It sheared like a bolt straight through him. He wanted her.
Was this him deciding to live again? Because where his mind went, his body eagerly followed. If he were honest with himself, he’d wanted to get to know her all along, had enjoyed learning about her. But what consumed him now was something else entirely.
It was desire.
He adjusted himself in his seat, racking his brain for idle chat.
This was no good. The woman had a boyfriend, for God’s sake. He might want Sorrow, but that wasn’t his decision to make.
The current station went to a commercial, and she reached over the console for the radio. “May I?” she asked.
He nodded, desperately trying to come up with some topic of conversation. “You like music?” Lame conversation, apparently.
“I like a little of everything. ” She zipped through, searching for a good song. The scent of her hair wasn’t so much flowers as it was flowery vanilla.
He cracked the window.
Cooking. That seemed safe enough territory. “Why do you cook?” It was the best he could come up with, though he could guess the answer. He’d tasted what Sully called pot roast.
But he was surprised when her answer was slow in coming.
“The kitchen is my solace,” she said finally. “It’s a place for me to go. You know, in my head. I mean, there’s not much else to do around the lodge. ” She gave a rueful laugh. “Though you’d never be able to tell with how crazy things have been lately. But usually it’s just me sitting long hours behind the desk, or cleaning the rooms—”
He shot her a look. “You clean the rooms? When do you sleep?”
She sighed, sounding older than her years. “It’s not like we have tons of people in and out of there. It’s not that much. Anyway, planning menus, all the kitchen prep…it helps me imagine trave
ling to a place. When I cook, tasting Indian curries, or stir-frying Chinese, it’s a way to visit there. In a way. ” She got quiet.
“You’ve never left Sierra Falls?” He cursed the disbelief in his voice—he would hate to think he sounded patronizing.
“Well, sure I’ve left,” she said quickly. “Class trips to Sacramento, San Francisco. That sort of thing. But real traveling…I guess that’s not in the cards for me. ”
He wanted to tell her she could determine her own cards. That she needed someone to help prod her father. Why Damien didn’t apply some friendly pressure on her behalf was a mystery. Hell, he’d been pressuring Bear on her behalf since the day their roof caved in. Billy wanted to say that and lots of other things, but instead he just kept driving.
She shifted in her seat, and he felt her eyes glued to his profile. “How about you?”
The bald way she’d asked it took him aback. “How about me?”
He gave a little laugh, but when he turned to catch her eye, he wished he hadn’t. She was watching him avidly, her expression serious, like she might be able to uncover something he hadn’t realized he’d been hiding.
He wanted her to turn and look out the window instead.
He wanted to reach across the seat and sweep the hair from her face. Then he’d take her hand and tuck it in his, to hold it nestled in his lap.
“You were a high-ranking police officer,” she said. “In Oakland. It must’ve been so exciting. ”
He put his entire focus on the road. That’d been another time. Another life. His voice was tight when he replied, “Exciting is one word for it. ”
“It must pale in comparison to what we’ve got going on in Sierra Falls. ”
He shot her another look. He was so in control in all aspects of his work. His whole job was getting people to confess to things they wanted kept secret. And yet Sorrow always caught him off guard, always got him talking—how did she manage it? “Hey, we were talking about you. How’d the tables get turned?”
She gave him a wicked smile that would’ve worked on any perp, in any interrogation room. “I’m not done with my questions yet, Sheriff. So you decided to leave gangs for grandmas?”
“Thank God. ”
“You don’t miss it?”