The Sheriff (Men of the White Sandy Book 5)

by Sarah M. Anderson

  “Your ice melted,” she told him.

  “Yeah.” Great. He sounded like an idiot, but he couldn’t seem to get his brain or his mouth to function.

  Something in her eyes changed. “I’m sorry I woke you up,” she said, her voice growing even quieter.

  “It’s okay,” he said, mentally ordering his brain to get with it. “I should get up anyway.”

  Neither of them moved. He still had her head bracketed with his forearms, her one hand pinned over her head. She was still lightly tracing his ribs.

  And he was going to kiss her. It probably wasn’t the right thing to do. It definitely wasn’t the smart thing to do. There were a lot of really good reasons why he shouldn’t cross this line with her. But he was having trouble thinking of any of them right now.

  All he could think about was the way her body fit against his, how pretty she was.

  How she wasn’t clawing his eyes out or calling him names.

  She moved first. Her free hand left his bandage behind and skimmed over his chest, then up his neck. She stroked the side of his face and tucked a hank of his hair behind his ear. Then, somehow, her fingers were tangled in his hair and she was pulling him down to her.

  “Summer,” he whispered against her skin and then he was kissing her. Maybe this was just a hyper-real dream, because the feel of Summer, the way her mouth moved against his, the way she opened and sighed into him—this couldn’t be real. If he was asleep, he sure as hell didn’t want to wake up.

  Summer’s tongue traced his lips and he groaned. He shifted and she shifted with him, her legs wrapping around his and pulling him down harder into her. God, how long had it been? Months? Years? He couldn’t remember. All he knew was it had been too long since he’d been tangled up with a woman in this bed, lips and hands and legs everywhere.

  He shifted again, releasing her wrist and propping himself up so he could touch her. He cupped her breast and squeezed—maybe not as gently as he should have, because she gasped and broke the kiss. But before he could apologize for being too rough, she arched into his touch, her head thrown back against the pillow and her mouth open.

  “Pretty,” he managed to get out and then his hips moved without his explicit permission, grinding his dick against her. “So damn pretty,” he said again because it was true and also because he didn’t want her to leave. Not now.

  “Tim…”

  In the other room, his phone rang.

  They both froze, eyes wide.

  “I’m supposed to be checking on you,” she whispered.

  “I’m supposed to be down at the station,” he replied.

  Neither one moved. The phone kept ringing.

  Summer’s lips twisted into a smile Tim hoped was more amused than anything else. Then she shifted and put her hands on his chest. With a gentle push, she said, “Here. Sit back and let me look at you.”

  Tim lifted an eyebrow at her but did as she asked, sitting on his heels. She scooted into a cross-legged position, still close enough to touch. But he didn’t. The moment was over and his brain had stopped misfiring. He shouldn’t be fooling around with the guardian of someone in his custody. Not if he wanted to and not even if she wanted to.

  She started to unwrap the bandage around his chest. The ice had melted completely and the whole thing was sopping. He glanced down and saw her shirt was wet too, from where he’d been laying on her. “Sorry,” he said as she worked.

  “For what?” Somehow she managed to sound like this was just another day. Maybe it was for her.

  But it wasn’t for him. “For…” He was pretty sure there were several things he needed to apologize for. But he wasn’t as awake as he’d like to be. Not yet, anyway. “I sort of tackled you.” It could have been worse, he realized. His gun wasn’t under the pillow where it normally was. If he’d managed to get a grip on his pistol, he didn’t think the encounter would’ve ended with kissing. Thank God for small favors.

  She shrugged. “I sort of snuck up on you while you were sleeping. Your self-preservation instincts are hardwired, aren’t they? Oh,” she gasped as the bandage fell away and she got a good look at his chest.

  “How bad is it?” Tim tried to glance down but he didn’t have a good angle on it and he couldn’t bend to get a better one without his ribs screaming in protest.

  “It’s…” She looked up at him and he thought she looked green around the gills. “Maybe you should go to the clinic,” she finished.

