Page 1 of Luke (Rogue County Rangers #1)

Marie

I feel like I’m lost.

I haven’t driven down this road in years. In fact, last time I drove down the two-lane highway, I was heading the other direction certain I’d never be back. Life has a funny way of making you eat your words.

The funny thing is, it’s impossible to get lost on a two-lane highway with no exits. I can’t accidentally make a wrong turn or end up on the wrong road. There are no turns to make. There are no other roads.

That’s how I know I’m on the right track.

I’m on my way to Rose Haven, a small town quite literally in the middle of nowhere, Colorado. Not the fun, snowy, dream-vacation part of Colorado. Ranch country. Eighty percent of the land within the town border is allocated to ranches. The cattle outnumber the people, eight to one.

My mom is one of the few people living in Rose Haven that have nothing to do with ranching.

I’m not far from town, but I can’t tell exactly how close I am. There aren’t even mile markers on the road to guide me.

This highway did have markers at one point, but they’ve all been washed away or broken. The town never bothered to replace them because anyone driving out there already knows where they’re going, with the exception of me.

When I started my drive two days ago, I thought some kind of homing instinct would kick in but it hasn’t. The town could rise up out of the hills in a second or in an hour.

Most of the highway is outside the range of the cell towers. I’ll only get signal again once I get within five miles of town. There’s only one cell phone tower in Rose Haven. Only the main streets fall within its bubble.

My mother, who lives sixteen miles out of town, doesn’t own a cellphone. She doesn’t want one when her landline works just fine. If she calls someone and they don’t answer, she knows they’re in town.

It never takes long to find someone in Rose Haven. There are only so many places to go and no place to hide. That’s one of the reasons why I left.

I’ve spent the last six years in New Orleans. I went to college there and when I graduated, I couldn’t imagine leaving. New Orleans is the opposite of Rose Haven in every way. That’s why I love it. It’s loud, it’s colorful, and every day there’s something new to see.

There are places to hide in New Orleans.

Out of nowhere, a battered sign rises up down the road.

W elcome to Rose Haven . Pop. 3071.

Rose Haven takes up a surprising amount of space, though no one would ever guess it. I can drive an hour out of town and still be in the county. There’s nothing out there, but still.

The background of the sign was once a rich, deep purple. It clearly hasn’t been touched up since I left. The loopy, cursive lettering was once a rosy shade of pink but the sun’s bleached it into the color of a seashell.

I tighten my grip on the steering wheel. My knuckles ache from the pressure, but I don’t let up. I need something else to focus on.

Anxiety flutters in my chest as I fly toward the sign.

I press my foot down on the accelerator. My little Prius whirls as she zooms forward. Yes, my car is a She. Her name is Penny.

In my mind’s eye, I picture a barricade around the town border. It’s made of all my sour memories piled up on top of each other.

Once I pass the town line, I’ll be fine. I know this is all in my head. Nothing is going to stop me from seeing my mother, especially not the memories of all the pretty blonde bitches that made middle school and high school a living hell for me.

I don’t see the police cruiser until it’s too late.

I zoom by, cursing myself for not paying more attention. I slow down, but it’s too late. The cruiser’s lights come flashing on and the car pulls onto the road. I begin to pull over. My anxiety increases tenfold.

What’s a cruiser doing out here in the first place.

The car rolls to a stop behind me. The officer gets out. I can’t make out his expression under his wide-brimmed hat and sunglasses. There’s something familiar about him, but I can’t see enough of his face to nail down what it is.

I probably went to school with him. He looks about my age.

As he approaches my window, he takes off his hat and sunglasses. In my rearview mirror, I finally get a glimpse of his face. My heart slams against my ribs.

It’s Luke O’Donnell. I can’t believe I didn’t recognize him instantly.

His strong jaw looks even more chiseled than I remember. His wavy brown hair catches the gold light of the late afternoon sun. His eyes are like disks of jade.

He’s the most beautiful man to ever walk the earth. Heat floods my body when I look at him directly.

He knocks on the window, his smile stretching from ear to ear. He knows it’s me. I wonder if my mother told him I was coming back to town.

He starts talking the moment I roll down the window.

“Marie Richardson, as I live and breathe!” He slaps his hand over his chest. “I never thought I’d see you back here.”

“Hey, Luke,” I nod. I can’t make my voice sound natural.

I spent a good ten years head over heels in love with Luke O’Donnell. Now that he’s in front of me again, I realize I’m not as over him as I thought. I can’t look at him without imagining what it would be like to run my hands over his bare chest.

“Hey, Luke?” He repeats. “That’s all you have to say to your best friend?”

“I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch much,” I offer lamely. Truth be told, I’m surprised to hear him refer to me as his best friend. I thought I lost that title when I left.

It wasn’t bad enough to be in love with someone like Luke knowing I didn’t stand a chance in the world. It was even worse when he was my friend. My best friend.

In elementary school, he stood up for me when a few kids made fun of my weight. I’ve always carried a few extra pounds. I spent years of my life hating my body. That’s another thing that changed when I moved to New Orleans.

Despite a healthy relationship with my curves, I slowly felt the old self-consciousness trickle back in.

“Much?” Luke chuckles. “I haven’t heard from you since graduation. I ought to write you a ticket just for that.”

“How long have you been a police officer?” I ask.

“Ranger,” he corrects. “In case you forgot how we do things here, we’re called Rangers.”

I had forgotten. I’ve actively tried to think of home as little as possible since I left, but I can’t say that to Luke. He’s always been the Golden Boy. He wouldn’t understand.

“I heard about Alice.” My chest flutters when he says my mother’s name. “Doc says she’s driving to Denver for treatment.”

“Yeah, I’m going to take over driving so she doesn’t wear herself out. It’s a miracle she can still drive herself.”

“It is. We’re all rooting for her.”

“Thanks.” I blink away unexpected tears. “I should get going. I don’t want to keep her waiting.”

“Of course. Try not to speed, though. Gary Wiseman can see the whole highway from his porch. If he sees someone speeding, he’ll be at the station all day trying to wrangle up a posse.”

“Still?” I chuckle. “You’d think he’d have found something else to do by now.”

“Nope.” He pats the roof of my car. “Say hi to your mom for me. Don’t be a stranger while you’re here, either!”

I wave as I roll up my window, eager to get away before I can no longer hide the deep desire I still feel for him.