Page 36 of When He Protects

She jumped. “Fine. But be careful. And don’t be afraid to shoot if that is, in fact, a bad guy at the door.”

Oh, sweetness, I never am afraid.

Then she surprised the hell out of him by leaning forward and pressing a quick kiss to his lips. Esme bounded away in the next moment—moving in absolute silence as she headed for the kitchen. He strode for the front door. But he pulled out his phone before opening that door. He tapped a few times and had the front porch video feed popping up on his screen.

And Tyler instantly recognized the SOB on his doorstep.

Eyes narrowing, Tyler tucked the gun into the back waistband of his jeans. He disengaged the alarm and hauled open the door. “What in the hell are you doing here?”

The man on his porch raised a large welcome basket. “Hi, friend. Long time, no see.” He thrust the basket into Tyler’s arms. “Welcome to the neighborhood.” He smiled at Tyler, and the badge on his chest gleamed in the sunlight. A gun was holstered at his hip. “Thought I’d come by and introduce myself to your new wife.”

Sheriff Clay Banks. Tyler knew him well.

“Get your ass inside,” Tyler groused.

The sheriff got his ass inside. Clay kicked the door shut and surveyed the scene even as Tyler dumped the basket onthe nearby, still cloth-covered entrance table. White cloths covered basically every piece of furniture on the lower level of the house.

A low whistle came from Clay. “You’re in town one night and you’re already in the dog house?” He motioned toward the pillow and blanket on the floor. “What kind of wife has her husband sleeping on the floor on their first night in town? Huh.” He sawed a hand over his jaw. “If I didn’t know better, I would think you weren’t involved in a real marriage. That this might just be some crazy setup.”

“Don’t be a dick.” Did it look like he was in the mood for the sheriff’s crap?

“Where is the mystery wife? I would love to meet—” Clay’s words stopped. Mostly because Esme had just strolled out of the kitchen.

Hadn’t Tyler told the woman tohide?A direct order, one she’d ignored. They really needed to discuss the meaning of the termnon-negotiable.

Because there she was. Looking sexy and charming with her smile and…

Shit.She had a massive butcher knife gripped in her hand, and Esme was heading straight for the sheriff.

Chapter Eight

“Sweetheart!”Tyler jumped into her path. “I thought you were busy in the kitchen.” He reached out and his fingers curled around hers as she gripped the butcher knife.

“Sweetheart,” she cooed right back at him. “I thought you might need me out here.”

“Got it all under control.” He tugged the knife from her.

She let him take it. Not like she’d actually been planning to lunge at the man with the sheriff’s star gleaming on his nicely pressed uniform. Esme would hardly make such a mistake. She’d merely wanted to check on her husband. And she believed in being prepared, so she’d checked on him with a knife at the ready.

Maybe they should talk about her also getting a gun? She made a mental note to revisit the gun situation when she and Tyler were alone.

Tyler put the knife onto a nearby end table. But he kept his grip on her hand. “Our neighbor came by with a welcome basket.”

She peeked around Tyler and sent a smile at the sheriff who watched her so intently. “Incredibly thoughtful of you.” She twisted around Tyler and strode toward the sheriff. Since Tyler didn’t let her go, she dragged him with her. But, after three steps, he did release her hand.

She extended said hand to the sheriff. “Esme Hollow. Pleasure to meet you.”

The sheriff was a devilishly handsome man with brown hair, green eyes, and tan skin. He was about Tyler’s height, but smaller in the shoulders. A much sleeker build. His hand reached out to take hers. Not in a handshake, as she’d expected. Instead, he caught her hand and lifted it up toward his face, as if he’d kiss her knuckles.

She was used to the gesture in Europe. But in the US? Not so much.

Then she realized he wasn’t going to kiss her knuckles. He was busy staring at her fingers. Or rather…

“No ring,” he murmured. “Yeah, hate to be the one to tell you, but that shit is a dead giveaway that you aren’t actually married.”

He dropped her hand.Hishand went toward his holster.

Oh, no. Esme gulped. “I took off my ring while I was washing dishes.” A light laugh slipped from her. “I’ll just go get it.” She spun to dash back to the kitchen, but she basically slammed into Tyler.

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