Page 72 of Rhett
I arched a brow. “A little bit?”
He laughed. “Okay. Let’s split the difference.” He cocked his head. “Has your animal been talking to you a lot?”
“Yes,” I confessed. “And my bossy beast is making me nuts.”
“What’s she been saying?”
“Yapping about you. For God’s sake, she wants me to bite you… like, right now. Is that normal?”
“The biting, yes. But I bite you first, then you reciprocate.”
“I see.”
“Your beast is trying to speed up the process because she’s chosen me.” He grinned. “That makes me extremely happy.”
See? Now bite him.
Bite him where?I asked.
Do I have to show you everything?my beast hissed.
Don’t be so rude.
Rhett said in his quiet, rough voice. “There’s no ifs, ands, or buts. You are the missing piece in my life, Nova King. You. Are. Mine.” Rhett brought my fingers to his mouth, kissing them one by one. His touch was like a shock of electricity, setting my body aflame. Shamelessly, I ached for more, knowing that I had to maintain my composure because we were out in public. “But the most important question is, what do you want, Nova?”
“Despite the fact that my animal is a bossy chick, I can honestly say that I want you, Sheriff.”
His face dissolved into a delicious grin. “Despite the fact that I was an asshole to you when we first met?”
“You were, but let’s get past that.” I squeezed his hand. “Just don’t let it happen again.”
“Believe me, I won’t.”
A tall man with a bushy beard stopped his cart by our table. “Hello, Protector. Hi, Nova.”
“Hey, Pete,” Rhett replied.
I waved at him.
Pete gestured to his cart. “I’m selling slices of powdered honeycomb. Would you like to try a piece?”
“Pete’s a beekeeper,” Rhett said. “And sells the best honey in town, hands down.”
“Thank you for the compliment.” Pete grinned, puffing out his big barrel chest. “You want to taste it?” he asked me.
I raised my hand. “Yes please.”
“Let me get two, Pete,” Rhett said, handing him the money.
“Thank you kindly,” Pete said, sliding the parcels onto our table along with packets of wet napkins before moving on.
I drank some lemonade before asking, “Why does everyone call you Protector?”
“It’s an old-school term that shifters in this town still use. Basically, it means because I’m the sheriff, I’m responsible for defending and guarding the residents of this town. But technically, I’m not the only Protector. My pack are all Protectors, and we all care about the well-being of everyone in this town.”
“I guess that’s what makes this town so special. Well, that and the fact that everyone is Other.”
“Yup.” He scooted the parcels across to me. “Try the honeycomb.”
