Page 2 of Color of Love

“Desperate times and all that,” she shrugged. He was right, normally she wouldn’t be on a date during the week but with tomorrow being her first session with Blake, she needed something to take her mind off her nerves.

“Well, let me know if you need rescuing at all,” Beau said, and Justine gestured towards his date, who currently had her hand in her bra trying to get her cleavage to really pop.

“You too.”

Beau glanced at his date and chuckled, “I think I’ll be fine, she’s a little handsy but I like that,” he replied loudly, his gaze flickering to Taylor’s back before moving away again and Justine thought she heard Taylor snort.

“Two beers Taylor, hold the arsenic. Bring them over to us whenever you’re ready,” he said, then winked at Justine and sauntered away.

“Thank you!” Taylor called after him sarcastically.

“You’re welcome!” He threw back over his shoulder and Justine watched as rage reddened Taylor’s cheeks.

“You brought that on yourself, chica,” she said, and Taylor turned her glare on Justine.

“Card or cash?” Taylor seethed through clenched teeth. Justine laughed and handed over her credit card. As Taylor walked off to grab the card reader, Justine felt heat envelope her, followed by the heady scent of spice and sin. She recognized the scent, it was already ingrained in her. She turned and found herself face to face with a pair of silver eyes that had haunted her dreams for months.

Her new client had entered the bar.

*

Deputy Sheriff Blake Miller parked his squad car in the lot of the Rusty Bucket Inn and switched off the engine. He sat there for a moment, contemplating going inside. He wasn’t a big fan of crowds, they tended to be a trigger for him. Despite being honorably discharged from the military four years earlier, Blake still suffered from PTSD. He had been relieved to find out he was being transferred from the large, bustling Anderson County to the sleepy, rural town of Citrus Pines in a much smaller county. There had been conditions attached to the transfer: he was also doing it to save his career.

Blake had had a tough few years. His wife Katie had committed suicide while he was on tour with his military unit. He’d been devastated and guilt-ridden by the loss, and incapable of continuing with his unit, psychologically unable to perform his duties effectively. He was a great soldier, an asset to the unit and had never had any issues before, which is why he was discharged before his issues risked any of his fellow soldiers’ lives.

He came home to grieve but he soon found himself struggling to manage with nothing to do to occupy his thoughts. So, he joined the Anderson County Sheriff’s Department, and began training to be a deputy sheriff. He worked hard, proving himself over and over again, pushing himself to the limit and eventually he was ready to start campaigning to become sheriff.

He loved his job but after everything that happened, the trauma and stress started to build up and he fell into a downward spiral culminating in displaying poor judgment over a call that came in one day. There was a report of a suicide attempt, on top of one of the buildings in the town center. He was the closest responder and despite not being trained to handle this specific situation, he decided to attend to try and contain the incident before help arrived.

His lack of experience ended in disaster. The woman jumped. She screamed all the way down and then…silence. He still heard it in his dreams, sometimes even when he was awake. A shudder tore through him, and he shook his head. Don’t spiral into your thoughts tonight. His sheriff had called him into the office a few days after the incident and given him an ultimatum: ‘Sort yourself out or you’ve lost our support for sheriff.’

So here he was. Citrus Pines was currently without a sheriff. Blake was sent in as a second deputy with the ambition that he would soon become the new sheriff if he worked on his mental health. Yes, he was glad to be out of the big county and into a small town for the sake of his mental health. But he also knew that small town life was close-knit: everyone knew everybody’s business. Blake just wanted to be left alone, he didn’t want anyone discovering what a mess he was.

His move had come with conditions. He had to visit a psychologist once a week and work through his issues. The psychologist had to report weekly on his progress and if no progress had been made, he was gone. He’d seen therapists, psychiatrists, and psychologists in the past, but no one had helped. Granted, he didn’t try very hard, he wasn’t exactly the poster boy for good mental health. But he hadn’t connected with any of them, they hadn’t known the right way to reach him, and he’d shut down each time he was passed on to someone new. His guard was so high now he didn’t think it would ever come down.

