Page 46 of All You Want
I have to protect her, even if she’s setting it all up for her social media hashtags. And frankly, at this point, I don’t care because all I ever want and need is enveloped in my big, brawny arms.
No one had better hurt the tiniest hair on her head.
That’s what sheriffs are for. To protect and to serve, and maybe if I get lucky, to dote, adore, and love.
Seventeen
~ Tami ~
I tilt the travel mug of coffee in my hands and sip, right when my car bumps over a pothole. Yow. The bitter liquid burns my tongue and gives me a jolt. I’ll need more than caffeine to keep me going. I’m wound up so tight, I haven’t slept in days, but one thing I can’t afford is a speeding ticket.
Tonight’s the grand opening. It’s the day before Halloween and the official start of Spooky Fest. I have the kitchen crew going for the big dinner tonight, and Todd’s coming by to do the last-minute safety check.
I slow down when I go through town, keeping my sportscar at the speed limit. The last person I want to meet is Shane Donnelly—Colson’s Corner’s traffic cop who’s a stickler for technicalities.
I was supposed to have dinner with him at the police station, but after all the hullabaloo over the dead raccoon and me finally getting the event permit approved, I forgot. I’m also not returning Shane’s phone calls to remind me of our “agreement.”
I stifle a jaw-gaping yawn and lift my lead foot from the gas pedal as the town square comes into view. It’s a typical fall weekend up in the Sierras with red and orange leaves blowing into piles and the mountains backdropped by evergreens. The downtown businesses are decorated with orange and black streamers, and pumpkins are congregated on the porches and raised wooden sidewalks. The general store has a huge ghost balloon flying from the flag pole, and the hardware store and lumberyard have a plethora of witches on the roof—some perched over cauldrons and others waving in the windows on top of broomsticks.
Gravestones and skeletons litter the lawn of the town square park, and the founder’s statue is wearing a costume of a grim reaper. There’s an atmosphere of anticipation among the artisans and merchants setting up their booths along with the mouthwatering scents of woodfire barbecue and the burr of gasoline generators. The tapping of hammers, intermittent buzz of power saws, and the men shouting and working together along with the crisp autumn temperature remind me this is our town’s last festival for the year.
It’s going to be a grand Spooky Fest and all the better because of my Graveyard Party and outdoor horror show. Paul agreed to cross-promote on social media with a witches and goblin bar crawl and joint block party. Of course, I have a special children’s area where Viola Graham, the librarian, will read ghost stories before taking the kids trick or treating amongst the campers.
It's going to be awesome—if only I can stay awake.
Practically pouring coffee down my throat, I turn the corner and pass the police station without stopping.
Thewhoop-whoopof a siren stops me dead in my tracks, or should I say wheels. What now?
I pull over in front of the Chevy Tahoe PPV, trying to see through my rearview mirror whether it’s Shane or Todd while putting a lid on my coffee—lest I get charged for drinking and driving. I wouldn’t put anything past Shane.
He gives me the creeps, and for some reason, he believes I’m attracted to him. I mean, I had to flirt to get off with a warning, but he feels like the type who’d get even if I diss him.
I take a deep breath when the door of the police vehicle opens. An officer, a big one, ambles from the driver’s side, and I let out a breath of relief.
My hands still shaking, I roll down my window. “Why, Sheriff Colson, I’m sure I was below the speed limit.”
“That you were, but I believe you have someone in your trunk.” He winks, and I know he’s just striking up conversation about the witch’s legs and lace-up boots I have dangling out the back.
“Want to follow me to the Bee Sting?” I wink back at him. “We still need to check out the haunts and go through all the bedrooms for a security check.”
“Sure. As long as it’s official business,” he says with a tip of his cowboy hat.
“Police business, always.” I blow him a kiss. “Includes surveillance, personal protection, and property patrols. You promised to keep my grand opening safe.”
“I’ll never let you down,” he says.
“So, you’ll come to the party as my date? I mean as the plainclothes detective to keep an eye on the ghosts?”
“Oh, I’ll keep my eye on something more substantial than a ghost.” He gives me the once-over and makes a kissing motion with his lips. “See you at the Bee Sting in fifteen. No speeding. No running red lights. Use your turn signals, and make sure to have your car inspected annually. I’m warning you.”
“I love your warnings, Sheriff. Can’t wait when you cuff and charge me.” I make a smooching sound and lick my lips.
“Keep it up, and I just might.” Todd tips his hat again and swaggers back to the PPV.
Just watching that hunk of a man move has warm fuzzies gushing all over me. I hug myself, and my tired bones try to quiver with excitement. Tonight is going to be so grand, even if the only reason Todd is coming to the party is official police business.
This big boy is still pretending we have nothing going on. He says he’s the sheriff, and he can’t have the town gossiping about us—it would be a conflict of interest in case he has to arrest me for a crime.
