He smiled at Lillian and rolled down his sleeves over pumped-up forearms.

During the night, as she’d kissed her way down his body, her lips had brushed over those powerful muscles. As she looked at them in the daylight, heat ran through her. The air seemed to turn thick and sultry.

When her gaze lifted, he was watching her, his expression unreadable.

She wanted him to hold her again. And…she wanted to run away.

Audrey averted her gaze. Because she was a smart woman, she’d choose option B.

And stay far, far away.

Chapter Ten

A couple of days later, the patrol car was starting to feel…almost homelike, Gabe thought as he drove down Sweetgale. He slowed.

With Julie beside her, Lillian stood on her porch, arms waving angrily.

Now, that looked like trouble. Gabe parked the car and jumped out. “Is there a problem here?”

Lillian didn’t even look at him. “You vile, scum-filled dunghill of metal.”

Gabe blinked. Whatever she’d just said, it was an insult; however, she seemed to be addressing the door. He gave Julie a puzzled look.

Julie’s hands covered her mouth. Her eyes were crinkled with laughter.

He did have to say that laughter looked damn fine on her. “What’s going on?”

“She locked herself out.”

“Thou art unfit for any place but hell.” Lillian kicked the door and turned. “Why hello, Chief MacNair. How are you this day?”

Here was an actress who’d spent too much time performing Elizabethan plays. “Good. I’m good. You’re locked out, I hear?”

The look she gave her door was scathing. “Vile, treacherous creation. If I had an axe…” Lillian turned to Gabe. “Can you break a window for me, please, Chief?”

That seemed a bit extreme. But, wait… The town had no locksmith. “No need for violence. How about I unlock the door for you instead?”

Lillian tilted her head regally. “That would be most convenient. Why do you have a key to my door, I wonder?”

“No key, ma’am. Hold on a minute.” Trying not to laugh, Gabe returned to the patrol car. As he opened the cargo door, he noticed the dust caked on the vehicle. Most of the roads in Alaska were gravel—or dirt—and he’d been driving everywhere, getting a feel for the town.

For his town. For someone who’d come just to clean the place up for his brothers, the sense of possession was fucking disconcerting but very real. If he were a dog, he’d’ve been lifting his leg and marking his territory.

After a quick rummage in his personal pack, he pulled out his old locksmith tools.

As he knelt in front of the door and opened the kit, Lillian’s eyebrows rose. “Did you indulge in burglary as a child?”

Actually, after Gramps died, he had. “I’ll take the fifth on that, thanks.”