Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 127949 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127949 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
Wow. He is good. He appeals to the sheriff’s sense of honor and trust, as well as making him think he’s giving me something special. My father knows his stuff. I’m not so much a Starbucks fan to be honest, but I know the drill and play along.
If the sheriff had been drinking a chocolate Milkshake from McDonald’s, that would have been my favorite thing. It’s all just clues and opportunity.
I see the veins in the sheriff’s forehead thicken as he takes a slow breath, filling the front of his chest as he ponders.
He swallows, exhales and drops his hands, his thumbs hooking into the heavy leather belt around his waist, then answers. “On one condition.”
“Anything,” Papa replies, another ceremonious bow, from his waist this time.
“I’m buying.”
“Very well. I need just one moment with my daughter before you go…family business.”
The sheriff’s eyes are flat but he raises his eyebrows in agreement and I already know what’s coming as my father guides me by the elbow until we are out of earshot.
“We have two days left here. You will do your job, keep his interest but do not allow him your virtue. Tease, play, lead him on…keep him under your thumb and distracted. Make him believe we are simple performers, do not take anything from him.”
My stomach knots, I hate when he makes me do these things. “But…” I start, but he waves at the sheriff, false humor in his eyes as he looks back at me, cutting me off.
“You will be relieved of your responsibilities for the next two hours. Your most important performance right now is to keep that sheriff on a leash, or you’re on rations or worse. Go, get your coffee, work your magic, dangle the prize in his face, then return here, but not before you make sure you secure seeing him for the day tomorrow. We need him out of the way, thinking of anything but his job. Now go and do your job.”
Chapter Five
Merrick
The drive to Starbucks goes by like a flash of lightning.
After I open the car door and Kezia takes a seat, a rush of adrenaline has my heart coming through my chest wall. Her scent is like nothing I’ve known before. Natural, innocent, with a sexuality that makes me feel like I’m sixteen again trying to talk down a hard-on with a mind of it’s own.
Her peach-shaped face has barely a trace of makeup, outside of the pink gloss that makes me think of coating her lips with the slick desire from between her legs. I inhale hard, making her draw into herself, and I can’t say I blame her.
I saved her from three presumptive assholes, only to have her cringing because I’m more than likely coming off as just another of the male species drooling after her.
I’m barely able to piece together a coherent sentence as she makes small talk while we drive, asking me about the town, how long I’ve been a sheriff and then finally giving up and falling silent, my one and two word answers making her think I probably don’t want to talk to her.
Wrong.
Her voice lights up places inside me I’ve never before allowed light.
“Guess we’re here,” she says, and I realize I’ve already put the cruiser in park and shut off the ignition, although I don’t recall doing either.
“Yeah,” I grunt, grabbing the door handle and hopping out.
Jesus, get your shit together. You’re buying her a coffee, not proposing.
My cock thickens at the mere suggestion as I come around the front of the car. She’s got her door open stepping out, still in bare feet, and I grip the top of the door and stand in the opening.
“Back inside,” I manage and she looks up at me with confusion in those haunting blue and brown eyes and I’m fucking melting.
But also hard as the steel barrel of a shotgun.
“I’m sorry?”
“Back inside,” I repeat, and she nips that lower lip again and nearly kills me. How can teeth in a lip make me want to come in my pants?
On a twist of her lips, she slips back into the seat, pulling her feet inside and pointing her cute-as-fuck toes as I close the door, watching her pull at the fingers of one hand with the other.
I count to three. Breathe, asshole, I say to myself, then re-open the door as she stares at me like I’ve got two heads.
“You should always have your door opened for you.” I swing it wide, stepping back with a sweep of my arm, inviting her out.
“Uhh…” She narrows her eyes, her pink lips battling back a grin. “Okay.”
She’s stepping forward as I look at the way her hips move under the worn fabric of her peasant skirt. It’s handmade, and I wonder for a second if she made it herself, and whether it was by choice or because that creep of a father of hers ordered her to do it.