Page 94 of Stormswept Colorado

“Yeah. You?”

I nodded. I was lying against my pillows with the overhead lights dimmed. It felt intimate, the two of us in our beds and talking quietly.

The position reminded me of being in bed with him at the Last Refuge Inn. Naked beneath the covers.

Talking with him was wonderful too, though. This was almost perfect, actually. Just getting to see him, hear his voice, know what he was thinking about. This feltright.

I really liked him.

Before I knew it, hours had passed. I yawned. “We’ve talked almost all night. Don’t you need to go to bed?” I asked.

“I don’t like saying goodbye to you.”

“Me neither.”

We were both lying on our sides, facing one another through our cameras. Like he was really here with me.

“There’s something I should tell you,” he murmured.

I nodded sleepily. “Yeah?”

“I’ve…” He swallowed. “I’ve never felt like this.” His voice was deep and rough. “I’ve been distracted at work. Downright impossible, if you ask Susan. You’ve got me so messed up, Troublemaker. I don’t know what to do with myself.”

His desperate tone. The look in his eyes. It was like the straight-laced, confident, fearless police chief was coming apart at the seams.

I felt it too. But I’d had no idea Teller was feeling this torn up aboutme. It made me ache that he was hurting.

“Then what do we do?” I asked.

“I’ll work on figuring it out. If you’re willing to give me a shot.”

I hardly knew what we were talking about. We both felt something for each other. That was clear. But what was he hoping for?

“A shot at what, exactly? Another hot weekend together? Because we’d end up with the same problem.”

And it might hurt even worse. Being that close to him again, just to say goodbye. I’d never felt like this before either.

It scared me.

He blinked those thick lashes at me. Teller conveyed more sincerity in a single glance than anyone else I’d met.

“No, Ayla. I want a shot at winning you. To make you mine for as long as you’ll have me.”

THIRTY-ONE

Ayla

Teller wanted towin me.That sounded romantic. But I didn’t know exactly what to expect.

Until he showed me.

The next few weeks were amazing. And also the worst kind of torture.

He texted religiously every morning and night, and sometimes in between. Mostly with sweet messages likemissing you more than ever today. Or pictures from around Silver Ridge. Like melting icicles on the eaves of his house. Maisie and Ollie clutching cups of hot chocolate in their mittens. Or Stella the dog prancing through snow.

At night, after my usual calls with Maisie, I called Teller and chatted with him, sometimes for hours. A few times, I’d gone to sleep to the sound of his deep, melodic voice and had the most relaxing, comforting dreams.

The rest of my days were spent in the recording studio. Either mine at home, or the Ruxton Records studio in Santa Monica, where I’d started to share my new songs with my producer and favorite collaborators. Everyone was thrilled with what I’d come up with so far. Together, we’d actually finished a couple of thecompositions, though I still wasn’t completely satisfied with them.

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