Page 9 of Love Over Easy

Shyanne

I wait until I hear David’s bedroom door click shut before I open the top two drawers of a dresser. He said this was his sisters’ room and to take whatever I needed. He said his sister wouldn’t mind. I only hope he’s correct because I really don’t want to sleep in my clothes. They’re damp and smell like I’ve been rolling around on the ground. Which I have been.

Taking inventory of the room, I feel as if I’ve been transported back to the ‘90s. I would never have had to guess that I’m in his sister’s old bedroom. Posters of Backstreet Boys, 98 Degrees, and Hanson decorate almost every inch of the pastel pink walls. There are sports trophies and medals stacked on a shelf above a desk and a corkboard filled with pictures, tickets, and invitations.

This is what a normal teenage girl’s room looked like. I can almost feel the life she lived. Jenny is spelled out in big letters above the cork board. I bend to look at one of the pictures more closely. It must be Jenny’s prom picture. She’s a beautiful young woman and the guy she’s with has the potential to grow into a handsome man. I wonder how old Jenny is today. From the date on the prom pic, she’s in her thirties.

One of the pictures must have been taken on a family camping trip. The older man and woman sitting in camp chairs must be David’s parents. David looks a lot like his dad. I can pick out a much younger David and another similar looking boy, obviously his brother. They’re laughing around a campfire with a red and tan tent in the background.

I don’t know why it hurts to see them in the still photo. It caught so much. This family loves each other; it’s showing on each face.

I turn my back on the montage trying not to notice the differences between the way Jenny grew up and the way I did. My family never went on a family vacation. We traveled, but it was always for work and I rarely saw the outside of the hotels we stayed in. I yawn; it’s been a long few days. I quickly pick out a frilly pink gown from Jenny’s drawers and lay it on the bed before I go across the hall and brush my teeth with a new toothbrush David laid out for me. The short nighty is tight across the chest so I take it off and settle on a faded gray t-shirt. I sit on the side of the bed and turn the lamp off before I sink under the New Kids on the Block comforter on the bed by the windows. It doesn’t take long before the sound of the surf lulls me to sleep.

* * *

I glare at the back of the large man who is fixing me breakfast and try not to let my eyes continue to drop to his tight ass in the khaki shorts he’s wearing. His calves are thick, finely developed muscles and I really want to squeeze them. Last night I’d been too distracted with being arrested to fully appreciate the handsome Sheriff Caldwell.

After having the best night’s sleep that I’ve had in a very long time, followed by the most amazing shower, I was feeling much better. I was ready to be cordial to the sheriff, but that thought hadn’t lasted long. When I’d first come downstairs, I found the Sheriff and another man at the breakfast bar, each with a cup of mouthwatering coffee.

The hard of hearing Sheriff Caldwell had introduced the other man as Doctor Lee.

David looks over his shoulder. “How are you feeling today? You’re moving better.”

His gaze skims the tight t-shirt I’d thrown on with a pair of form-fitting yoga pants I found in the dresser. If the appreciative look in his eyes is anything to go by, he likes my curves.

My nipples tighten in reaction and I’m afraid to look down. The thin sports bra I’m wearing won’t hide a thing.

It may be spiteful, but I must point out one more time, “I told you there was nothing wrong with me.” Yeah, I say that with a snarky tone to my voice.

He half turns from the pan of scrambled eggs. “I feel much better since Doctor Lee’s examination. And he did wrap your bruised ribs and twisted wrist. Aren’t you more comfortable?”

I shrug, even though he can’t see me. I certainly won’t admit that it does feel better professionally wrapped. “I would have been fine.”

He turns off the heat before scraping the eggs onto two plates and then sets a plate heaped with bacon, eggs, toast, and home fries in front of me. The yummy bacon smell fills my nose and I want nothing more than to stuff my mouth. My stomach growls in agreement and I lick my lips. I haven’t eaten real food in four days, and the feast in front of me hasn’t been on my diet since I was sixteen. I look up when the sheriff chuckles.

“Are you going to eat it or date it? I don’t think anyone has ever been that in love with my cooking. Not even my mom.”

I lean over and breathe in the aroma. I sit back in my seat and glance at David. He has the most peculiar look on his face. I suppose I am going a bit over the top with my reaction. It just smells so good. I grin and say, “It smells wonderful.”

“Why don’t you take a bite?”

There’s nothing stopping me from eating it. Nobody is going to jerk the plate away or make me run miles for eating a peanut butter candy bar. Yeah, that happened. My hand shakes as I pick up the fork. I lick my lips again and shovel eggs onto the fork. As soon as the buttery taste hits my mouth, my eyes close and I sigh. Delicious.

It’s crazy, I know. I chomp down on a crispy piece of bacon and groan. My eyes pop open and the sheriff has a pained look on his face. My gaze moves downward. Blood rushes to my face when I see a bulge in the front of his pants.

I shift my eyes away and tuck my hair behind my ears. I know what that means. I may be twenty-six—almost twenty-seven—and I’ve only been with one man, but I know the sheriff is aroused. I fill my mouth with home fries to keep from saying something stupid like please, sir, bend me over the counter and take me.

I chance another glance his way and our eyes connect. He’s handsome in a Chris Hemsworth way, but without facial hair. His dark brown hair is cut shorter on the sides and longer on top. It’s brushed back with a wave in the middle and barely touches the collar of his uniform shirt.

I’ve seen a lot of ripped men so I know that his broad shoulders are above average and I already know how hard his chest feels. My eyes go down to his pants when I think about his hardness.

His skin is a rich tanned shade which makes his warm brown eyes mesmerizing. And his lips… damn, I love his lips. Strong. Demanding. Talented? I’m working myself up to a full-on lust-fest until I look up. I wince at the bruising on his face.

I feel bad for marring his perfection with a purple discoloration on his chin bleeding upward toward his eyes. I know from experience he’s going to have a shiner by nightfall.

“Do you want more?” he asks.

“Hmmm,” I murmur, still in my sheriff-induced fog. I look down and my plate’s empty. When did that happen? I rub my stomach. Oh, my God, I am uncomfortable. “No. No, thanks. I’m full. Thank you for breakfast.”

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