Page 22 of Brewbies
He needed to go before the memory of them fucking in downward dog made him do something stupid.
Just pull away and let her be about her business. At least until her business moved on and she wasn’t his—er—Townsend Harbor’sdistraction—er—problemanymore.
Part of him wanted to dive behind the van in case he should be recognized, but he shook off the thought as quickly as it appeared. He was a goddamned adult. A sheriff. How could he do something like hide from a hookup and still keep his man card?
His job was running toward the danger, for the sake of every fuck.
He strolled toward it, instead, despite the insistent voice in his head demanding he run—not walk—the other way.
She ran right into him without looking up.
“Here.” He put his hand on the cold chrome of her handlebars to steady them as she regained her composure. “Let me take you home.”
Shit. Wait.That hadn’t been the plan. Had it?
Darby looked up at him, her gaze flicking over his features before settling on the logo of the sheriff’s office on his shirt. He felt her stiffen, and her face clouded with suspicion. Straightening, she tossed the lock in her wicker basket and dislodged the bike from the rack. She folded up the kickstand with the toe of her wedged sandal (who the actual fuck wore sandals in this weather?) before turning away toward her edge of town.
“No thanks,” she tossed over her shoulder as she kicked a leg over the ridiculous banana seat.
Something about the way her toned ass hit the seat had him biting down on his lip.
Hard.
Ethan furrowed his brow, confused by her response. “But it’s not safe to be riding on the outskirts this late at night.”
“Why, because half the town is going to burn me at the stake?” she challenged.
“No, because it’s a dark-trying-to-be-stormy night, and you have at least a mile to bike once you hit the edge of town through that dark tunnel of trees.” He did his best to soften his features. “Look, I know we’re at odds right now, but the least I can do is get you home safe.”
After studying him for a moment, she lifted her finger and twisted it into her dimple, adopting an old-timey voice and over-pouty lips. “Oh, you mean li’l old me might be all vulnerable and female and I need a big, strong man like you to protect me from the nighttime?” She cocked a smirk at him and fired, “Please. I started this gig in Boston next to an Irish pub with probable mob ties. Believe me, I know a thing or two about danger.”
Of that, he had no doubt. “Hate to break it to you, but we’re fresh out of Euro-American crime families…but close to the Olympic Mountains as we are, you might run into a pack of coyotes, or a mountain lion looking for fat racoons, or the herds of town deer that eat everyone’s yards.”
“So that’s why everyone’s arbor vitae look like mushroom-tipped dicks. Little bastards can’t reach high enough to eat the top.” Chortling, she positioned her sandal on the pedal.
“That’s what you took from my warning?” He scowled.
“I’m not getting in your car,” she said, raking him with an acerbic look. “I barely know you.”
An expression of irritation burst from his throat as if she’d launched her words at his solar plexus. “You know you have nothing to fear from me. I’m a cop.”
She lifted one perfect brow. “I think we both know that isn’t the flex it used to be.”
“Fair.” With the longest sigh he’d ever summoned, he cursed the name of the ass-faced goddamned motherfuckers who wore the badge and sullied it. “Look, the deer weren’t the point. The predators are. They’re very real and very close. Also, that’s the route drunk drivers take when they’re finished for the night.”
She held up a hand against him saying anything else. “Okay, so you’ve mansplained inclement weather, wild animals, and drunk drivers to me. Anything else we need to go over before this ABC After-School Special is done?”
“Last year we found a den of coyotes on the forested hill between downtown and uptown.” He ignored her sarcasm and pointed toward the four-story staircase that connected the beachfront shops to the rest of the town. “They chased a couple of kids down the stairs, and we had to call Sequoia Forrester to reloca—”
“That’s fascinating and all, but bye.” Darby was pedaling down the block, waving a hand that was definitely more afuck youthan a farewell.
Ethan growled. As in an actual low, rumbling, throat-clearing sound that didn’t seem to reach her as she stood to give her pumping feet more strength and speed.
Damn, the sight of that ass bouncing would follow him to his grave.
Her toes had to be freezing.
Not my problem,he reminded himself.
