Page 65 of Brazen

“Promise I won’t scare you off?”

“There’s no way you could ever scare me off. If you left, I’d die of boredom.” She slides her hand in mine.

“Well, we wouldn’t want that.”

“No, we wouldn’t.” We drive in silence for a moment. “Hey, you didn’t tell me what you wished for.”

“Well, you remember what you told me in the bedroom before we left.”

“I do.”

“So I wished that, for once, I could convince the sheriff’s deputy I’m seeing to break the speed limit.”

“That seems like a tame wish,” I say, pressing on the gas pedal.

“That’s because you haven’t seen what I’m wearing under this outfit.” She takes out her phone and pushes a photo in front of my face.

“Holy damn,” I hiss.

“Yeah, and when you get all this off, I’m going to—” She leans over and whispers in my ear.

“Make sure your seatbelt is tight. We’re about to set a land speed record.” She squeals when I press the pedal farther.

I don’t even know how I’ll do half of what she whispered, but if it makes her happy, I’ll do anything. I’d even be willing to get shot by a firecracker all over again if it makes Eliot happy.

How can life be this easy? You move to a small town, answer a disturbance call, and the most beautiful woman on the planet falls into your arms. Maybe it wasn’t quite that fast, but you know what I mean.

I feel the smile on my face as I snuggle Eliot up against me. If she thinks the first thirty years of her life were good, just wait until the next thirty. I plan to be there every moment. I can’t wait to play Clyde to her Bonnie.

epilogue

ELIOT

“It’s notthe end of the world,” I assure Owen as he sits on the couch with a scowl on his face. Poor man. He didn’t know what he was getting into when he chose to live with two women; one a teenager. “I promise there have been no recorded pregnancies resulting from the seventh-grade school dance.”

“You can’t possibly know that.”

“Trust me, I would have heard about it by now.”

He snorts in derision. I roll my eyes.

“Knock-knock,” Austen announces, opening the door.

“We’re in the living room,” I call.

That’s how we do it in this small town. You leave your door unlocked when you’re home so anyone can waltz in. I know, it doesn’t make sense to me either.

“Wow, that’s an impressive scowl,” Brontë points out as she enters the room behind Austen. “Reminds me of Dad every time any of us had a date. Where is the lucky girl anyway?”

“In her room hiding from her uncle,” I answer.

“She is not,” he replies.

“Mm-hm, sure. Can I get anyone something to drink?”

“Wine,” my sisters respond in unison.

“Bring it to us,” Brontë adds. “We need to get the hair started. I assume she’s all waxed and everything?” She laughs when Owen’s head shoots up. “Just kidding. You might need to do something with that before his head explodes.” With a flick of her hair, she heads down the hallway toward Tessa’s room with Austen on her heels.

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