Page 47 of Lost and Found

“We’ll see if Dean picks them up first, but I am curious if they’ll stick with us the entire way. Any chance someone followed you to the Cosgroves’ this morning?”

She racked her brain for anything that didn’t feel right but came up empty. She’d had Matt in the car and had missed it if someone had followed her. “I don’t know. I was rushing and wasn’t paying attention.”

“No big deal.” Wes reached for her hand. “Don’t beat yourself up. You had no reason to be looking over your shoulder this morning.”

Prickles of awareness danced up her forearm.

He squeezed her hand, then pulled away. “Everything will be fine.”

She clasped her palms together, wanting to hold on to the sensation that was fading too quickly. Her mouth had gone dry.

Wes drove, all business, checking the mirrors, casually relaxed as though he hadn’t the slightest clue about the sparks he ignited in her. “Do you believe me?”

She liked how his much larger hand covered hers and the rough sound of his voice. Focusing on anything else wasn’t easy. “Sure.”

He glanced over, letting his emerald gaze linger, and she liked that too. Goosebumps rolled down her shoulders. Oh, God. This was too much. He was too much. They were in too small a space, heading into an emotional day and a night spent in a hotel.

Whatever thoughts she’d had about him, whatever made her stomach jump and flutter, she needed to ignore it all.

Bailey surreptitiously glanced at him. Traitorous pinpricks of awareness skittered down her back again. Even the inside of his truck seemed to erupt into strobing, sparkling light—or wait. No, that was a police light. A siren bleeped.

“Shit,” he muttered, signaling to change lanes.

He pulled over, giving the officer behind him as much space as he could, and rolled his window down as a trooper approached.

Wes placed his hands on the steering wheel. “Morning, officer.”

“Wes Wilder?”

Bailey’s stomach dropped.

The corners of Wes’s eyes tightened. “Yeah?”

“Dean Whitlow requested an assist. Said to tell you he got what he needed and he’ll be in touch.”

Wes relaxed. “Great news. Thanks.”

The trooper leaned over to get a better look at her. “Bailey Cosgrove?”

“Yes?” Her voice didn’t sound right. Too high-pitched. Too much disbelief.

“Are you doing all right, ma’am?”

“Yes,” she squeaked.

“All right then, drive carefully.” With that, the trooper returned to his cruiser.

Eyes wide, she twisted to watch the trooper go. “What just happened?”

“Dean got rid of our tail for us.”

“How does one just,” she snapped, “have the state police pull someone over?”

“No telling.” Wes signaled to merge back into traffic. He watched the mirrors until he had enough space to safely accelerate onto the interstate.

“Why didn’t Dean give you a heads-up?”

“Why would he? Tipping us off might unconsciously change the way I was driving. A lot can be told by the way someone accelerates, brakes, merges.” He shrugged like it was no big deal. “Now we’re good to go. No one’s following us, and short of another tail or someone attaching a tracker to my truck, it won’t be easy to pinpoint us on the highway again.”