Hunter s Moon - By Lori Handeland Page 0,23

wide turn that brought us around the back of the tavern. My gaze was captured by Damien's cabin, then by a flicker of white in the trees behind it.

He emerged from the forest, fully clothed for a change, and leaned against the corner of the building.

Our eyes met. He lifted his hand. My chest tightened as my belly danced with an excitement I hadn't felt for far too many years. I was in big trouble if the mere sight of him got me all hot and bothered. I needed to be very, very careful about how I handled Damien Ftizgerald and my inexplicable lust for him.

Jessie hit the gas and took off down Good Road at a steady clip. My teeth clicked together, narrowly missing my tongue as she flew over an incline. I forced my mind away from Damien, not an easy task, and back to our stalled conversation.

"What did Cowboy do that got him on the Crow Valley troublemakers list?"

"He's a fighter. I'd say classic Napoleon complex, but that would be too obvious. He likes to get drunk and kick ass, but he's not particular about whose ass he kicks - man, woman, child, dog, he's an equal opportunity Napoleon."

Note to self: Stay away from Cowboy.

We reached Main Street and Jessie headed toward her apartment. I'd seen the town in the evening. I hadn't been impressed.

By day, Crow Valley wasn't so bad. Clean, charming even, with necessary businesses and frivolous shops coexisting side by side.

"Coffee," I said in a desperate voice as we zoomed past the coffee shop.

"You don't want their coffee. Prissy latte crap at three bucks a pop?"

I turned my head and sighed as the coffee shop receded.

"Baby," she sneered. "You haven't lived until you've tried Cadotte's coffee. If you're nice, I'll have him make you some."

"An earring wearer and a coffee maker, be still my heart."

Her eyes narrowed. "I said be nice."

"I don't think I know how."

"Learn." She stopped the squad car in front of the police station. "I just have to check in."

"Isn't that what this is for?" I tapped the car radio.

"When it works."

Now that she said that, I hadn't heard even a flicker of static from the radio during the entire drive, let alone any call for One Adam Twelve.

She disappeared into the station. Curious, I followed, stopping so suddenly just inside that the door hit me in the ass.

"I've stepped into The Andy Griffith Show," I blurted.

The sheriff's office resembled the one in Mayberry. Desk, jail cell, telephone, filing cabinets. I half-expected Otis to be sleeping on the military-issue cot.

Jessie looked up from her desk and scowled. "Be thankful. Hardly anything ever happens here."

"Except the odd werewolf attack."

"There is that."

"And Cowboy's Napoleon complex."

"That, too." She pushed the button on her message machine.

You have no new messages.

"See?" she said.

"No dispatcher? No deputy?"

"If anyone needs me, they call my cell phone or they leave a message. No need for a dispatcher."

For some reason, that comment made her sad.

"And Barney Fife?" I asked.

"Elwood Dahlrimmple."

"You're kidding."

"I wish." She rubbed her forehead. "He's been here since... the stone age maybe. His hands shake more than a leaf in a windstorm."

"And you let him carry a gun?"

"Not with any bullets in it."

She was serious, and suddenly pretending to be with the Department of Natural Resources didn't sound so bad.

"Can't you fire him?" I asked. "I mean, you are the boss."

"Now why would I want to fire Elwood? Everyone knows him; they love him. They try not to cause problems while he's on duty."

"And he's too out of it to question what you're up to."

"Bingo. I don't need help being the sheriff of a town of four hundred."

"If they were just people."

"Now you're catching on."

"Which is where I come in."

"Never said you weren't smart."

Actually, I thought she had, but I wasn't going to bring that up.

"Let's go to my place."

Jessie was already at the door.

"How do you know Will's there?"

"Where else would he be? He's got work to do."

She turned out to be right. Will was home, sitting at the kitchen table, surrounded by papers and books.

More were strewn across the floor. His computer was up and running, printing pages even as he muttered and pecked at the keys.

His glasses were on top of his head; he squinted at the screen; a pencil rested behind each ear. What a geek.

I glanced at Jessie just in time to catch the dopey look of love cross her face.

I slammed the door. He jumped; she scowled.

"Honey, I'm home!" I called.

Will smiled,