Kiss Me, Sheriff!

by Wendy Warren

  “Amazing,” Willa murmured.

  “I like it a lot. I like it even more with you here.”

  He wanted her in that king-sized bed, opening her gorgeous stormy eyes to the sight of the mountain. He wanted a love as strong, as permanent as Thunder Ridge itself.

  If he and Willa made love tonight, it would be incredible. But dangerous, too, affirming that they were having an affair and suggesting he could be satisfied by the bits and pieces of her life that she was willing to share.

  The parameters she’d set for their relationship were built on a foundation of some trauma she refused to confide. Someday, it would be different. He would wait. He would wait as long it took.

  “I have a T-shirt you can wear,” he told her.

  “Will I need something to sleep in?”

  Time stopped. Their gazes caught and held. Taking a big breath, he tucked her hair behind her ears. “Couple years ago, I came home after a really hard day and made a pan of brownies. I couldn’t wait for them to be ready, so I took them out of the oven early. After the first bite, I knew I’d blown it. They were like pudding in the middle. I figured I could put them back in the oven and try again, but they were never right after that, and I realized it was possible to ruin something that should have been great, by trying to hurry it. Know what I mean?”

  Willa frowned heavily. “I know you need baking lessons. And this is a really weird time to be talking about brownies.”

  His laughter was self-deprecating. “Right on both counts. I suck at parables.” Holding her face between his hands, he looked into her eyes. “I don’t want brownies. I want us. I want us to come out right, Willa. I think that’s going to take more time.”

  Her lips parted. Two spots of color appeared on her cheeks. “But we’ve known each other over a year.”

  He could see her confusion. She was trying to process his sudden change in direction. Damn. He wanted to kick his own butt for not handling this better. Tamping down his guilt, he crossed to his dresser, withdrew the T-shirt and handed it to her.

  “Clean towels are in the master bath and toothbrush is in the medicine cabinet. TV, radio, phone are at your disposal. Use anything you want.” Her gaze lowered to the cotton T she held tightly in her hands. “I’ll be in the guest room, second door on the left as you enter the hallway, if you need anything. Will you be all right?”

  She nodded without looking up.

  “Sweet dreams,” he said quietly.

  He left the room, acutely aware that she hadn’t answered.

  * * *

  Two mornings later, the bells on Something Sweet’s door jangled, alerting Willa that another customer had arrived. The early birds had already come and gone, and the eight o’clock, post-school drop-off crowd wouldn’t swoop in for several more minutes.

  Willa nearly dropped an entire tray of onion bialys as Derek filled her doorway. Instantly, her pulse accelerated in anticipation, flagrantly disobeying her brain, which said, He has a lot of explaining to do.

  Last night, she had slept in her own bed again, though “slept” was a misnomer. Mostly, she had tossed and turned and wrestled with covers that had felt too hot and too heavy even though it was still snowing outside.

  She hadn’t stopped thinking about Derek for more than a couple of minutes at a time in the past thirty-two hours, having tossed and turned all night at his place, too. For the second time, Derek had primed the pump like a man dying of thirst and then walked away from the well. What was up with that? His stories about immediate gratification and undercooked brownies did not cut it as an explanation.

  Smiling, he ambled up, resting his arms on the high glass display case. He looked clear-eyed, energetic, fresh as a daisy. I hate him. Lack of sleep had drawn dark circles beneath her eyes, and, having spent her mental energy on fretting, she hadn’t had the motivation to do anything more this morning than swipe on some lip gloss and sweep her hair into a bun.

  “Good morning.” His voice reminded her of the coffee she was brewing, smooth and rich.

  With Gilberto present the morning after she’d slept at Derek’s, Willa hadn’t had the opportunity to address her confusion over the way the night had ended. Truthfully, she hadn’t even known how to go about it. Now, with him standing right in front of her, she felt heat rise up her neck and into her cheeks. She still had no idea how to ask, Why don’t you want to make love to me?

