Eleanor Owen needs to get out of Chicago and quick. It’s not that she doesn’t want to obey the subpoena to testify against her drug-trafficking ex-boyfriend. It’s making it to the witness stand alive, should a dirty cop make good on his threats.
Tiny, remote Wyattsville, Oregon looks like the perfect place to disappear, but it’s hard to blend into the woodwork when one of the town’s infamous namesakes sends her heart racing. Worse, Mr. Tall, Hot and Packing is the town sheriff, which means she should stay as far away from him as possible.
Tyson Wyatt is positive the sexy new girl in town is hiding something. Question is, what? He vows to feel out her secrets—including what she feels like beneath him. Preferably naked. Until then, he’s not buying the story she’s selling.
Their chemistry is sheet-melting hot, and Ellie realizes much too late that the man with the badge is as dangerous to her heart as her ex is to her life…
Ellie set the book she was reading down with a sigh and lifted her head to gaze out the window. Beyond the hills and trees, there was the faintest hint of blue. The Pacific Ocean.
Longing twisted inside her and she bit her lip. She was so tempted to say screw it all, leave the house she’d rented and go explore the beach. Or the cute little part of downtown she’d only been to once. Good God, anything to get outside.
It wasn’t that the house was awful or anything, it was wonderfully quaint and cozy. A small, two-bedroom cottage with a great kitchen and nice view. She knew the house inside and out. Had explored every nook and cranny, knew every spot where the floorboards creaked, had discovered that the hot water had a tendency to scald.
It was like she’d lived here for years. When, really, it had only been five days since she’d gotten off the Greyhound bus in the larger neighboring town and then taken an expensive taxi ride into Wyattville.
Five days since she’d emptied her bank account and fled Chicago. She’d paid cash for everything, having hidden her bank and credit cards before leaving. Fortunately, the couple who’d rented her the house had been more than happy to accept cash as her deposit and two months worth of rent.
Hearing the soft bubble of water from the kitchen, Ellie stood and headed for the kitchen to check on her eggs.
Maybe she could go into town today and buy some more groceries, though she really didn’t need any, since she’d bought a ton during her one and only trip to the store.
The whole point of her being here was keeping a low profile, not that there was a chance anyone would figure out who she was. How could they? The trial might have been hot news in Chicago, but she was in a small town in Oregon.
As she peered into the pot of eggs, watching them spin over themselves in the water, her stomach growled. Soft-boiled eggs and toast had always been her favorite. She’d grown up on it. It was good old-fashioned comfort food, and right now she needed the comfort.
Ellie pulled the pot from the burner and was about to reach for a spoon, when the sound of crunching tires hit her ears. She stilled and listened carefully, but there was no mistaking the sound. It was a car, and it seemed to be coming down her little dirt road.
With the pot still in her hand, she rushed to the window.
“Oh my God,” she whispered. Her heart slammed against her ribcage and her mouth went dry. “This isn’t happening.”
But the writing on the side of the approaching white car clearly identified it as a sheriff’s vehicle. How in the hell had they found her?
When a tall man unfurled himself from the car, she stumbled away from the window, her empty stomach churning and her hands shaking so badly that the water sloshed over the side of the pot, scalding her hand.
Ellie thrust the pot back onto the stove as her head moved from side to side in denial. There was no way she was going back to Chicago. She couldn’t testify. She was as good as dead if she got on that witness stand.
Terror stretched its cold hands through every inch of her body, and when a knock came at the front door, she completely lost it and fled out the back.