He didn’t hold out much hope for the new psychologist that he’d been assigned to, Dr. Rodríguez-Hamilton. A small-town psychologist was likely to be more of a quack than the big city boys had been. Blake’s only hope was that the doctor wasn’t ingrained in the community and therefore unlikely to share anything he learned about the new deputy with friends. Blake was dreading their first session tomorrow, which is how he found himself in the parking lot of the Rusty Bucket Inn. He needed a stiff drink to help him relax if he had any hope of sleeping tonight.

He steeled himself, trying to calm the anxiety eating away at him and went inside. Luckily it was a weeknight and not that busy, it tended to get crowded at the weekends which was partly why Blake came tonight. He wanted to learn to cope around crowds again, he wanted to push himself, but not far enough to send him spiralling, he needed to take baby steps. He glanced around the rustic bar; he really liked it here. It was cozy, the epitome of small-town vibes and it had a good, honest feel to it. He knew the owner, Taylor, and liked her too, having helped her out on a couple of occasions.

He took in the surroundings: the rock and roll music playing softly in the background, the glasses clinking, and the low murmur of conversation. He scanned the crowd, taking note of everyone, assessing each of them for any potential threat. He planned his exit strategy in case of emergencies, a habit from his military days that he just couldn’t shake. He went over to the bar and leaned against it, waiting for Taylor to serve him.

He noticed the woman standing next to him, hell, had noticed her the second he walked in. The orange satin dress she wore hugged her sinful curves tightly like it had been poured onto her. The color of the dress complimented her mocha skin in a mouth-watering, pants-tightening, palm-sweating way. Her chocolate hair cascaded down her back in soft waves. She tossed her hair, and he was immediately enveloped in a cloud of vanilla and cocoa. God, she smells good. The heady scent filling his nostrils so thickly he could practically taste it. She turned to face him, and he felt like he’d been punched in the gut. It was her.

He had seen her around a few times when he’d been called here by Taylor. Each time he spotted her, she disappeared after a few minutes, and he didn’t see her again. He didn’t even know her name, she was a mystery to him. Her eyes, a couple of shades lighter than her hair, reminded him of warm honey; widened when she saw him.

He ran his gaze over her, lingering to truly take her in. Her bowshaped mouth was painted red, and had formed an O of surprise. She had a small mole in the corner of her mouth that was begging to be licked. He tried to steer his thoughts away from going down that path, but his eyes continued their journey. Her breasts were the size of a handful, not large and not small but her hips had a delicious flare to them. Her long legs were hidden by the dress, but her dainty feet were strapped into a pair of sexy black sandals.

There was no denying she was a beautiful woman, her features perfectly put together, her body designed by every teenager’s fantasy. She was a temptress, he could tell, luring men with her wiles and showing them exactly what she could do with that mouth and body.

Her brow furrowed at his perusal. He hadn’t meant to be so blatant but this was the first time he had gotten a good look at her and he wanted to make the most of it before she disappeared again. She ran her eyes over him in turn, her stare bland and bored before she turned away, immediately dismissing him. Did little Miss Sinful not like what she saw? Didn’t think he was good enough for her?

He chuckled to himself and muttered, “Don’t worry, honey, I’m not interested in you either.”

She stiffened next to him. Shit, he hadn’t meant for her to hear him. He opened his mouth to apologize for acting like an asshole, but she tossed her hair again, grabbing her drinks and walking away. Blake watched her go back to her date, curvy hips swaying as she went. Damn that was sexy. Although he usually preferred his women more subtle and demure, everything about Miss Sinful screamed the opposite.

Still, that was no excuse for objectifying her the way he had, he’d clearly not been in social situations for a while, his skills were more than a little rusty. Judging by how tight his pants were getting while he looked at her, he also needed to get laid. It had been far too long. Blake shook himself and turned back to Taylor who was watching him, a smirk on her face.

“Hey Blake, how ya doing?”

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