  Her eyes pricked with tears just from thinking it. Lowering her head, she gave herself a stern talking to while she transferred bialys to the display case. Keep your cool. Do not hint that you feel rejected. I forbid you to sound pathetic. He’s acting like nothing happened, so that is exactly what you’ll do.

  “Hi there,” she said breezily. “Nice to see you this morning. Would you like some coffee? There’s a fresh pot brewing.” With rapid movements, she placed the last of the bialys in the case. “Not that you look like you need the caffeine. Uh-uh. You seem very well rested. I’m going to put this tray away and be right back.” Baking sheet in hand, she stomped to the kitchen, let the tray clatter into the sink and, ignoring Norman Bluehorse’s uncharacteristically inquisitive look, returned to the front.

  Back behind the counter, she refused to look Derek in the eye. For the first time, she saw that he’d placed a sheet of neon-yellow paper on the glass top. “What’s that?” She pointed.

  Glancing down as if he hadn’t noticed it, either, he looked so gorgeously masculine and thickheaded, she almost forgave him on the spot.

  “It’s a flyer. About Rudy Gunnersun’s barn dance.” He sounded as uncomfortable as she felt. “This Friday.”

  “I heard about it. Do you want me to put the flyer up in my window?”

  His expression said that was the furthest thing from his mind. “No. I came to ask if you’d go with me.”

  “Oh. I see.” She heard her foot tapping the stained-concrete floor. “Actually, no, I don’t see.” Had he somehow missed the signals she was giving him? “Look, I appreciate the dates, this whole courtship thing, but in case I haven’t made myself perfectly clear—I’m easy.”

  Her heart thumped against her ribs. Well. That was more forward than she’d been in years. Actually, more forward than she’d ever been.

  Derek put his hands on his hips, studying her. “No.” He shook his head. “You sure as hell are not.”

  “Okay, I walked right into that one. I realize I’m not the easiest person. We’ve already covered that territory. But as far as a sexual relationship goes, I invited you back to my house with no time limit on how long you could stay, which I think was a pretty big hint, and the other night, I told you I wanted to spend the night with you at your place.”

  “You think that makes you a sure bet?”

  She gaped at him. “Uh...yeah. Derek, I flat out told you I’m ready for an affair. And you walked away. Twice. What more does a woman need to do to convince you she wants to sleep with you? Put a rose between her teeth and dance naked on the coffee table?”

  “Sounds promising,” he said drolly. “You said some pretty important things just now. I want to address them. But not here.”

  “I shouldn’t have even brought it up. There are too many ears, and I have too much to do.”

  “Okay. Tonight then? No, wait—” He frowned. “I have Gilberto now, and I haven’t asked anyone yet if they’d be willing to babysit an eleven-year-old boy.”

  “With an excess of energy,” she added.

  “Exactly. And I’m not comfortable leaving him on his own yet.”

  “I’d offer to watch him, of course, but...”

  “That would defeat the purpose.”

  “Right.”

  “And I want to talk soon. Which brings us back to Friday.”

  “The barn dance?” she said doubtfully, setting the plates on a serving tray. “Not e
xactly private.”

  “Could be. I responded to a suspected prowler call once at Rudy’s place. I know all the hideaways. And Gilberto will have other kids to hang with. My guess is we won’t have any trouble finding time to talk about...your concerns.”

  Her biggest concern was that she’d somehow misread him. But he was right: she didn’t want to spend any more time obsessing about it, so they needed to talk about it soon.

  As the bell on the door jangled again, she said, “The morning rush is about to start. I’d better get to work.”

  “Okay.” Derek cocked his finger at her. “Friday. ’Berto and I will pick you up at six.” Leaning close, he murmured, “I’d like to kiss you.”

  He would? She pulled her lower lip between her teeth to keep from smiling like a ninny. “Oh?”

  “Yeah, but that would be like taking out a front-page ad in the Thunder Ridge Gazette.”

  She nodded. “That’s probably pushing it.”