  Tim took a couple deep breaths but there was no stabbing pain. Just the dull ache. He could live with a dull ache. “I don’t think anything’s broken and if it is, all they can do is wrap it.”

  Her gaze dropped back to what must be some truly spectacular bruising. “Are you sure?”

  It was odd, having someone worry about him. Sure, Jack worried about him—but only to the extent of whether Tim could still do his job.

  No one was ever worried about him. And just like that, he wanted to kiss her more. Harder.

  The phone rang again. “Dammit,” he mumbled. He leaned down as best he could without losing his balance or making his ribs scream and he pressed his lips to hers. But quickly. “I have to go.” He scooted off the bed and made sure his legs were under him.

  “At least let me wrap your chest,” she said as he slid his closet door open and reached for a clean uniform shirt. “If nothing else, you need the extra padding.”

  He half turned to look at her. She climbed off the bed and waited. His first instinct was to say he didn’t need any extra padding. But the half turn had strained his ribs and besides, he was finding it increasingly difficult to say no to her. “Okay.”

  He headed to the bathroom, where he’d left his first aid kit spread all over the counter. He dug around until he found another elastic bandage and handed it to her. Then he turned to face the mirror and got a good look at his body.

  The bruise was stunning, almost the size of a soccer ball. It started below his left pectoral muscle and wrapped around his side. On some level, he was aware he should hurt more than he did. Gunshots hurt like a bitch. Plus there wasn’t exactly a budget for replacing his dented armor. He was also aware that, if he had newer equipment, he might not have a bruise that looked this bad.

  “Arms up,” Summers said in an efficient voice. He did as he was told and lifted his arms up as high as they would go. The right one went farther than the left. Summer sighed, which made him smile.

  No doubt, she was thinking to herself, Men.

  “It’s not as bad as it looks,” he reassured her.

  “So you said.” She made a tsking noise as she wrapped the bandage around his chest. “Does this happen often?”

  Tim watched her in the mirror. The fuzziness of sleep was fading from his mind, but the urge to kiss her? Still there. “Which this? The part where I get shot or the part where I pin a beautiful woman to my bed and kiss her?”

  She paused, her shoulders tense. He shouldn’t have said that. He wasn’t sure if it was the nap or what, but this was not normally how he rolled.

  She continued to rewrap his chest. “Both, I suppose,” she said in a pinched voice and he knew he’d embarrassed her.

  “I don’t normally pin women to my bed. I didn’t realize it was you and again, I’m sorry I scared you.” He did not, however, apologize for kissing her. He wasn’t sure he would even if she punched him in the ribs.

  She adjusted the bandage and tucked in the loose ends. “And getting shot?”

  He tried to shrug but it pulled, so he stopped. “It happens. There are plenty of people who aren’t happy to see me. That’s nothing new.”

  Summer stood back and admired her handiwork. Then, in the mirror, she met his gaze. She looked like she wanted to say something—and God, Tim wanted her to say something. He wanted to know he hadn’t scared her. No, that wasn’t enough—he wanted to know she’d wanted him to keep kissing her, that he hadn’t misunderstood the way she kissed him back.

  “I don’t really know what I’m do
ing,” she said in a small voice. “I don’t think I belong here.”

  Tim was not the most sensitive guy. But he was pretty sure he caught her meaning. She didn’t know what she was doing kissing him. “You do,” he told her. “You can always come back to the rez.” Because if she came back…

  Tim was getting ahead of himself. He hadn’t even made it through today. And he had a lot of daylight left.

  They stood there for a moment longer, neither of them moving. This seemed to be a trend. Normally, Tim was a man of action. But not when Summer was around. He could stand here and look at her all day.

  She made a movement, like she wanted to step into him but then thought better of it. “Will I see you again later?” she asked.

  To hell with that. Tim lifted his right arm—the good one—and draped it over her shoulder, pulling her into him. “I have to deal with the state troopers and finish processing last night’s shootout. But after that—I sure hope so.”

