Page 12 of Rhett
“Yet?”
“Yes.”
He gestured for me to step out. Reluctantly, I obliged.
“But if you don’t come clean with me about your true intentions in this town”—he slammed the passenger’s door—“I won’t hesitate to throw your ass in jail.”
I squared off with him. “You have no right.”
“Make up your mind, woman. First, you begged me to arrest you. Now you’re pitching a fit. What do you want?”
“For you to let me go.” I batted my eyelashes at him.
He scowled. “To go where?”
“None of your business.”
“Two can play this game.” He pointed to the front door of the station. “Straight ahead, Ms. Nova.”
“Fine.” I stomped away, but he beat me to the door, opening it for me.
Stepping over the threshold, I froze when everyone inside sniffed loudly, then stared at me as if I had two heads.
“What’s with the sniffing?” I mumbled.Do I stink?
A man with hair the color of a penny strode up to me with a huge grin. “Well, hello,” he said. “Ain’t this my lucky day. My name is Logan,” he finished with an outstretched hand.
Logan was stunningly handsome and built like a tank, with muscles bulging everywhere.
Are all the aliens genetically modified?
Or maybe they’re just cyborgs.
“Hello,” I returned, moving forward to shake his hand. Sheriff Stick-Up-His-Ass pushed my hand down.
“Get out of my station, Logan,” the sheriff ordered, pointing to the door.
Logan didn’t move an inch. “No need to be so snappy. I’m just being polite to the beautiful lady.”
“That’s a lie,” said a very pregnant woman. “You were flirting… badly.” The female turned to the sheriff. “We got a call from Dean. He said he saw Sam running across his property. Mack went to investigate.”
“Thanks, Heidi,” the sheriff replied, then glared at Logan. “What are you doing here anyway?”
Logan crossed his beefy arms. “Reporting a robbery at my butcher shop. Last night Clancy broke in and stole all my short loin—that’s my money cut. I smelled him all over my shop.”
Smelled him?This Clancy person must have very distinct body odor.
The sheriff frowned. “Well, get to reporting,” he said before grabbing my elbow, ushering me away.
My stomach growled when I spotted boxes of donuts on a desk. Not breaking his stride, Sheriff Cowboy grabbed a box before ushering me away.
I fought to keep pace. “Where’s the fire?”
“Less talking, more walking,” he ordered.
I glared over at him. “I don’t like to be alien-handled.”
“And I don’t like being lied to, so I guess we’re even.”
