Maybe tomorrow I’d learn how not to be perpetually late. Today was clearly not that day.
As I scurried down the sidewalk, I sent my landlord a text apologizing for being late and promising to be there soon. Then I tucked my phone away, pinned my purse beneath an elbow and ran toward my Rover.
Mom had always teased me for getting lost in my own head and misplacing time. Dad had been the same way.
Except I hadn’t been lost in my head.
I’d been lost in Calamity.
Located in the heart of southwest Montana, my new hometown had charmed me instantly. Calamity was nestled in a mountain valley surrounded in all directions by towering indigo peaks. There wasn’t much to the town itself, as the internet had promised—I’d driven from one end to the other in less than five minutes.
But I didn’t need a sprawling metropolis. After an hour of walking up and down First Street, I’d realized the quaint rural setting suited me fine.
I’d instantly fallen in love with the easy pace. No one rushed down the sidewalks. People smiled as you passed them. In every store I’d explored today, the clerks had welcomed me to town and asked for my name.
My landlord had promised Calamity was a friendly place. She’d boasted about the stunning, short summers and sunny, albeit cold, winters. How everyone would be so happy to have a young, fresh face in their community. I’d thought she’d been blowing smoke up my ass just to get me to sign the lease agreement.
Calamity was everything she’d pledged and more.
Which was why I’d spent much too long exploring instead of meeting her on time to pick up the keys to my rental house.
Sweat beaded at my temples by the time I reached my car and hopped inside, rolling down the windows instead of using the air conditioning. Then I reversed out of my spot like my wheels were on fire and raced down the road.
The air whipped through my hair. The sun warmed my face. And the smile that stretched my mouth had staying power.
This is going to work. I felt it in my bones.
Calamity was located two hours from the nearest town of any size. It would be easy for me to hide here, living as Jade Morgan. In all my wandering, I hadn’t seen a flicker of recognition on anyone’s face.
According to my internet research, there were roughly two thousand people living in Calamity and the surrounding valley. I could convince two thousand people that I was a nobody, just a single woman, new to Calamity, who’d rented a two-bedroom home on the outskirts of town. I didn’t have to find a job because I was planning on telling everyone I worked from home. I’d pay cash whenever possible and simply blend in.
My foot pressed the accelerator as I glanced between the road and my GPS. In one mile, I’d take a left and in less than three minutes I’d be—
The wail of a siren filled my ears. Blue and red lights greeted me in the rearview mirror. My foot lifted off the gas pedal, but it was too late. As I slowed and veered for the shoulder, so did the imposing police truck behind me.
This was bad. This was really, really bad. “Shit. Why am I so stupid?”
My heart pounded as I came to a stop, shoving the Rover into park. With trembling hands, I reached for my purse in the passenger seat and rifled through it until I found my wallet.
Why couldn’t I have just been on time for once in my life? A speeding ticket my first day in Calamity was not blending in. And if my name ended up in the local police report, my stay here would be much, much shorter than planned.
The officer’s footsteps approached my door cautiously. Through the side mirror, I couldn’t get a good look at his face, but I didn’t miss the black gun on one hip and shining badge on the other.
“I’m sorry,” I blurted the second he was close enough to my open window to hear. “I was late and—” The words disappeared as I looked up and saw blue.
“Jade?”
I blinked. “Duke? What are you doing here? I thought you were from Wyoming.”
“I grew up in Wyoming, but I live in Calamity.” He shook his head, clearing the disbelief from his expression. Then his gaze narrowed and intensified. “License, registration and insurance, please.”
“Right.” I pretended like the sharp, impassive edge to his voice didn’t sting.
Maybe I’d misread that parting moment in the park. Maybe he’d just been a nice guy helping two tourists to their car, and the attraction here was one-sided.
My fingers fumbled with the plastic as I yanked my license out of my wallet, and I nearly dropped it as I handed it over.
“I’m sorry I was speeding.” Please, please don’t notice. I gave him my most innocent eyes, silently begging for him to hand me back my driver’s license and forget this whole thing.
No such luck.
Duke studied my license, his eyes flicking between me and the plastic card. Then his jaw clenched and he put both of his hands on the windowsill. “Ms. Morgan. Lajade, right? Or should I call you Lucy Ross? As in the famous country singer Lucy Ross.”
I cringed. “I can explain.”
“Yeah. I think you’d better start talking.”
“Sheriff Evans.” I gave him my sweetest smile. “What would you say to a bribe?”
Chapter Two
Duke
“I’d say no.” A bribe? What the hell?
Her smile vanished. “I had a feeling you’d say that. Shit.”
“What’s going on”—I looked at her license one more time, just making sure I’d read her name correctly—“Lucy?”
“I swear I can explain everything.”
“I’m waiting.”
Her emerald-green eyes flicked to the clock on the dash. “I’m late. That’s why I was speeding.”
Goddamn, I hated traffic stops. There was always an excuse. As a general rule, I didn’t bother with speeding tickets, leaving traffic for my deputies, but when I’d seen Lucy’s Range Rover racing down First like a rocket, I hadn’t been able to let that slide. It was early August and we had kids on summer break roaming freely.
“Late for what?” I asked.
“I’m supposed to meet my landlord.”
“You’re moving here?”
“Yep. I’m your newest constituent.”
Well, fuck. As the sheriff, I didn’t really need a famous singer in town, drawing attention to the quiet and simple life I worked hard to maintain. But as a man, it was hard not to keep my heart from beating a bit faster.
Lucy Ross.
How could I have missed this earlier? How could I have not seen the resemblance in Yellowstone?
Probably because I’d been too busy keeping my physical reaction in check. That, and the changes she’d made to her appearance were effective.
Her hair was nearly black. The dark strands suited the color of her creamy skin and the dusting of freckles on her nose. Gone was the blonde I’d seen on a tabloid magazine cover when I’d gone to get my hair trimmed at the barber last week. Lucy’s eye color was the real deal, but without the colorful eyeshadow and black liner, their shape seemed different. They were innocent and natural. Mesmerizing.
Seductive.
There was no flash in this version of Lucy. She was simply a raw beauty. Her nose was straight and slightly turned up at the end. Her lips were a soft peach color that matched the natural flush of her cheeks. Hell, even her ears were attractive with tiny points at the tips.