  She leaned into him, her body warm against his. It was the sort of touch that seemed to say more kissing could happen. More everything could happen.

  What he wouldn’t give to pull her right back into the bed and curl up with her.

  God, he liked holding her. They looked good together. Her head came up to his chin and, as she leaned against his shoulder, he found himself wanting to make all sorts of promises to her, how he’d keep her safe and keep her loved.

  “You didn’t, you know. Scare me.”

  He looked down at her. “Do you normally have men pounce on you like that?”

  She shook her head. “I’m pretty sure that was the first time.”

  “Still, I’ll try not to do it again. The pouncing, that is.”

  Something in her eyes changed—deepened. She reached up and stroked his cheek. “Right. No more pouncing.”

  His heart began to pound because that sounded almost like an invitation. What the hell. She was already in his arms. He was already in deep. “I’m going to kiss you again.”

  “Oh.” Her eyes fluttered and she tilted her head back—and the damned phone rang again.

  Tim groaned and Summer stepped away from him. “Tonight?”

  Hell, yeah. “Tonight,” he agreed.

  “Good.” She stood on her tiptoes to press her lips against his—another short kiss that held more promise than heat. “Now go.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” So he went.

  But he was coming back tonight.

  Chapter Eight

  Summer was supposed to be paying attention to her brother and the work he was doing at the Clinic. Sure, her eyes were pointed in Georgey’s general direction. But that wasn’t what she saw.

  Instead, she saw Tim Means above her, sleep thick in his eyes and his body heavy on hers. She saw the moment when he’d realized who she was—and the moment when he hadn’t rolled off her. She relived touching him, the way his eyelids had fluttered and he’d shivered—actually shivered. Because of her.

  And that kiss… God, the feeling of his lips against hers, the weight of his body pressing down on her? The way he’d stared into her eyes in the bathroom and told her he was going to kiss her again later?

  She touched her lips and smiled. So the whole summer-fling thing was a go, it seemed. There was only one problem with it.

  Georgey. He was dripping sweat and every time he moved, Summer got that much closer to hosing him off. Why did teen boys smell so much? She honestly couldn’t tell if that was just boy sweat or if he’d layered on some body spray to intentionally smell that bad. Whatever it was, Summer was surprised the staff of the Clinic hadn’t said something. The kid was a one-man health hazard.

  Despite the eye-watering odor, Georgey got the window in. Clarence, the big male nurse, came over and looked over Georgey's work because Summer didn’t have a clue if the glass was in correctly or not.

  She half expected Georgey to cop an attitude with Clarence, but he didn’t. Instead, it seemed like the kid hung on Clarence’s approval. He looked nervous—although that could’ve been because he didn’t want to redo the window. Or because he was afraid of Clarence.

  Clarence took his sweet time studying the window. He hmm-ed and uh-huh-ed a couple times until Georgey apparently couldn’t take it anymore.

  “Well?” the boy demanded.

  Clarence gave him a dull look. “You got someplace else you need to be?” he said in a voice that got perilously close to booming.

  “No, sir,” Georgey quickly answered, dropping his chin.

  Summer hid her smile behind her hand. But she didn’t dare interrupt Clarence. He reminded her of the assistant principal at her high school, Mr. Schunking, who also coached the wrestling team.

  “Not bad, for a kid,” Clarence finally pronounced in serious tones. He tapped on the glass and Summer held her breath—what if the whole thing flipped out?

  But it held.

  “Now what?” Georgey said. “I fixed it. I’m done, right?”

  Clarence snorted and glanced over at Summer. “You got anything you need him for?”

  “Um…” She hadn’t gotten that far. She hadn’t realized Georgey was going to get the window done today and she’d been too busy thinking about kissing the sheriff.

  “Because my wife could use a hand next door. At the Child Care Center,” Clarence explained when it became obvious Summer no idea what he was talking about. He sighed. “Dr. Mitchell’s sister runs it with my wife—it’s the only daycare on the rez. But Tammy’s seven months pregnant and she can’t chase the kids around.” He swung his massive head back around to Georgey. “Can you play soccer?”

