Page 45 of Wyoming Mountain Murder

“Been there and never really left.”

Carey chuckled. “I hear that. By the time I’m done, you’ll be unrecognizable.”

Chapter Nine

After an hour of tackle football, Brian was starving. He’d set a pot of water to boil while he showered. Only bothering to throw on boxer briefs and a pair of jeans, he finished making spaghetti and meatballs.

His preference would have been to wait for Charlie, but she was going to be at USD a while longer and he was hungry enough to eat cardboard.

He scarfed down the food and was wiping up the last of the sauce from his plate with a piece of garlic bread when his front door opened. If he’d known she’d be back early, they could’ve eaten together.

Swiveling on the stool to face her, he was about to apologize, but a fit of helpless choking stopped him. A stunning raven-haired woman, wearing a tad too much makeup, stalked past him, without a glance in his direction or saying a word.

“Charlie?” It was her...but didn’t look anything like her. He was off the stool and hurrying down the hall after her. “What is going on?”

“You don’t get to ask me questions anymore.” She stormed into the guest room, and he was on her heels.

“Clearly, you’re upset about something,” he said, keeping his tone calm. “Please tell me what it is.”

She grabbed her large travel backpack that could hold a week’s worth of clothes and fished around inside.

Up close, he got a better look at her. Thick black eyeliner drawn at an angle gave her sexy cat’s eyes. Crimson red lipstick popped against her creamy, porcelain skin. But it was the shoulder-length jet-black hair with cascading waves that he couldn’t stop staring at.

Why was she wearing a wig?

Brian caught her arm to stop her from whatever she was doing. “Hey. Talk to me.”

Finally, she glanced at him. Her gaze dipped to his bare chest. She faltered a second and then met his eyes. “I don’t blame you. It’s my own fault. I should’ve known better than to ever let a cop in my house, much less my life. I don’t know what I was thinking.” She jerked her arm free of his grasp. “That’s the problem. I wasn’t thinking. I was an idiot. Lost my head.”

Gritting his teeth, he wished they were speaking the same language. He was so confused.

“I know you’re afraid of this, Charlie,” he said, taking a wild stab in the dark at what the issue could be. “Of having a relationship. But you can’t run forever. One day you’re going to look around at your life and realize something huge is missing. By then, it might be too late.”

She yanked a black lace bra and something else from the bag. “A relationship?” she scoffed. “You think I’m running from you? That I’m afraid of what? Falling in love? Oh, please.” She pulled her T-shirt off over her head, revealing a sports bra and smooth, taut abs.

Lowering his head, he turned away. He’d been dying to get her undressed in a bedroom, but this wasn’t how he had envisioned it. “Then why are you angry?”

“I’m not angry. I’m furious,” she said, and he could hear her changing clothes. “I can’t believe I shared all that personal stuff with you. My past. My pain. That I let you in and put everything on the line. I trusted you. While this entire time, you’ve been playing me.”

“What are you talking about?”

Her high heels clacking against the floor, Charlie prowled around to stare him in the eyes. She’d changed into a low-cut dress that showed off the lace of her bra, exposed her trim, bare thighs and clung to her body like a second skin.

It was so short, was it even a dress?

“You’re friends with Seth Olsen,” she said through clenched teeth.

Brian swore under his breath. “I told you to stop following him.”

“So I wouldn’t see you two together, acting like bosom buddies. Go on, deny it. I dare you.” She marched out of the room, with her backpack slung over her shoulder. “You’re supposed to be investigating him. Not hanging out with him. How could you lie to me?”

The sharp staccato of her heels striking the hardwood rang in his head.

“It was an omission. I never lied to you.”

“I’m thirty years old. I’ve only been close to four people my entire life. My mother. Who was killed in front of me. Rocco and his parents. Even with them, it’s easier, safer to hold back.”

“Hold what back?”

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