Wet(8)

Katy dropped her notepad and padded softly to her door to listen. She heard something, something that sounded like shuffling, and glanced at her phone, thinking she might put a call in to Sheriff Brody McGrath. Jeez, it was so odd to think her childhood friend had become a sheriff. He’d raised more hell around town than any of them. But she didn’t want to disturb Brody. He seemed completely caught up in Andie, and they had enough on their plates right now.

She flicked her outside light on, inched her door open and peered into the night. When a cloud of smoke drifted by her face and the pungent aroma reached her nostrils, she flung her door open wider and rushed outside. She hurried around the corner of her rental and stopped short when she spotted Trent. He stood with his back to her, dousing the flames in her garbage can with a garden hose.

“Trent?” she asked hesitantly.

Startled and still holding the hose, he spun around, and Katy jumped back as he gave her an icy-cold bath.

“Oh Jesus, Katy. I’m sorry.” Trent dropped the hose and rushed to her.

Water dripped down her face, and she sputtered as she pulled her drenched nightie away from her skin. “What the hell is going on?”

“There was a fire…in…your…garbage.” His gaze kept going from the can behind him to her dripping wet nightie, which now settled nicely against her body and clung to her flesh like a second skin.

“Yeah, but why are you here?”

He grabbed his cell from his pocket, and shook it, as if that explained everything. When she continued to stare at him, he said, “I was on my way to the pub, and someone called and told me about the fire.” He jerked his thumb. “I could see the can burning from the street.”

“They called your cell? Not the department?” Beneath the exterior light, Katy scrutinized him, but that scrutiny quickly turned into a heated inspection as she took pleasure in his fine-tuned body. Her gaze flickered over his navy T-shirt and low-riding jeans that exposed tight muscles and hewn thighs—rock-hard thighs she’d love to feel wrapped around her.

Warm moisture dripped between her legs and she was pretty sure it had nothing to do with getting doused by that hose. Arousal punched into her gut and her nipples tightened painfully under the sensual assault.

Trent swallowed so hard the sound carried in the still night. “Yeah, I know how it sounds…” His voice fell off, and she could only guess why. His gaze dropped to her chest, and her sex fluttered as desire flitted over his face. “I…uh…someone is toying with me, Katy. I don’t know what’s going on but I damn well plan on getting to the bottom of it.”

It took a moment for Katy to find her voice. “How is someone toying with you?”

“I put out two fires at Dresden Bluff.” He frowned, and the worry lines deepened around his mouth. “And I didn’t even know you were staying here until the phone call brought me here to the fire…to you.”

At the mention of Dresden Bluff, Katy’s mind raced and fire pitched through her body. As Trent stood before her, staring down at her with those smoldering eyes of his, she did not want to think about Dresden Bluff, all the times they’d gone there, or the intimacies they’d shared.

“Oh,” she managed to say through chattering teeth as she wrapped her arms around herself to stave off a shiver.

Trent’s expression changed to one of tenderness as he stepped close and put his hands on her arms. He rubbed quickly, creating heat with friction. His voice dropped an octave when he said, “Look at you. You’re all wet.”

Oh God, he had no idea.

“Well, you’ve got pretty good aim with your hose,” she said, then realized how sexual that sounded. Jesus, Freud would have a field day with her.

He grinned, and let his glance race over her body, which was naked and exposed through her wet nightie. He fell quiet for a moment, but she didn’t miss the want in his eyes. As a hush settled over them, they exchanged a long, heated look, one that slid through her like a warm aphrodisiac and had her thoughts careening in an erotic direction.

Sexual tension grew heavy, thicker than the fog moving in over the ocean. Trent sucked in a breath and appeared to be waging some internal war. For a brief moment, conflicting emotions flickered over his face. When she spotted something dark, something remorseful in the depths of his eyes, she wondered what he was thinking. A frown touched his forehead as his glance trailed her curves one more time.

He exhaled slowly, shook his head as if to clear it, and broke the quiet by saying, “Let’s get you inside before you catch your death of cold.”

Katy gave a breathy laugh and felt some of the tension drain. “You sound like Grandma Margaret.”