Page 48 of Seducing the Sheriff
“Sheriff, there are sheep running down Main Street in Townsville.”
And another.
“Sheriff, there’s been an attempted breakout from the county jail.”
Sheriff. Sheriff. Sheriff.
My whole afternoon was one phone call after another.
I meant to call Greg back, I really did, but my day ran away with me and before I’d finished it was dark outside. I sat back in my chair. I. Was. Done. So done. I needed something to eat and my bed.
I groaned as my cell rang. I was ready to ignore it, but then I saw it was Greg.
“Unless you’re promising dinner and a beer—” I started.
“How about you bring take-out, and I provide a mystery.”
“Don’t tell me you’ve found another skeleton in your closet.” I did not have it in me to play cop tonight.
“Nope. You are dead body free, sheriff. But I might have a clue regarding my previous inhabitant.”
“Oh?” Now my interest was piqued.
“Bring takeout, your choice, and I’ll provide the mystery and the beers.”
“You’re on. I’ll go via home to change. I need to get out of this uniform. See you in an hour?”
“See you then,” Greg said, and my toes curled at his warm voice.
I shut down my laptop, tidied my desk, picked out the buttermilk bar for Greg, and made sure everything was locked away. By the time I left most of the day shift had gone home. I checked everyone left in the office was okay and then I walked, no ran, to my car, ready to leave this day behind me.
All I wanted was a dinner, beer, and a hot man. And the mystery too.
My belly growled as I pulled up in Greg’s drive, the paper bag of tacos and burritos filling the truck cab, slow torture for a hungry man. I hoped to hell he liked them, because I wasn’t about to get anything else. From the way his nose twitched and his chest expanded on that first deep inhale when he opened the door, I figured that was a solid yes.
“Food or mystery?” he asked, shutting the door behind me with a soft click that felt more like sealing us off from the rest of the world.
I didn’t bother answering. Instead, I stepped close, slid my hand to the warm skin at the back of his neck, and tugged him forward.
“First,” I murmured, “a kiss.”
The low and needy sound he made went straight to my balls. His mouth met mine, lips parting eagerly, tongues tangling in a slow, decadent duel. He tasted faintly of beer and cinnamon gum, but mostly he tasted like Greg—familiar, grounding, and addictive all at once.
It wasn’t hurried, wasn’t frantic. Just enough heat to remind us both of what simmered beneath the surface, of how badly I wanted this, him, us.
When I finally eased back, breath warm against his cheek, I caught his dazed grin and couldn’t stop my own. “I needed that. Now, how about we eat, and you tell me about this mystery over dinner?”
“Perfect,” he said, voice rougher than usual. His eyes sparkled as he added, “I’ve been waiting hours to open the box.”
I froze, burritos suddenly forgotten.
“Box? What box?”
Chapter Thirteen
Greg
Cash gaped at me with a startled expression. “What kind of box? Where did it come from? What’s inside?”
