Page 134 of Five Mountain Daddies

Hell, I’m not staying. I’ll tell Cora the truth then I’ll get the fuck out of town. I did what I said I’d do, and that’s the end of it. I don’t care if Cora Lewis is all grown up and fucking gorgeous now. Atticus isn’t my problem, notanymore.

I check myself in the mirror one more time, grab my keys, and headout.

3

Cora

Ibarely have enough time to change and get myself together before Wyatt shows upoutside.

I knew he’d look into what the police have on Atticus’s murder for me, but I didn’t expect him to do it so fast. I have to admit though, I’m nervous for a few different reasons as I open thedoor.

Wyatt practically fills the frame. He’s wearing faded jeans and a loose white button-down, tucked in. He looks both professional and gorgeous at the sametime.

“Mind if I come in?” hesays.

“Please do.” I step aside then lead him into thekitchen.

“Nice place,” hesays.

“Thanks.” My apartment is pretty small, just a little one bedroom in a converted house. I have the bottom floor and there’s another tenant upstairs, though I never seehim.

“Want something todrink?”

“Sure,” hesays.

“Wine?”

“Sure,” he saysagain

.I smile to myself as I open a bottle. I pour two glasses and hand him one. We clink and sip, and I watch him as he doesit.

Wyatt moves with purpose, which is something I’ve seen in other cops. But with him, it’s not obnoxious or practiced. Wyatt was a great athlete back in the day, and it really shows. There’s a lightness about him, almost a grace, despite his big, muscular frame. I’m only five foot four, and he’s almost an entire foot taller thanme.

“So, you talked to the cops,” I say tohim.

He nods. “Right down to business. I respectthat.”

I shrug, leaning up against the refrigerator. He sits on a stool next to the island. “I’ve been banging my head up against a wall with those assholes,” Isay.

He grins at me. “They’re just doing theirjob.”

I sigh. “I know. I get it, you’re a cop too. But still, I’mfrustrated.”

His smile falters. “I can’t blame you,” hesays.

“What did they tellyou?”

He glances down at his glass, not able to meet my gaze. “Not much,” he admits. “But I get the distinct impression that they don’t really care much about thiscase.”

“Fuck,” I say, anger welling throughme.

He looks up quickly. “They’re definitely investigating,” he says. “They have some leads. But there’s a bias againstAtticus.”

“I knew it.” I pace across the floor, angry as hell. “I fucking knew it. Just because Atticus had problems, they’re going to let his killer getaway.”

“No,” he says. “They’re not. They don’t want murderers running around thistown.”

I stop and look at him. “You just said they don’tcare.”

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