Page 23 of The Sheriff & the Nurse

He chuckled at that. “Okay, you got me.” His smile became meaningful, deep, smoldering with intensity. “I’ll let you boss me around too.” Her stomach gave a happy lurch, and her palms got sweaty. “Since you are my fiancée.”

“I think I’m going to like this fake fiancé gig.”

“Yes, ma’am, I think you will.” The smolder in his blue eyes and the smirk curving his lips compounded the allure of his words.

Lily leaned against the door jam. She needed something to support her. His smile grew. He knew exactly how he was affecting her. Was he healed from that awful Sheryl and ready to give Lily a chance beyond this fake situation? She didn’t know how to discern what was real, what was part of their ruse, and what was simply Clint teasing her.

When she didn’t respond, he tipped the cowboy hat he wasn’t wearing to her. “I’ll be quick.”

She could only nod. She watched him turn into his bedroom. His rhomboid, trapezius, and latissimus dorsi muscles were every bit as glorious as his anterior muscular structure. His shirt clung to his back but was too thick for her to see through. She really wanted to see if he had any tattoos.

He glanced over his shoulder and caught her staring. His smile grew again.

Lily blushed and looked away.

As soon as his door shut, she turned toward the banister and let out a soft sigh. She’d been so focused on Clint that she hadn’t spared a glance for any view but him. The two-story windows along the back of the house showcased a well-kept yard complete with a gazebo and a water feature. The forest beyond was thick and beautiful. Clint’s house fit him—impressive and gorgeous.

She hurried down the stairs. Rounding the corner toward the huge open room, she had to stop again. So pretty. Did Clint everhike or trail run through the mountains? She wanted to propose they do that tomorrow morning.

Hurrying into the spacious kitchen, she pulled open the fridge door and found eggs and sausage links. Opening cupboards, she found pans and started the sausage sizzling. There was a fresh loaf of pumpkin bread on the counter. Mama Millie. That woman could bake as well as Lily’s own mama. She sliced the bread and some fresh peaches then pulled out orange juice and milk, turning the sausage and finding plates, cups, and silverware.

Her mind was far away from cooking breakfast. Clint was all that consumed her. Once they resolved her dilemma, could they become real engaged? She already felt at home in this beautiful house, but that was just a bonus to the complete package that was Sheriff Clint Coleville.

She’d scooped the sausage onto a paper-towel covered plate and was cracking eggs when she heard footsteps. Her heart pitter-pattered. She didn’t know how long she could last with this fake engagement deal. Hopefully Aiden Porter or Mark’s work from last night would yield something.

Clint came around the staircase and into the living area. He paused and his gaze trailed over her. He looked incredible in a simple T-shirt and jeans. No boots or hat yet. Seeing him in his socks somehow made this all the more intimate.

He swallowed and said, “That’s a vision I never thought I’d see.”

Lily’s pulse sped up and her palms got sweaty. “Me cooking for you?”

He grinned. She had to look away or declare her yearning for him. She cracked an egg and dropped half the shell into the mixture. “Oh, shoot.” Using the edge of the shell, she scooped it out as Clint approached.

She threw the mess in the garbage, rinsed her hands, and hurried to salt and pepper the eggs.

“Looks delicious,” he said, his blue eyes focused on her, not the food.

“Thank you. It was hard work.”

He chuckled at that. “What can I do?”

“Just give the eggs a minute. Scrambled okay?”

“Perfect.”

She imagined he’d say that if she had poached, fried, or boiled them. She stirred the eggs and asked, “Do you lift weights every day?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He folded his arms across his chest as if to reemphasize the obvious muscles.

“Oh, my.” She concentrated on stirring the eggs, biting at her lip so she didn’t say something she shouldn’t. “Do you ever go on hikes or trail runs?”

“A couple times a week.”

“Could we go tomorrow morning?” She managed to meet his gaze again.

“I would love that.”

Something passed between them. Fake engagement? The draw between them was as real as the floor she was standing on.

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