Page 61 of An Unfinished Memory

The house was no longer ours, but his slip made the warm glow inside me hotter. He was parked at a popular speed trap tucked into the deepest part of a curve in the road. If he shut his lights off, no one knew he was there.

“Sutton.”

Not a question. Not a plea. More of an “are you with me?”check.

My fingertips landed on my clit, and I groaned.

“That’s my girl,” he purred into my ear, and I was his for the rest of the night.

Wilder

I parked my patrol SUV outside the sheriff’s office, a wide brick building in downtown Buffalo Gully. The city offices shared the same space, along with all the county offices.

Ray wanted to meet with me and talk about his retirement. My thoughts should have been centered on adjusting to the job and what I could change to increase my chances of winning the vote in the next election, butmy mind preferred to center on Sutton. Over a week had passed since we had started a torrid texting affair that was often followed by phone sex. We’d made it a whole week and a half from ending our sex arrangement before launching a phone-sex relationship, but neither of us could help ourselves.

Hearing her fall apart on the other end of the line while I was fisting my dick paled in comparison to holding her. I hadn’t ventured bringing up the topic of going to see her again, but I planned to tonight, or she’d go on vacation, gain clarity, and write me off.

Each call, each text, I worried she’d come to her senses and realize we had to stop falling down the same rabbit hole that led to a dead end.

Would she let me go see her again?

The days she would be gone were like a gaping hole in my future. Before she left, phone sex. After she left…What?

I dug out my phone to stare at her message from last night for the eighteenth time. I’d unsubtly asked her about her practice-run camping trip, like I did every time she called.

Sutton: I think I can leave early. Maybe noon or one?

She’d be off, hauling her Coachmen behind her with Oreo in the pickup. He’d always liked road trips.

Noon or one. With the time difference, that was about four hours from now. She’d likely leave closer to noon. Her house might be cluttered, but her mind wasn’t. She’d be ready and leave as soon as she locked up the clinic.

Delilah and Guy were shuffling to the front door. Delilah was in a blouse with cotton pants and mismatched sandals like she’d rushed after Guy before he could leave alone. Guy was in plaid pajama pants and a stained white T-shirt. Shit. Had he woken up confused?

I got out and jogged toward them. “Hey, Mr. McCormick. What can I help you with?”

Relief crossed Delilah’s tired face, and I was glad to be in the right place at the right time.

Guy’s white brows crashed together. “My pickup got stolen.”

I nodded and pulled a small notepad out of my pocket. “What’s the pickup’s description?”

Guy blustered through, giving the exact description he always did.

“All right, sir,” I said, tucking the pen and notepad into my pocket. “The best thing you can do is go home and wait by the phone. I’ll be in touch when we get news.”

The pinch of his brows eased, and he nodded. “Thank you, Wilder.” He turned to shuffle back to their car parked in the lot by the courthouse.

Delilah shot me a grateful smile. I returned it and followed them to the car.

“I’d like to drive, Guy,” she said when he veered to get into the driver’s seat.

“Of course, dear,” he uttered and got into the passenger side with Delilah’s help.

She put a hand on my elbow when the door was shut. “Did I tell you we’re moving next week?”

The move was quicker than I expected, but Guy was deteriorating. I walked her around the front of the car. “Need any help?”

“No, but thank you for offering. You’ve done so much for us. I’m moving, too, and selling the house.” We stopped by the driver’s door, but she made no move to open it.

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