Page 15 of Falling for the Sheriff
A curse leaves my lips before I’m thrusting deeper, burying myself to the hilt as my own release erupts, hot and endless. I moan her name against the damp skin of her throat, my entire world narrowing to the feel of her milking me dry, to the way herankles are locked against me, holding me inside, ensuring not a single drop is wasted.
There was no point in pulling out. I wouldn’t have even if I could.
I collapse onto her, careful to keep my weight on my elbows, but she holds me tight, her legs still wrapped around me, refusing to let me go. Our hearts hammer a frantic, synchronized rhythm against each other’s chests. The room spins slowly back into place, leaving only the two of us, tangled together, breathless, and finally, completely, each other’s.
I press a soft, lingering kiss to the fluttering pulse at the base of her throat, then another to her parted lips before I finally move to lie beside her. I pull her into my side, her head finding its perfect place on my shoulder, my arm a heavy, comfortable weight around her.
The silence is warm and filled with a contentment so deep it aches. I trace idle patterns on her stomach.
“Can I stay the night?” I ask, my voice unsteady.
She lets out a soft, breathy laugh that vibrates against my chest. “Obviously.”
I smile, pressing a kiss into her hair. I take a deeper breath, the next question feeling bigger, more important. “Can I stick around in the morning, too?” I ask, my tone gentler, more serious. “Scavenge your cabinets? Cook you breakfast?”
I feel her breath catch. She lifts her head to look at me, and her eyes are welling up with an emotion so pure it’s unmistakable happiness. She nods, a quick, joyful motion.
“I’d like that.” She bites her lip, a shy, hopeful look crossing her features. “Maybe… maybe tomorrow we could have dinner, too? At your cabin?”
My heart swells, a feeling so fierce and bright it’s almost painful. I love the idea. More than love it. I cup her cheek, mythumb stroking her skin. “Yeah,” I say, my voice thick with a promise. “Yeah, that sounds perfect.”
I pull her back down against me, holding her close. For the first time in a long while, the future doesn’t seem like an endless void. It feels like this. Like a happiness that’s more than enough for a man.
7
Alice
Epilogue
The familiar, crisp scent of greenery and sweet blooms fills the air of the shop, a perfume I’ll never tire of. Sunlight streams through the front window, catching on motes of dust dancing above buckets of fresh flowers. It’s a quiet Tuesday morning, the kind of peaceful calm I savor.
Humming softly, I gather a handful of deep red carnations, their ruffled petals soft against my fingers. I’m bundling them together with sprigs of deep green leatherleaf, my movements practiced and easy, when a flicker of suspicion cuts through my contentment.
I pause, my hands stilling on the stems. Gently, I set the half-finished arrangement down and reach for the order slip tucked into the plastic pick on the bucket.
A relieved sigh escapes me when I see an unexpected name, and I can’t help the silly smile that touches my lips. I have todouble-check now. It’s a habit born of necessity, thanks to the two rascals in my life.
Atlas and Luke have developed a truly infuriating—and utterly adorable—habit of placing orders for bouquets with me, having me carefully arrange my own gifts.
Atlas started it on our six-month anniversary, a dozen different colored carnations with a note that read, “You said they were your favorite. Now they’re mine, too.” Luke, not to be outdone by his father, had “helped” him order a tiny bundle of bright yellow daisies for me on Mother’s Day, his little name scrawled on the order form.
Not that a holiday is near, but there’s no telling with those two. Atlas might decide it’s “Tuesday I Love You” day, and Luke is always eager to be his partner in crime, especially if it involves “surprising Mama.”
Satisfied that this arrangement is, in fact, for a real customer and not my sheriff hiding behind a poorly chosen alias again, I finish the bundle, tying it with a simple twine bow. As I carry it to the front counter, my gaze drifts to the cash register.
Two people stand on the other side of the counter. A beautiful blonde with a sorrowful look on her face and a guy with similar features. Alina—the beauty I only know through my boss’s connection with the fire department, offers me a weak smile. Next to her, it must be her brother. Cameron, was it? He’s covered in grime, wearing a shirt that makes him look like he belongs in a garage.
“What brings you two in?” Putting my longing for Atlas to the side, I take in the prearranged flowers right alongside them.
Working here, it’s easy to tell which flowers are meant for celebratory reasons and which aren’t. Something tells me this arrangement will be for someone injured or no longer with us.
Cameron scowls at my friendliness, but he bites his tongue. With furrowed brows, he doesn’t linger long to give the answer, opting to leave the shop instead.
“Sorry about him. It’s just…Dad’s anniversary is today, and he always takes it rough. I wanted to get fresh flowers, and he just wants to get this over with.” She lets out a forced laugh and shrugs her shoulders. “He’s not usually that grouchy.”
I nod my head, hardly taking offense at it. I’ve dealt with worse.
Helping her pick out an arrangement of pink roses and white lilies, I wish her good luck before I sigh softly under my breath.
