Page 99 of Chasing Shelter

“Painting my nails. What does it look like, Chief?”

A second later, the soil was being hoisted from my arms. “You could seriously hurt yourself.”

I glared up at the six-foot-something sheriff holding the massive bag with ease. “It’s annoying how easy that is for you.”

One corner of his mouth quirked up. “I’ve got some inches and pounds on you.”

Did he ever… And that was annoying, too. Or maybe it was the fact that our alone time had been nil since that moment at Haven. A stolen kiss or touch here or there, but that was it. Time with Keely, callouts and extra shifts, and one emergency trip to the vet after Gremlin ate an unidentified mushroom on a walk had interrupted any attempts at some good old-fashioned one-on-one time. And my sexual frustration was reaching epic proportions.

“Where do you want this?” Trace asked, breaking into my grumpy thoughts.

“By the front porch,” I grumbled.

As we walked in that direction, Trace’s steps slowed. “Whoa. You know, it’s not nice to show up your neighbors with a full fall décor installation.”

I took stock of the dozen or so pumpkins currently lining my front porch steps. “You really aren’t going to want to look in the back then.”

Trace chuckled as he set the bag of soil down. “Go big or go home?”

I rocked from my heels to my tiptoes, taking it all in and wondering if I’d gone too overboard. I hadn’t even added the potted flowers yet.

“Hey,” Trace said, moving into my space and wrapping an arm around me. “It looks great. I was just giving you a hard time because we haven’t even gotten pumpkins yet.”

I tugged my lip between my teeth. “I never got to do this growing up. My dad always had a company come in and decorate for fall and Christmas.”

Trace muttered a curse and pulled me closer. “Giving yourself the things you never got.”

I nodded.

“Well, we’re doing your place to the nines, and then you can help me and Keely do ours. Twice the Halloween, twice the fall, twice the cheer.”

He sounded so pissed off about it all I couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled out.

Trace pulled back, scowling down at me. “What?”

I only laughed harder. “That’s maybe the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me, but you sound so angry about it.”

Trace brushed the hair from my face. “Blaze, I’m angry at everything that was stolen from you. Rites of passage and experiences that should’ve been yours. And I’m pissed as hell that you were too scared to ask for what you wanted.”

I stretched up on my tiptoes and brushed my lips against his. “Not scared now.”

Trace took my mouth, his tongue sliding in, teasing and toying. I pressed myself against him, relishing the feel of his strength. My phone dinged, but I ignored it. Then it let out three more alerts.

I growled against Trace’s mouth as I pulled back. “I need a Do Not Disturb setting for life.”

Pulling out my phone, I unlocked the screen. I had eight new text messages, each from a different number, and all including a photo.

As I opened them one by one, my heart pounded faster, ice sliding through my veins. Pictures of me. Leaving my house. Walking Grem. Working at The Mix Up. Poking around in shops downtown. At dinner with the girls.

And each image had a message. Cruel and taunting things.

YOUR LIFE IS PATHETIC.

YOU’RE NOTHING.

GO HOME OR ELSE.

And then pure fury sounded from beside me. “What in the actual fuck is that?”

---