Page 18 of Indigo Ridge (The Edens 1)

Maybe because I felt more akin to the tourists than the locals.

I slowed at a crosswalk, waiting for a couple to navigate the intersection. Between them was a little girl wearing a yellow jumper and an adorable smile. Her parents swung her between them after every count of one-two-three-yippee.

Once upon a time, I’d been that little girl.

“What is wrong with me today?” I shook my head, snapping myself out of the past, then I took the next side street on my route to home.

Mom and Dad had been a constant on my mind these past two days. Probably because I was in Quincy. Probably because so much had changed in just a week.

A new house. A new job.

Moving was the right decision, but that hadn’t made it easy. I missed my friends in Bozeman. I missed my old department and my coworkers.

Sure, I had Pops, and it was wonderful to see him every day. In time, I’d fit in here. But at the moment, being new felt a lot like being alone.

Was that why I’d slept with Griffin on Sunday?

I cringed for the hundredth time just thinking about his face at the restaurant.

Pops and Harrison Eden had chatted through the entire meal, carrying the conversation. Griffin had barely uttered a word. He’d simply sat there, glowering at his plate, while I’d forced a smile and done my best to make small talk with his father.

The tension radiating off of Griffin’s shoulders had grown exponentially over the meal. Regret had been so plainly written on his handsome face that I’d nearly faked a stomachache to escape.

Thankfully, he’d bolted first. The moment he’d finished his club sandwich, he’d excused himself from the table.

I was still mad at myself for checking out his ass as he’d walked away.

With any luck, a few months would pass before we bumped into each other again. Maybe by then I’d stop thinking about his naked body in the backseat of his truck.

Griffin Eden was a one-time mistake, and with any luck, not a soul in Quincy would find out I’d screwed him my first night in town.

My house was a single-story Craftsman painted dove gray with white shutters. I parked in the driveway and made my way up the brick porch steps to the red front door.

The door was the reason I’d bought this house—that and because there had only been three places on the market.

This two-bedroom, one-bathroom house was the perfect size for my simple life. I didn’t need a large yard. The extra bedroom would become my office because I didn’t need a guest bedroom—I rarely had guests.

I hurried inside and ignored the disaster that was the living room. Boxes crowded the couch in the center of the room. They’d gone untouched since Sunday because I’d spent every evening since reviewing case files.

My bedroom was in the same state—maybe worse.

On one side of the room, three suitcases were open, their contents spilling onto the hardwood floors. Somewhere under this roof there were hangers, I just had yet to find them. I dug through the closest pile of clothes, finding a new shirt, then stripped off my stained blouse, tossing it into the growing pile of laundry.

My new washer and dryer were arriving on Friday. The rest of the furniture I’d ordered had been delayed, so for now, my mattress was on the floor with my wardrobe.

Maybe tonight I’d search for the hangers. Maybe not.

Dressed and no longer smelling like stale coffee, I hurried outside and into the Durango, reversing onto the street. Then I retreated the way I’d come toward Main.

I was slowing at the intersection when a flash of red and blue streaked by, the wail of a siren splitting the air.

That was Allen’s cruiser.

I pulled my phone from the console, seeing nothing on the screen. He’d been doing paperwork today, not out on patrol, so where was he going? Something had happened. Why hadn’t anyone called me?

Instead of taking the left that would lead me to the station, I turned right, following Allen down Main. When he hit the edge of town, he punched the gas and shot down the road.

My heart hammered as I hurried to keep pace, driving with one hand while dialing into the station with the other.