Page 25 of Sadie's Guarded Harbor

Furrowing her brow, she gave him a hard look. “Do you really want to know?”

He nodded.

“Fine.” She sighed and tilted her head to the side, as if studying him to figure out why he’d want to know about her family. “I don’t have any siblings, and my mom lives in Georgia.”

“Are you two close?”

Sadie shrugged. “As close as you can be with someone who constantly questions your decisions.”

Tommy chuckled. “I know how that is.”

“Really?” She hooked up her mouth in a doubtful smirk.

“Yes, really.” He shook his head, not surprised that someone else wouldn’t guess how deep his issues with his family flowed. His relationship with his dad might have healed, but he still fought every damn day for people to respect him on his own merits, instead of for who he was related to. And that irritation rubbed his skin raw. “My dad would have done anything to keep Owen and me away from working in law enforcement.”

She furrowed her brow. “I figured he’d be thrilled his sons would want to follow in his footsteps.”

He snorted out a humorless laugh. “Not at all. He wanted to protect his children like he couldn’t protect his wife.” He fell silent, the familiar punch in the gut taking his breath away for a moment at the memory of his mom.

Sadie wet her lips and hesitation made her words slow. “You mentioned something yesterday about tragedies. Did you mean the loss of your mother and the trouble with your family?”

The pain in his gut intensified, the pain almost unbearable. He gripped his hands around his mug, concentrating on the warmth seeping into his skin. “My high school girlfriend died in a car accident senior year of high school.”

“Oh my God. I’m so sorry.” Sadie reached across the table and clasped her hand over his.

Heat spread from her hand and shot to his core. Damn, this was the second time his entire body had reacted to her simple touch. A war waged inside him. Pull away, or let her fingers linger on his skin. His eyes met hers. Her pupils dilated. Her mouth slightly open.

What would she taste like? Would she take control like she did on the job, or would she be like putty in his hands—letting him mold her body in the most delicious ways possible?

The sound of the door opening had him whipping around his head. The muscles in his neck screamed at the sudden movement.

His dad crossed the threshold and kicked off his boots. “What are you two doing here?”

For once, Tommy welcomed his dad’s interruption. Clearing his throat, he shifted and pulled his arm from under Sadie’s palm. Sure, he’d spent time with women over the years, but he never allowed one to break through his walls. Sadie wasn’t some woman he met at a bar—someone to have a good time with then forget about. Hell, he wasn’t sure if he’d ever be ready to get past that stage. And even if he was ready to open his heart to another woman, Sadie Pennel was off limits.

Sadie yankedher arms back across the oak table and rested her hands in her lap. Humiliation scorched her cheeks. She’d let herself get caught up in Tommy’s questions and acted completely out of character.

But his confession about his high school girlfriend tugged at her heartstrings, and she’d been drawn to him by some unseen force. The need to comfort him, to show him she cared, was so strong.

She didn’t like it—didn’t like the tingles of excitement that erupted in her belly when she’d rested her hand on his arm. Or the way he’d looked at her. My God, it was like he wanted to devour her right there on the table like she’d been served to him on a platter.

Okay, the problem was that she liked the way Tommy made her feel way too much.

Sheriff Wells stomped in the kitchen and filled a mug that was sitting beside the ancient coffee machine. Shifting, he leaned against the counter and took a long sip of his drink. His gaze stayed locked on them over the rim of the mug.

She struggled not to squirm.

“My cruiser’s totaled. Sadie brought me here so I could grab the keys to the truck you keep parked in the garage.”

Sadie.

Her name on his lips tempted a smile. He always referred to her as Deputy Pennel. And as much as him referring to her so casually in front of the sheriff made anxiety pitch in her stomach, the way it sounded made her knees tremble.

The sheriff grunted. “Okay. But that doesn’t explain why you’re sitting in my kitchen, drinking my coffee, when you should be working.”

“Sorry, sir.” She sprang to her feet.

Tommy shot her an amused look—sideways grin, deep dimples, laughing eyes.

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