  He reached for her hand and raised it to his lips. Goose bumps shivered along her arm.

  Releasing her with a smile, he headed for the door, holding it as moms in sweatpants and heavy boots tumbled in. “Good morning, ladies,” he nodded, tossing one final look back at Willa, who stared after him as he walked down the street.

  Okay, snap out of it now. Immediately, she started a second pot of coffee, knowing she’d be pouring steadily for the next hour. It was back to business as usual. Thank heavens.

  * * *

  Rudy Gunnersun’s giant barn was so well lit, Willa could see the glow spilling over the landscape and into the hills.

  As she, Derek and Gilberto walked from Derek’s truck to the wide-open doors, she spied half the town inside, warmed by a wealth of heat lamps and the music of Hanging by a Thread, an all-female, all-strings band. Entertained by vigorous fiddling, Rudy’s guests gathered around food tables set against the far wall under the haymow or lined up in front of kegs that flowed with cider and beer.

  Everyone knew the festivities were part of Rudy’s bid to oust Thunder Ridge’s incumbent mayor, and it wasn’t as if Rudy tried to hide that fact. Giant posters with his smiling face decorated every wall.

  “Vote FUN, Vote GunnerSUN?” Derek read one of the captions. “It looks like Rudy’s running for the mayor of Never-Never Land.”

  “Shh,” Willa chided, trying to stifle a grin. “Do you think Mayor Ellison is concerned about an upset? There are an awful lot of people here.”

  “Ellison has an indoor softball tournament scheduled for next week. The same people will be there.”

  The hand Derek placed on the small of her back and the grin he sent her made her feel as if they’d been a couple for years and that this was simply another of those small-town social engagements they were required to keep. It didn’t feel bad at all.

  “I see my friends,” Gilberto told them, waiting for the okay from Derek before running off to hang with them.

  Out of uniform tonight, Derek was hands down the best-looking man in the barn. Or in town.

  Or possibly in the state, Willa thought as she studied her date. A V-neck knit sweater in a deep wine color topped black jeans that left no doubt about the sheriff’s level of fitness. His arms looked as strong as a lumberjack’s, and his belly was flat. Over the sweater, he wore a leather jacket as black as his hair.

  She had decided to wear heels tonight, hoping to make it easier to dance with a man ten inches taller. Even in her stack-heeled boots, however, he dwarfed her by the sheer breadth of his shoulders and chest. Still, his gaze, his touch, left her feeling strong as well as cherished.

  “What are you thinking? Right now,” he demanded.

  Willa responded immediately with the truth. “That you’re not at all my type.”

  Rearing his head back, Derek released the most robust laugh she’d heard from him yet. She loved that he was so settled in his own skin, so comfortable he didn’t offend easily.

  “What’s your type?” he asked.

  She considered. “Refined. Intellectual. More yuppie, less classic macho hero.”

  The hand on her back began massaging in slow circles. His eyes lowered in heavy-lidded seduction mode. “You had me at ‘classic macho hero.’”

  It was Willa’s turn to laugh, pleasure filling her right down to her toes. She was happy when she was with Derek. Just...happy. “Would you like to dance, Sheriff?”

  With the hand that was on her back, he pressed her close. “I sure would. As I recall, dancing together is something you and I do very well. Let’s go.”

  Taking her hand, he led her to the dance floor, where they started out two-stepping to “All About Tonight” and slow danced while Hanging by a Thread played “Bless the Broken Road.” The band announced a break, and the couples on the floor began to disperse, all except Willa and Derek, who continued to sway while looking into each other’s eyes.

  “You wanted an explanation for why we haven’t made love yet.”

  The mere thrum of his voice sent internal shivers racing through her veins. Everywhere they touched, her body felt awake and on fire.

  “Now would be a really unfortunate time to mention that you’re gay.” She spoke hoarsely, relieved when the corners of his eyes crinkled.

  “I’m not.”

  “Whew.” She glanced around them at the nearly empty dance floor. “So, it’s not exactly private out here. Given the nature of our conversation, I mean.”

