Page 6 of Falling for the Sheriff

We both laugh and sip our wine, talking and giggling until the bottle is empty.

FOUR

Bryce

Istick around the office until seven, when I finally clock out for the night.

I’ve figured out the computers for the most part, and I got my office exactly how I want it. I’ve moved the desk and chairs around so that when you walk into my office, I’m sitting right across from the door. I left the filing cabinet where they were, but now they’re no longer behind my desk, and I put up the degrees, licenses, and awards I’ve won over the years. I even stacked the bookcase with books, trophies, and framed pictures. The whole place seems a lot more welcoming now. Hopefully, this makes everyone feel that much more at home when they come into my office with something on their minds.

I have a mini-fridge packed up at the new house, and I plan on taking it in with me tomorrow to keep my office stocked with water, soda, and juice. I don’t eat much, but I drink like a fish. With all the physical training I do, staying hydrated is the hardest part. I find it easier to do if I keep an abundance of fluids readily available.

I make the quick drive up the mountain where my new place is and go in and change into my workout clothes before sticking my earbuds in and going for a jog. I jog up the mountain,preferring to take the easy way out on the way back. I jog somewhere around two miles to warm up and then run another two miles.

I’m surprised to find a small cabin tucked away in the trees, with a pond at the side of it. I didn’t realize anyone lives this high up on the mountain. There’s a big window in the front of the house, and the lights are on inside. I strain my eyes to see a blonde moving about. There’s a silver car in the drive—the same car I saw at The Place and the station today. Nina. She must live here. I can’t believe she lives up here all alone. Or maybe she doesn’t. We didn’t have time to get into personal stuff today, but she didn’t have on a ring. I know that much. But it doesn’t mean she doesn’t have a boyfriend.

Before, I was hoping she was single so that I might work up the courage to ask her out, but now, I’m hoping she has a man around the house to help with some of the upkeep. There’s smoke billowing out of the chimney pipe in the roof—thick gray smoke, not steam. That means her place is heated by a wood-burning stove or fireplace of some kind. I can’t picture her out here swinging an ax to chop wood. The grass in front of the small porch is overgrown, and so are the weeds around the pond. I wonder if she takes care of this whole place alone or if maybe she hires out a groundskeeper.

I pull my eyes away when I see her take a seat at a computer. The blue light on the screen lights up her face, giving me a glimpse of her blue eyes shining brightly, her plump lips turned up into a smile. I feel like a creep for watching, so I pick up the pace and double my speed, putting her place behind me. Even though she’s nowhere within my view anymore, it doesn’t stop me from thinking about her.

I see myself placing my hands on her hips and picking her up with my mouth on hers. I set her on my desk and tug at the button on her shirt that’s been begging to come undone all day.I picture the body she’s hiding under her nice dress suit. Just thinking about it has my dick twitching. This is getting a tad ridiculous. I haven’t been able to think of anything but her since I met her. I know I can’t go there. Why am I torturing myself?

I push her from my mind, and instead, I focus on the beat of the music, on putting one foot in front of the other as I run and push myself to go faster and faster. My watch beeps at me, and I see that I’ve run four miles up the mountain. I slow to a stop, crack my neck, stretch my arms and legs, and then take off back down the mountain.

I run down the two miles and then slow to a jog for a mile. The final mile is a walk to cool down. It’s dark when I walk back into the house. I lock the door behind me, take out my earbuds, and go for a shower. My clothes are wet from sweat, and they cling to my body, making them even harder to get off. I toss everything into the corner since I don’t have a hamper in here yet and climb behind the hot water.

Twenty minutes later, I get out and pull on a pair of sweatpants before heading to the kitchen to prepare something for dinner. I haven’t fully stocked the kitchen yet, but I grabbed a few things from town last night when I arrived. I pull the cast-iron skillet out of the oven and put it on the gas burner to heat up. I spray it down with Pam before tossing in a steak. While it sizzles, I work on steaming some vegetables. I flip the steak a few minutes later and leave the vegetables until the steak is done. Once the steak is done, I plate it up and let it rest, allowing the juices to settle before taking my dinner to the couch.

My laptop is on the coffee table in front of me, and I open it and play an old movie I had laying around since I don’t have any cable or internet set up yet. After eating, I quickly clean up and head to bed, wanting to beat everyone to the office in the morning.

In the morning,I swing by the bakery and load up of coffee, donuts, muffins, and scones to take into the break room. As everyone arrives, they all beam and smile when they find a treat waiting for them. Nina is one of the last to arrive, and just like everyone else, she comes straight to the break room for coffee.

“Morning,” she says, walking in and setting her things on the table to pour a cup of coffee. She picks up the pot, but it’s empty. “Everyone load up on coffee already?” she asks, but I’m too lost in what she’s wearing today to answer.

She’s wearing a tight black pencil skirt that has a slit up the back, up past her knees. Her white dress shirt fits snug, just like yesterday. It’s tucked into the skirt with a wide belt over it. She’s wearing a blazer, but this one is so tight that I bet she couldn’t button it even if she were paid to. It’s also shorter than a usual blazer. This one ends just below her breasts, giving me the perfect view of that tiny waist of hers. Her blond hair is down today, lying in soft curls across her back. She’s wearing a bit more makeup, but not a lot. Just enough to make those blue eyes shine brighter. Her thick lips are painted a deep red. What gets me, though, are those black-framed glasses. She’s like a dirty librarian fantasy come to life.

She stares over at me when she realizes I never replied her question.

“Oh, I brought in coffee and some baked goods for everyone today. Help yourself.” I point at the counter in the corner.

She turns with a smile. “Look at you schmoozing your way in here.”

I shrug. “Glasses, huh?”

She wrinkles her nose as if she hates them. “Yeah, I dropped my last contact this morning and couldn’t find it. I’ll have to order some more. I hate these things. I feel like an old lady.” She laughs as she takes a cup of coffee and a scone.

“You don’t look like an old lady,” I start but stop myself there. I was going to go on and compare her to a dirty librarian who needs to be punished by the town sheriff, but I manage to catch myself before it came out.

She smiles as she grabs her things. “That makes two of us,” she says with a grin, walking past me.

Her scent floats by me, and I can’t help but close my eyes and breathe it in deeply. She smells like a mix of fresh fruit, clean linen, and a hint of smoke—probably from the wood-burning fireplace she has.

I follow her to her office and lean against the door frame as she sets her things down. She looks up at me with confusion.

“I bought a house in the mountains, and I was out running last night and noticed your car. You live in that little cabin by the lake?”

She smiles and nods. “I do.”

“I noticed your yard needs some upkeep. I’m more than happy to volunteer if you need some help.”

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