Page 44 of Seducing the Sheriff
“Lawson here.”
“Sheriff, we have livestock on the highway again.”
I held back a sigh. “What this time?”
“Three pygmy goats, two donkeys, and a llama.”
I heard a yell in the background.
“Sorry, an alpaca.”
I wrinkled my brow. “Are they from the Collins farm?”
“They are. The state troopers are on their way.”
“I’ve got another meeting.” With the coffee shop. “But call me if the troopers need backup.”
If I remembered correctly, the Collins animals were generally placid—docile enough that even the alpaca didn’t cause much fuss. The state troopers could manage whatever minor ruckus was happening out there. I was still nursing my pride after the debacle with old Buttercup, who had apparently decided I was public enemy number one the moment I’d danced with her out on the highway.
“And Rosie said Greg Harding, from the old Jenkins residence, called in to the office.”
I froze in place for half a second, then forced myself into motion again, striding out of the mayor’s office with a little too much urgency. I needed to get to my car before Liam or Meyer caught wind of that particular piece of information. They’d never let me live it down.
“What did he want?” I asked, careful to keep my tone as even as possible, though my pulse was doing a ridiculous tap dance.
“He wanted to know if you were free for lunch.”
I checked my watch. It was well past lunchtime now. “Tell Rosie if Greg visits again, he should call me on my cell.”
“Understood.”
The second the line disconnected, I had to grip the steering wheel to keep myself from dialing him right then and there. Greg Harding wasn’t just any voice on the other end of the line. He was the kind of man who made you forget how to think straight. And right now, all I wanted was to drop every ounce of responsibility and point my car in his direction.
Instead, I caught sight of myself in the rearview mirror. My reflection looked far too telling—flushed cheeks, wide eyes, that ridiculous hopeful little curve tugging at my mouth. I groaned. “Get yourself together, Lawson. This is why you don’t date. You need to focus.”
I wanted to focus all right. Focus on Greg’s gorgeous mouth and hot bod.
No! I was not going to let myself unravel over this. Not today. I had a job to do, animals to wrangle, people to manage. I needed grounding, something solid. Coffee. That was the answer. Coffee and a buttermilk bar. Sweet, fried, and sensible—that would set me back on track. At least, that’s what I told myself as I started the engine and tried not to imagine Greg Harding standing here, with that slow, devastating grin aimed at me.
The best buttermilk bars came from Bobcat Stump, but I didn’t have a lot of time before I needed to return to the office, so I headed to the Flying Saucer for a 20oz caffeine hit. I needed it, okay? And the Saucer’s coffee was superlative. I wasn’t sure who I was trying to justify that too, me or someone else.
Destiny’s blonde curls bobbed as I walked into the coffee shop. “Hi there, sheriff. How are you today?”
“In need,” I said fervently, ignoring the space-themed décor which made me feel as if I were being sucked into a black hole. I’d quickly understood that Destiny didn’t work on the less-is-more philosophy.
Her eyes widened and I guess I wasn’t usually quite so vehement.
“Hard day?” she asked, her tone sympathetic.
“Budget meetings,” I said.
“Oh.” Now she looked positively pitying. I didn’t even have to ask for what I wanted. She just reached for the big cup.
Honestly, if it brought me a huge coffee to snorkel, I didn’t mind laying on the pity party. My mom would be proud of me for trying to integrate.
“Here.” Destiny started the coffee. “You must be exhausted. The mayor always staggers in here after a day of meetings too.”
“He does?”
