Page 15 of Stormswept Colorado (Hart County #3)

FOURTEEN

Ayla

The snow started about a half hour into the drive. About the time we would’ve made it to Hartley if the weather were clear. But I actually didn’t mind that the trip was taking longer. Especially after that awful message had stirred up every old fear and negative feeling inside me.

Teller’s presence was comforting. I never would’ve thought I’d say that about a broad-chested, bossy police chief, especially not this police chief. But I liked being around him, now that we understood each other better.

He had a hero complex. But was that such a bad thing?

For the longest time, I’d felt like everything I’d built could disappear in an instant. My childhood had taught me that. I had money and fame, but that didn’t buy me peace of mind.

Ashford and I had a strong relationship now, but he was so busy with his family. Grace and Dane were also incredible friends, and Dane had even more resources at his fingertips than I did. But I didn’t feel comfortable sharing my deepest insecurities with them.

Could I share those things with Teller?

I still didn’t completely understand why Teller was so willing to help me.

But I trusted that he didn’t have any secret motives.

This was not a man who cared about social media exposure or getting his demo in front of a producer.

He cared about the people in his community.

His nephew and sister. He cared about being a good man.

You don’t have to be anyone with me except for yourself.

I rested my head against the glass to watch the snow. It fell in perfect snowflakes that collected below the window. Tiny crystalline structures, each one unique.

“I used to love when it snowed when Lori and I were kids.”

“Yeah?”

I picked up my shake and took a sip through the straw.

Creamy, pepperminty goodness hit my tongue.

The cold of the ice cream and brightness of the mint perfectly offset the richness.

“Lori used to save her lunch money all week and buy a mint chocolate chip ice cream sandwich on the way home from school on Friday. We always shared it. She didn’t even like mint, but it was my favorite. ”

“A good big sister.”

“She was.” Guilt poked at my heart, but it was an old feeling. A sadness that never fully went away.

“Where were you living then?”

Did he already know I’d been an Army brat and moved around a lot? That was a well-known part of my bio, though I never shared many details about it. “Our family lived on a lot of different bases over the years. You were a Green Beret, right?”

“Yes.”

“You were wounded.”

“I was. Received a medical discharge and came back to Colorado.”

Suddenly my throat went tight. I didn’t want to bring up bad memories for him, and I didn’t want to get into my own. This was why I didn’t usually talk about Lori or our childhood.

I’d been trying so hard to stay cheerful. To act like I was okay. But Teller made me want to open up about how frightened I was, and that only scared me more .

I needed my music. My safe space. “Um, I started writing a new song this afternoon. Do you mind if I work on it now? Would that be weird?”

His eyebrows lifted. “Not at all.”

I never did this. Sharing a half-finished song with someone I didn’t know well.

While I had no problem singing in front of a stadium of thousands, sharing my creative process was different.

Even with other songwriters I collaborated with, I liked to have a clearer vision in place first. But there was too much swirling around inside me, and I needed to channel it.

Somehow, I felt safe doing that with Teller here. Like he could be a safe space too.

Besides, we were stuck together for the next few hours. Couldn’t exactly ask him not to listen.

Reaching into the backseat for my messenger bag, I pulled out my laptop. I’d had it plugged in earlier, so it was all charged up. I opened it, using my fingerprint to unlock the screen. The songwriting software program was already open.

“Here’s what I have so far.” I pressed play, and the program played back what I’d composed earlier. I hummed along, then played it again while singing the few lyrics I’d come up with.

“It’s incredible. Really.”

I glanced over at Teller, feeling my skin heat.

This was why I didn’t normally share a song so early.

I’d written hundreds, yet every single one came from my heart.

It was a vulnerable place to be in. The praise felt good, but it was intense too.

Like the sun shining straight down on me. It could easily burn.

“It has a long way to go.”

“I’m sure it’ll be amazing when you’re finished.”

The corner of my mouth inched up. “Maybe you’ll want to add it to your workout playlist.”

He laughed quietly with his lips closed. “You got me there. I probably will.”

I was smiling as I got to work. It was surprisingly effortless to find a flow. I almost forgot Teller was listening. My fingers moved over the tablet screen, jotting down different lines as I sang them to try them out.

More of the song took form. Would’ve been better to have a guitar or piano in front of me, but this was the next best thing.

When I looked up after a while, snow swirled in gusts outside. The view had expanded into a gorgeous winter panorama. Evergreens dusted with white, a broad valley. Mountains rose to our right, obscured by heavy clouds.

A large truck rattled past us going the other way. There weren’t many other vehicles out. The heater was blasting, and yet the chill from outside made its way through the minute gaps around the door. The wind howled.

Teller had a look of serious concentration on his face. “That was beautiful,” he murmured. “The song you’re writing.”

His compliment sent a tingle of pleasure down my spine. “Thanks. I have tunnel vision when I’m working. How long have we been driving?”

“About an hour and a half. I promise I can handle the driving part. Just don’t ask me to write any music. Have you always been able to do that? Just…make it up that way?”

I grinned. “That’s how it works. Sometimes I have to agonize over the bridge or the perfect outro or a rhyme that doesn’t want to fit. But mostly, the music just comes to me, as long as I’m feeling inspired.”

“Impressive.”

“I appreciate you saying that. But to me, it’s more like…sleeping or eating. Something I have to do to survive. When I was a kid, music was my escape.”

Teller reached over and squeezed my knee, then quickly returned his grip to the steering wheel. His face morphed into a shocked expression, as if he hadn’t expected himself to do that. Touch me that way.

I hadn’t either, but I hadn’t disliked it.

Instead, a feeling of longing raced through me. Teller made my heart rate speed up, but in the best way. Because there was still that sense of comfort underneath. A gentleness even when he was rough.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

“I don’t mind if you touch me.”

His gaze slashed in my direction. “I should’ve asked.”

“You didn’t ask yesterday on Main Street when you carried me away from the fight. Or when you arrested me.” Or earlier today, even, when he’d found me upset over that email.

He was watching the road again. The tip of his tongue traced his lower lip. “Maybe touching you meant something different before.”

I sucked in a breath, unable to look away from him. Wanting his hand on me again. Wanting to confess things that I’d never told anyone, and why was that? I didn’t even know him.

Why did Teller Landry have such an effect on me?

Then a bunch of things happened all at the same time.

Teller cursed and swerved the steering wheel. I looked up to see a huge, dark shape on the snow-packed road. I screamed.

The SUV bucked hard, then slammed to a sudden stop.