Page 31 of Redeeming Melodies

The weight of his touch burned through my shirt. "Someone has to."

"Yeah?" His face was too close, green eyes intense despite the alcohol. "And what about what you want, Jake? Ever think about that?"

I didn't have an answer that felt safe. Not with him looking at me like that, not with his hand still on my shoulder, not with this strange electricity crackling between us.

"Right now I want to get you safely back to the inn." My voice came out rougher than intended.

"Always the protector." He finally stepped back, but his eyes held mine. "What if I don't want protection?"

"Tonight you're getting it anyway." I gestured toward the door, ignoring the way my skin still tingled where he'd touched me. "After you."

He moved past me, close enough that our arms brushed. "You know what your problem is, Sheriff? You're too good at taking care of everyone else. Who takes care of you?"

The question followed me into the night air, along with the unsettling realization that I wanted to keep talking to him, keep unraveling whatever mystery brought him to my town.

"I can walk," Elliot protested, but the slight sway in his step said otherwise.

"Sure you can. Get in the truck." I opened the passenger door, telling myself this was just part of the job. Looking after people, keeping them safe. Nothing more.

The cab of my truck felt smaller with him in it, his presence filling up the space in a way that made it hard to breathe normally. Streetlights painted stripes across his face as we drove, catching the sharp line of his jaw, the thoughtful set of his mouth.

"Your truck's cleaner than I expected," he said finally, breaking the comfortable silence. "No empty coffee cups or ticket books?"

"Unlike some people, I know how to maintain order."

His laugh was soft, genuine. "Always the perfect sheriff, aren't you?"

"Hardly." I turned onto Oak Street, the truck's headlights cutting through the darkness. "Just trying my best, like everyone else."

Elliot stared out the window, watching the sleeping town roll past. "Must be nice," he said quietly. "Knowing exactly who you are, what you're meant to do."

Something in his voice made me glance over. The cocky facade had slipped, leaving something raw and honest in its place.

"You'd be surprised," I found myself saying. "Took me a while to figure it out.”

"Well, shit." His grin returned, but softer now. "Who knew the stern Sheriff Thompson was actually a romantic at heart?"

"Romantic's got nothing to do with it." I kept my eyes on the road, ignoring how his teasing tone made my pulse jump. "Just speaking from experience."

"Yeah?" He shifted in his seat, turning toward me. "And what experience is that?"

"Let's just say I wasn't always the upstanding citizen you see before you."

"No?" His interest seemed genuine now. "Hard to picture you as anything but just that.”

"You'd be surprised." The words came easier in the dark cab, with him looking at me like that. "Took some wrong turns before I found my way here."

"And now you're what - the town's guardian angel?"

"Now I'm just trying to do right by the place that gave me a second chance."

He fell quiet at that, something crossing his face I couldn't quite read. "Tommy asked about the go-kart today," he said suddenly, the words coming out rushed. "We were building it together, before... well, before everything went to shit."

The admission hung in the air between us. I waited, sensing there was more.

"He's eight," Elliot continued, his voice softer. "Shouldn't have to wonder if his dad's going to disappear on him."

"Is that what you're doing? Disappearing?"

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