Page 2 of Beneath the Blue Moon
Fiery red hair frames her heart-shaped face, and long lashescurl over emerald-green eyes.Full breasts heave as she breathes heavily.Hersmall waist flares out to generous hips, leading to long, shapely legs coveredby jeans that fit a little too snugly.She bites down on her full bottom lipnervously.A lump rises in my throat, and for the first time in my adult life,I’m speechless.I stare at her, desperately fighting every instinct to pull herinto my arms.
“Sheriff?”
Her voice.It’s like a song I’ve never heard but know thelyrics to—one that’s already my favorite.Answer her, you idjit!Saysomething!I clear my throat, standing when I remember my manners.
“Yes, ma’am.Sheriff Ethan McKenzie.Come in, have a seat.”
“Sheriff, I know I may sound hysterical, but you don’tunderstand.”Her breath catches and tears pool in her eyes.The need to comforther burns through me.“My dad… He’s schizophrenic.Sometimes he doesn’t knowwho he is, let alonewherehe is.He could be out there lost and scared.I need to find him.”
Damn.“We’ll find him, Miss…?”
“Bryan.Casey Bryan.”She takes a seat in the chair oppositemy desk, helplessly wringing her hands.“His name is Luke and I’ve already circledthe town twice looking for him.”
“Are there any friends he may have visited, places he likesto go?”I ask.
“We’re new here; he doesn’t know anyone.”
“Okay.Don’t worry,” I assure her.“Everything’ll be fine.”
***Casey***
Everything’ll be fine.For some reason, his wordsgive me comfort.At least he didn’t throw me out.Looking around his office, I cantell he’s no backwoods-town sheriff.Ethan Matthew McKenzie.Certificates andawards decorate his walls, even a degree in criminal justice.It hangs rightnext to his awards for marksmanship.I have to remember never to get into a gunfight with him.He’s educated and obviously good at his job.He looks young,though; too young to be a sheriff.I watch as he picks up his radio and speaksinto it.
“Boys, do me a favor and look out for an elderly man,possibly wandering around.Name’s Luke Bryan.I got a very worried young ladylooking for her daddy.Over.”
A voice answers, “Roger that, Sheriff.”
“Sure thing,” another voice chimes in.
“He was wearing a green sweater,” I offer.
He nods and then turns back to the radio.“Me again.He waslast seen wearing a green sweater.Over.”
“What now?”I ask.
“Why don’t I drive around a little, see if I can find him?”
“Let’s go.”He gives me a disapproving look, and I return oneof my own.“I’m the only one who can calm him down.You’ll just scare him more.”
Sighing, he shakes his head in resignation.
“Okay, Miss Bryan.Let’s go.”
***Ethan***
I glance over at her as she stares ardently out the window,searching for her father.Shit, that’s what I should be doing, too, not oglinga distressed woman.I can’t help it, though.Every fiber of her being iscalling out to me.In the close confines of the patrol car, her scent is almostoverpowering.I had to put the windows down to ease the effects, but it hasn’t reallyhelped.I want to touch her.Ineedto touch her.My fingers areitching—no,burning—to connect with her skin.
“Come in, Ethan.”
I jump at the sound of the radio, like a kid who got caughtwith his hand in the cookie jar.
“Go ahead, Charlie,” I tell my deputy.
“I think I’ve got eyes on your guy on a park bench by thegardens.”
Casey snaps around toward me, biting nervously on herthumbnail.
“Roger that.Keep your eyes on him butdonotapproach.I’m on my way.”