  “Hide in plain sight. Best tactic ever invented.”

  “If you say so.” A devil dancing in his eyes mesmerized her. He could tell her almost anything right now, and she’d believe it.

  “I’m not a one-night man,” Derek said, his expression and voice turning instantly more serious. “And you are not a one-night woman.”

  She blinked, genuinely confused. “Who said anything about one night?”

  “One night, one week...if you put a time limit on it, it’s sex, not a relationship.”

  “Okay, you kinda sounded like a girl just then.”

  The cockeyed grin she loved came out in full force. “I may be macho, but I’m also deeply sensitive.”

  “That time, you managed to sound sexy. Bravo.” Facetiously, she asked, “Sooo, you’re afraid I’ll take you for granted?”

  Until that moment, they had continued to sway, even though the music had stopped. Now Derek stilled. “I don’t want to take you for granted.”

  This time, emotion caused the shivers that ran through her body, and that was far more dangerous than sexual shivers. “You would never take me for granted,” she whispered, knowing it was the absolute truth. “Ever.”

  Tightening his hold on her waist, he lowered his head. They stood on the dance floor, forehead to forehead, the sliver of space between them electrified by anticipation. Just a tiny move toward each other, and they’d be kissing. They both knew how good that was.

  A bright flash temporarily blinded Willa.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Derek’s irritated snap surprised Willa almost as much as the flash of light.

  “Smile! You two look so cute together. Can I interest you in a souvenir photo? All proceeds go toward the Gunnersun mayoral campaign.”

  “I don’t believe it.” Derek rolled his eyes. “Who gave you a camera?”

  Holliday Bailey shot Derek her trademark wide, sexy smile. “Rudy. He saw some of my photos in the library. I’m taking a photography class online. It turns out I have a natural gift. Just one among many.” She batted her long lashes.

  When Willa had first worked at the deli, she’d spent a fair amount of time wondering if the ever-bickering Holliday and Derek were interested in each other. Now she knew the opposite was true: they annoyed the heck out of each other. Sometimes on purpose.

  “If this dance had a king and
queen, you’d get my vote,” Holliday purred then opened her eyes wide. “Hey, what a great idea! We’ll start an impromptu ballot. I’m sure I can scrounge up a tiara.”

  “Don’t even think about it.” Derek glowered in warning.

  The redhead laughed. “Speaking of killjoys, you’d better check on the little man you’ve been palling around with. He was last seen polishing off the dessert table.”

  “So that’s where he’s been.” Willa looked at Derek. “He’s going to make himself sick. We’d better go.”

  “How about we let Derek do the dirty work?” Looping her arm through Willa’s, Holliday tugged her away. “He’s not allowed to keep you all to himself now that you’re finally out of the bakery. We girls can grab something to eat with Izzy and a few members of the Thursday night book club. I know they’d love for you to recommend your favorite cookbooks.”

  Holliday kept chatting while Willa tried not to look back at Derek for rescue, or to think about the almost-kiss Holliday had interrupted. She spent the next quarter hour or so chatting with Izzy and with Holliday’s book group, which included Carly Levine, Gilberto’s fifth-grade teacher.

  “It’s amazing, the progress Gilberto has made since he moved in with Sheriff Neel.” Carly, who, Willa guessed, was in her thirties, beamed. “And the tutoring you’ve been giving him has been seriously helpful, Willa. He talks about it. His self-esteem has skyrocketed, and his attendance has jumped from forty to one hundred percent. Everyone at school is thrilled. Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me,” Willa demurred. “Derek’s the one holding the reins. I think Gilberto is his special project.”

  “That’s great, but don’t sell yourself short,” Carly said. “If he’s ever had a woman in his life before, this is the first time it’s shown.” She looked around the room. “I’d better go find my husband. I’ve left him alone far too long to talk local politics with city council members. Makes him cranky.”

  After Carly left, Izzy said, “She’s right. You’re both doing a great job with that boy.”