Page 22 of My Surly Valentine

He cuts me off with a swift, fiery kiss. “Hazel, I want you to make your own choices. Completely independent from your father. Follow your heart, okay?”

My forehead thumps against his chest as I nod. “Yes.”

“Okay then. Dinner is half-ready. How about you sit at the island and have a glass of that wine you liked so much last night?”

He takes a bottle from the fridge and shows it to me, then laughs at my wide eyes. “How did you get the exact same one?” I ask.

He pours us each a glass while I admire his tattooed forearms. Axton is ridiculously sexy in his usual t-shirts, butthere’s something extra hot about a big man in a dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up.

“When the server brought the check, I asked her to put two bottles in the back of my truck before we left and add them to the bill.”

He asks how my work is going, and we chat about literary trends while he adds sauce to something and slips the pan back in the oven. By the time he’s tossing a salad, I realize this is already the best Valentine’s Day of my life and we haven’t even had dinner yet.

Axton takes a sip of wine, swirling the glass. “You know, a guy like me probably shouldn’t like this pink fruity shit. But I do. It’s like drinking candy.”

I reach out and tap his arm. “It’s not that sweet.”

His eyebrow raises skeptically. “Really?”

He scows at the front door as a sharp knock makes me jump. I’m genuinely surprised the wood doesn’t splinter from the force of his glare.

“What the…Nobodycomes up here,” he mutters, stomping toward the door. He flings it open in a way that makes me think he’s about to tear somebody’s head off for interrupting us.

It’s a middle-aged man in a sheriff’s uniform. “Hey, Axton. I’m looking for Hazel Anderson?”

My heart sinks through the floor.

My dad called the cops.

If Axton gets in trouble, I’ll never forgive myself for causing him drama in his own town.

14

AXTON

If anyone other than Sheriff Stone were at the door, I would have pitched them headfirst right down the driveway.

He glances over my shoulder as I hear Hazel gasp.

I wave him inside. “Hazel, this is Sheriff Stone. It’s okay. He’s a good guy.”

As soon as Stone realizes that Hazel is fine, the table is set, and we’re clearly about to have dinner, his expression softens. “I’m so sorry to intrude, ma’am. But your father?—”

She holds up her hands. “I know. I’m so sorry. He’s…a control freak.”

“That’s a polite term for it,” he says, cautiously stepping closer. “Raving asshole is another one. There’s other words that I won’t use in front of a lady, but he certainly did.”

“What did he want?” Axton glowers.

The sheriff grimaces. “The only thing I could say to stop him from going completely ballistic was to promise I would come up here and personally check on Hazel. Apparently, he had a report that some giant brute of a man had his daughter under his thrall and brainwashed and…” He trails off and shrugs. “Man, city folk are fucking uptight.”

He nods to Hazel. “I’m sorry, but I also had to promise him that I would have a conversation with you alone.”

She hesitates, looking at me.

“Make it quick,” I mutter to Stone. “Dinner’s coming out of the oven in ten minutes.”

I step outside, closing the door behind me. There’s a lull in the almost constant breeze, and the forest is so silent that I’m able to catch a few phrases from Stone like “free will” and “no coercion” and “voluntarily.”

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