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Jeremiah grumbled something unintelligible, then hung up. Grady would have to bust the man’s chops later, reminding him that teenage boys could be far worse than girls. Sara’s younger brother, Trent, was twelve, and their sister, Kennedy, was eleven. A whole lot of testosterone and estrogen would be flying around that house in another year or two—if there wasn’t already.

Leaving Rissa to finish her homework, he took the stairs up to his bedroom and closed the door behind him. Within minutes, he’d stripped out of his uniform and underwear and stepped beneath the hot water from the three showerheads in his en suite bathroom.

After he was elected sheriff and got a significant salary raise, he and Leah decided to update the bedroom, the two-and-a-half baths, and the kitchen in the Victorian home she’d inherited from her grandmother. She had put a lot of thought into the plans and worked closely with the architect, construction company, and interior decorator.

The results had been amazing. They’d spent many nights soaking together in the two-person Jacuzzi tub after their young daughter had gone to bed. He hadn’t used it since Leah’s death nine years ago.

Picking up a bar of soap, he lathered his hands and began washing the grime of the day off his body. His morning shower prepared him for whatever the day might bring. The one after work washed it all away, sometimes literally, sometimes metaphorically, allowing him to focus on the now.

Unbidden, Amanda popped into his mind, with her fiery hair and snarky mouth. He had so many ideas for that mouth, starting with a kiss to shut her up. His dick stirred at the thought. A sweet kiss would be just the beginning. She was all woman, and he appreciated every inch of her. He might be widowed, but he wasn’t dead yet.

It’d taken him a long time after his wife passed away to start noticing attractive women again and actually feel desire for them. There was nothing unusual about a man getting turned on by the sway of a generous pair of tits or a great ass, but reaching the point where he could enjoy looking without feeling guilty about it hadn’t happened overnight. He still missed Leah with every part of his heart and soul, but she wouldn’t have wanted him to mourn forever. In fact, she’d told him as much before the aggressive cancer had cut her life short just weeks after the diagnosis.

Taking a deep breath, he thought he could smell whatever perfume Amanda had worn the day before. It’d been light and intoxicating, and he'd almost asked her what it was called when he drove her home from court. It was one of the many things he wanted to learn about her, along with what sounds she made when he sucked on her neck, how flushed her cheeks got when she was turned on, and what she looked like when she came.

Before he knew it, his hand was wrapped around his hard cock. Bracing his other hand against the shower wall, he let the water pummel his back as he gave in to the urge and started to jerk off in earnest. It had been weeks since he’d masturbated, maybe longer. But something about Amanda had awakened a desire he hadn't felt in years, and he wouldn’t question it. Instead, he'd enjoy it while she was there.

He knew he couldn't linger long in the shower, so he fell headlong into his fantasy, imagining Amanda on her knees before him, looking up at him, water droplets clinging to her eyelashes. She opened her mouth, inviting him in and begging for him to fill her up.

Slick with soap, his fist moved faster. Pleasure raced through him, his muscles and balls drawing taut. He was already on the verge of coming. The image of Amanda sucking, licking, and tasting him burned into his mind, and that was all it took. He exploded all over his hand and the wall, his knees trembling with the force of his orgasm. His breath punched out of his lungs as his heart raced like a stallion.

He groaned. “Fuck.”

If the real thing was even half as good as his imagination, Amanda just might kill him. But, oh, what a way to go.

Chapter Eleven

Lounging on the couch, Amanda ended another call with her assistant—the third of the day. She’d spent most of it talking the high-strung man down, reassuring him that she would be back in L.A. once her community service was finished and that she wasn’t going to be murdered in the wilds of Wyoming. Yeah, it was rural and quiet, but it wasn’t The Hills Have Eyes kind of place. Not surprisingly, she never thought she’d have to defend Antelope Rock to anyone.

As she mulled over what to make for dinner, a knock came at the front door.

“Now what?” she murmured, then rose to see what new merry hell was about to fall upon her. Hopefully, it would just be one of her aunt’s friends stopping by to say hello. Since Amanda had arrived, at least one person a day had come by to see how Edith was doing and ask if either of them needed anything.

On the other side of the screened door stood a blonde woman in her late teens or early twenties, holding a brightly wrapped box. Amanda pushed the door open. “Hi. Can I help you?”

“Hi. You’re Amanda Sparks, right?”

A little apprehension crept in. She knew few people in Antelope Rock and didn’t recognize the stranger. God, talking to Fen had her imagining psychotic fans showing up at the front door. The young woman before her looked far more likely to be a victim in a horror flick than a crazed stalker.

She mentally rolled her eyes. “Yes, I am.”

“Great. This is for you!” She handed over the package, which Amanda took reflexively. “Bye! Have a great day, Ms. Sparks!”

The overly-cheerful, nameless girl waved and bounded down the porch steps, her ponytail swinging, before Amanda could say anything else.

“What in the world?” Even more perplexed, she carried the delivery into the living room to show her aunt.

“Who was that?” Aunt Edith asked.

“No idea, but she said this was for me.” Holding it up for her aunt to see, Amanda sat down again and studied the sticker on top of the mystery box. Her name was scrawled in heavy block letters, but there was no other clue as to who had sent it.

“Well, are you just going to stare at it all day, or are you going to open it?”

“I’m thinking about it.” Amanda was somewhat accustomed to receiving gifts from people she didn’t know—it came with her celebrity status. Maybe someone in town had recognized her and wanted to welcome her? As quickly as the thought crossed her mind, she dismissed it.

“Am I going to die of old age waiting? The suspense is killing me.”

She snorted. “Keep your support hose on—I’m getting there.”