deep breath and began to blow once more.

  “We’d best go in before she has everyone on the porch watching us.”

  Walker jumped out and got around to my side of the truck as I finished sliding my seat belt off. He opened the door and extended his hand.

  Taking it, I smiled from the memory of how he had lifted me into the truck’s cab outside my apartment.

  The gesture had struck a deep chord. I’d never felt so feminine in my life as I had when he’d done that, the mix of emotions a knot of sensual and cherished. I couldn’t imagine another guy trying to lift me, even if they possessed the same strong build as Walker.

  I stepped down, my gaze on him. I didn’t want to think about others watching us at that moment. Everything I felt right then was new to me, the fact triggering an unwelcome vulnerability.

  Keeping hold of my hand, Walker steered me to the front porch.

  Jake, Leah’s father, had come out to see to the toddler.

  “Gam-Gam said no flip flops or grass skirts at the table. No shells, either.”

  Holding the conch tight to her chest with one arm, the little girl swirled a hand at her father.

  “It’s not crazy talk,” he said, turning Leah toward the door. “It’s Gam-Gam’s table, so you follow her rules.”

  Holding the door open, he gave Leah a gentle tap on her bottom to get her moving. Continuing to hold it open, he nodded at Walker and me.

  Together, we entered the hall. Standing near the fireplace in the great room, Emerson caught sight of us and waved.

  “If I’d known you were coming,” he said. “I could have saved Walker the drive.”