From the Shadows (Buckhorn, Montana #2) - B.J. Daniels Page 0,84

“I wouldn’t be surprised to find out he sent the invitations.”

“Guess it doesn’t matter now,” she said and looked off into the distance. They were quiet for a long while, both staring up at the night sky.

“Did you see that?” he said, excitement in his voice.

She had. She’d made a wish on it—just as she had as a girl. “I haven’t seen a falling star in so long because of living in the city. I’d forgotten what the sky was like here. I’ve missed it.”

He stepped to her. “I hope you made a wish.” She didn’t move, didn’t breathe as he closed the distance between them, between their lips. He kissed her gently, only their mouths touching for a few moments before he cupped the back of her head with his hand, his fingers burrowing deep in her long hair as he drew her even closer and deepened the kiss.

She breathed him in, relishing the feel of his mouth, the taste of him on her tongue, the strong, male feel of his body molding to her own soft curves. She sighed contentedly as he slowly drew back to look at her as if he’d never seen her before.

* * *

“THE MOON,” CASEY SAID on a gasp, making him turn to look over his shoulder. A huge silver moon rose up over the black silhouette of the mountain. She sounded as if the sight had taken her breath away—just as she had when he’d kissed her.

He wanted to take a mental picture of this moment and keep it always, as he put his arm around her and they watched the moon rise from the dark depths.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered, snuggling against him.

“No more beautiful than you.” He couldn’t bear the thought of letting her walk out of his life—not even temporarily. “Dang, I’m going to miss you,” he said, his voice sounding husky.

“Finn—”

“I know,” he said quickly. “You’ll be safer away from here, and I know it’s what you have to do.” He didn’t want her to go, but he had to let her. He wasn’t even sure what his plans were for the future. He now owned a hotel in Buckhorn, Montana. He still had no idea what he would do with it. Maybe give it to the town and let them do with it what they pleased. The idea appealed to him.

But tonight, he would try to make it last as long as he could. “You realize that if we don’t go look for that bottle of wine soon...”

Casey nodded as if she knew exactly what would happen. She wouldn’t have minded in the least.

“Fortunately, the night is young,” he said with a laugh. “To the wine cellar.”

They went down to the lobby. Finn watched her go through the keys.

“That’s odd. It isn’t here,” she said.

He’d already looked, so he wasn’t surprised as he followed her into the office. She used the key on the ribbon around her neck and opened a desk drawer and pulled it all the way out. A key was taped to the bottom of the drawer.

“My grandmother was always losing her keys. She had an extra made.” She shrugged. “We’re probably going to find the wine cellar empty since someone has the original key, but maybe we’ll get lucky.”

He’d already gotten lucky when this ridiculous idea of searching for Megan’s killer had led him to Casey. But as they started to venture down into the basement, Casey couldn’t get the key to work.

Frowning, she turned to face him. “Someone changed the lock.”

“Well, I guess that takes care of that,” he said.

“No. Why would someone do that? Can you bust down the door?”

He laughed. “If you’re thinking I’m going to rear back and crash into that door with my shoulder... I saw something in the kitchen. Stay here.” He returned moments later with a variety of tools, including a flashlight.

It didn’t take him long to break the lock. As the door swung open, he looked down into the dim abyss. “You sure about this?”

“I used to hate being sent down to get wine,” she said, but he could tell by the look in her eyes that she wasn’t going to let that stop her. Clearly she was curious why someone had put a new lock on the door. So nothing was going to stop her.

They dropped down the stairs into a labyrinth of tunnels that carried pipes and conduits, the ceilings low, the smell old and damp with a hint of putrid. He’d known he