Page 26 of Sear
After changing out of her uniform, she poured herself a glass of ice water, grabbed a book, and went outside. There, she sat on her porch to watch the sunset and unwind.
As she let the peaceful sound of the wind sighing through the trees wash away the accumulated stress from her day, her thoughts kept returning to Lucas.
Spurred by her suspicions about his pickup and his comments about wanting to go bear hunting, she’d spent the last hour of her shift, which was set aside for writing up reports at the station, running a database search on him.
To her surprise and relief, the results returned zilch for any kind of criminal record for Lucas Winter of Boise. He’d apparently never even been ticketed for a traffic violation.
And given that he’d lived in Idaho all of his adult life, there was no obvious pre-existing connection to Bickham, who hailed from the Salt Lake City, Utah area.
So, what was Lucas doing hanging around a lowlife like Bickham?
Maybe Lucas isn’t really a bad guy, just someone with poor taste in friends.
Malia knew plenty of people like that. They believed everyone was a good person until proven otherwise. The thought made her feel a lot better about her attraction to him.
The sun sank below the mountain ridge, leaving behind a band of gold that darkened to orange and red higher up in the sky. Malia was trying to convince herself to stand up and prepare that salad when she heard the sounds of an approaching vehicle.
A moment later, Lucas’s white pickup pulled up and parked in front of the neighboring cabin.
He emerged from his truck holding a large brown paper bag marked with the Wildcat Springs BBQ logo.
She couldn’t keep her eyes off him—or his nice ass that his jeans so lovingly molded—as he walked to the cabin’s front door.
Before she could tell herself that it was a Bad Idea, she called out, “Hey, Lucas! Would you like a beer with your takeout?”
His head whipped around. “Malia?”He gaped at her. “What areyoudoing here?”
“I live here,” she said.
She couldn’t help smiling at him. And she was very glad that she’d changed into one of her sundresses instead of her raggedy jeans shorts and an old t-shirt.
He stared at her for a moment longer, then gave her that heart-stopping grin. “In that case, I’d love to join you. And I have more than enough dinner to share, if you like barbecue.”
“I love barbecue,” she informed him as he crossed the space separating their cabins. “And Justin’s is the best place to get it.”
“Justin’s the owner of Wildcat Springs?” Lucas asked, hefting the takeout bag as he climbed the steps to her porch.
“Yup. He’s a sabertooth shifter from Texas. He married the head of the Swanson clan way back when. Everyone in town loves his food.”
“Count me in as his newest fan,” Lucas said, putting the bag down on the porch table. “I had the spareribs last night. Tonight, I decided to add the smoked brisket and sausage combo to my order, even though I’m going to have a ton of leftovers.”
Malia’s mouth watered.
Heck yeah, I want some of Lucas’s sausage,she thought. And instantly felt her cheeks go hot.
Whatwasit about him? She rarely had this many dirty thoughts in a row!
“I hope you got the mac and cheese as one of your sides.” She hoped she didn’t sound off-kilter. “Everything’s really good, but the dish isoutstanding. In fact, when I was a kid, Justin would bring me an extra bowl of it no matter what sides my parents ordered with our meals.”
Lucas gave her an unreadable look. “And now that you’re old and wise, what do you order?” he joked as he began pulling containers of food out of the bag.
His tone implied that he thought she was still a kid. That rankled.
“Mac and cheese, of course. I’m old and wise enough to know that it’s still the best thing on the menu,” Malia countered. She rose from her comfortably cushioned wicker chair. “Let me get you that beer.”
Despite her mild annoyance at Lucas’s remark, her wolf was excited as she went into her cabin.
He brought you food! He’s courting you!The beast bounced around the inside of Malia’s head like a puppy as she pulled open her fridge.