  “It’s not complicated,” Georgey said as he rolled his eyes. “It’s just kicking a ball around.”

  “So you think you can handle it?” Clarence replied, unperturbed by the attitude. Then again, Summer found it hard to believe there was much that bothered the big man.

  Georgey looked at Clarence suspiciously, then he turned to Summer and waited. For permission, she realized. Was he tacitly agreeing Summer was in charge? Well, wasn’t that something?

  “That’s fine.” Because frankly, she wasn’t sure what else to do with the boy just yet—and she wasn’t ready to go back to Tim’s house, either. Not with Georgey in tow. How was she supposed to act with Tim while Georgey was hanging around? “Congratulations,” she added to Clarence. “Is this your first one?”

  The big man’s whole face softened into a wide smile. “We also have a six-year-old—my adopted son.”

  We are all family. Summer couldn’t help the pang of jealousy that went through her. She glanced at Georgey and saw he was staring at the ground.

  What would their lives had been like if their stepparents had welcomed them into each other’s homes? If they’d been a family, no matter what?

  Clarence walked over to the door that separated the Clinic from the daycare. “Babe?” he said in a quiet voice. “Georgey will help out.”

  “Oh, good,” an equally soft voice replied.

  Summer peeked around Clarence and saw that most of the kids were on cots—but not all of them were sleeping. A few older kids were either sitting at a small table or flopping around on the floor, reading. The room was an organized mess, with art on the walls and toys shoved onto shelves and in bins. But the whole room felt warm and fun.

  Clarence introduced Summer to his wife. Tammy Thunder was a small, plump and very pregnant young woman with a sweet smile—the kind of woman who was so obviously a natural with children it made Summer wonder if she could ever measure up.

  Which was sort of the wrong way to go about it. Summer could handle the bigger kids. It was just babies who made her nervous.

  “It’s good to meet you,” Tammy said in that quiet voice. She maneuvered over to a ragged-looking couch and sat down. Summer followed, but Georgey hung back by the door, looking awkward. “If you don’t mind, I thought I’d have Georgey run a soccer game. I just can’t keep up these days and Melonie had to go to court this afternoon.”


  “Melonie?”

  Tammy nodded. “My boss—Dr. Mitchell’s sister. Oh, and Nobody’s wife. I heard you met him?”

  Summer blushed. “I…did? I guess?”

  Tammy laughed. “That’s all most people can say. He’s hard to pin down.” She gave Summer a long look.

  Summer began to squirm and she wasn’t sure why. Tammy was, hands down, the easiest person to talk to on this reservation.

  “Why is your boss in court?”

  “Melonie? Oh, she’s an advocate. Tim arrested a couple of kids who were underage and she’s shepherding them through the system, making sure they have some place to go if they make bail.” She looked up to Georgey, who still looked horribly uncomfortable. “Including Shorty and Blaine.”

  Embarrassment flamed over his cheeks. “Yeah, I heard.”

  “Blaine had a concussion and a broken jaw. Did you know that?”

  Georgey shook his head and Summer had to turn to look at Tammy. Oh, she was a tough nut. Underneath that warm, soft exterior was a woman who took no crap. Summer liked her immensely.

  “Clarence fixed him up,” Tammy went on. “That could have been you, you know.”

  Georgey slumped against the doorframe in surrender. “I know,” he said, sounding miserable.

  A couple kids who’d been doing a lousy job pretending to be asleep sat up and stared openly. One little boy still had his thumb in his mouth.

  “Well!” Tammy said in a bright voice. A few more kids sat up. “I think it’s time for snacks and then Georgey’s going to play soccer with us! I think we’ll have Jamie lead one team and Georgey the other!”

  That got almost everyone up and cheering and suddenly the whole place was a swarming mass of excited children. Summer sat on the edge, answering all sorts of nosy questions from overenthusiastic kids without a filter. Who was she? What was her name? Was she really an Indian? Was she going to play soccer, too?