Once the bathroom door clicked, Tim was able to take a deep breath. “You don’t have to make me dinner.”
She turned the stove off. “I know. Don’t get used to it. I’ll be putting in some hours at the community college. And I’ll be able to take Georgey with me, so you won’t have to babysit him all day.”
“He was fine,” Tim said. He realized Summer was walking toward him and he felt that certainty all over again.
He could love her.
He would miss her when she left—he didn’t want her to go. Right now, he had no idea how to make her stay, either.
“How are you?” She touched her hand to his chest.
“Better.” He pulled her in to him and kissed her, because he wanted to, because it felt like the most natural thing in the world.
He lost track of time—of everything. Everything but the way she sighed into him and the way her body molded to his. He kissed her harder, tracing the seam of her lips with his tongue and groaning with satisfaction when she opened for him.
No one on this rez was ever glad to see him. Except for Summer Collins.
“Tim…” she sighed into him. In his ears, it sounded like a plea for something else. Something more.
He cupped her face and stared down at her. Something was different about her. “Are you okay?”
She laughed at that. “Better,” she breathed, leaning up on her tiptoes to brush her lips against his again. “I think I’m better.”
Tim groaned as she pulled his hat from his head and sank her fingers into his hair. This had to be a dream. There simply wasn’t any other explanation for the turn his life had taken this week. A beautiful woman waiting for him at the end of a long day? Homemade food? Her body pressing against his, her mouth exploring his?
“Oh, gross.”
Tim winced as Georgey waltzed back into the room. He’d just needed another minute. Or twenty. She’d been right about one thing last night—how were they supposed to do this with an opinionated teenage male in the house?
But instead of another editorial comment, Georgey walked over to the plate of cooling chicken and said, “Summer, are you gonna cook like this all the time when I live with you? Because if so, maybe it won’t be so bad. What’s this?”
The thing was, she hadn’t jerked herself out of Tim’s arms when Georgey came back in to the room. Instead, she leaned her head on his chest and just held him. “Mashed potatoes,” she said, glancing over her shoulder to see Georgey holding up the bowl of spuds. “Haven’t you ever had mashed potatoes before?”
“Well, yeah—but these are yellowish with green things in them.”
“Cheesy mashed potatoes with chives. They’re good, trust me.” She looked up at Tim. “I want to hear all about your day—the parts you can tell me,” she added before she turned back to the table.
All he could do was stand there in stunned silence. Was it wrong to want this? Was it wrong to want her?
No. No, it wasn’t.
He wanted her. It was brilliant in its simplicity.
Now he just had to figure out how to hold onto her, even for a little while.
He needed to call in a favor.
Chapter Eleven
“Morning, Jack.”
Jack stared blearily at Tim. He leaned against the door to his trailer, bare-chested and looking like he’d been run over by a semi-truck. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”
“Ten in the morning,” Tim replied. He’d been up for hours, but he didn’t dare wait any longer before he talked to Jack. And this wasn’t the sort of conversation he wanted to have over the phone. “I need a favor.”
“Oh, this is going to be rich.” Jack spun on his heel, leaving the door open. Tim took that as an invitation and followed the man inside. Jack basically lived in an RV, but had somehow managed to run water, electricity, and sewer to it. It was a newer vehicle, so everything was neat and clean.
“Nice place,” he said. Trailers like this cost money. What was it Clarence had told Georgey? It was better not to ask about Jack.
So Tim didn’t.
“Coffee?” Jack asked, sounding resigned to being awake. “Or are you going to insist on proper tea?”
“Coffee is fine, man.” Tim sat down at one of the chairs at the narrow dining table. “Are you getting any sleep?”
Jack snorted. “No, I’m entertaining visitors. What do you want, Tim? I know this isn’t about the job.”
Tim winced. He got on well with Jack, better than he did with most people. They functioned well as a unit. But they weren’t what he would call buddies. “It is, sort of. I need you to take Georgey on a ride-along, show him the night shift. He thinks he might want to be a cop after he helped Clarence dig rat shot out of Shorty’s ass.”
Jack froze for a moment, his hand halfway to the coffee maker. “Man,” he said slowly. “We need to hire a third guy, but are you serious? That punk kid? He never even made it through high school, as far as I can tell.”
Yeah, that was a problem. They did need another deputy—two would be better. They were relying too much on Nobody being an unofficial deputy and sooner or later, he was going to kill someone. “The kid’s dyslexic. I don’t think anyone realized. But his sister is going to get him up to speed, help him get his GED. And if that happens, we can throw him into the Army for a few years. They’ll teach them how to handle a gun, how to deal with conflict. He could make a good officer.”
Jack slammed two cups on the counter, his shoulder slumping. “You’ve lost your damned mind, you know that? That’s what—four? Five years into the future? More if the kid goes for an associates degree in criminal justice. That doesn’t help us now, Means.” He turned, arms crossed in defiance, and glared at Tim. “Now we’re relying on a vigilante to police our district. Now we don’t have the money to hire a third officer and if we did, who? Clarence? He could do it, but he’s busy sewing everyone up. I can’t keep doing this.” He exhaled hard and just looked tired again. “Admit it, old man—neither can you.”
This was what he got for waking Jack up early. But he didn’t have a choice. Summer was going to bring Georgey home early this afternoon and there weren’t any calls right now. He had to strike while the iron was hot.
He wasn’t going to rise to the bait. Jack could be pissy, for all Tim cared. “Just because it’s not an ideal solution doesn’t mean we should ignore it entirely.”
Jack’s jaw tensed. Then the coffeemaker beeped and Jack turned around. He silently filled the cups, but at least he didn’t slam the full mug in front of Tim and slosh hot coffee everywhere. “I know what this is about.”
“Do you?” Damn.
“That certain older sister who’s currently living in your house.” Jack leaned forward. “She’s pretty, isn’t she?”
If Tim were the kind of guy to blush, he might have worked up the energy to heat his cheeks. But he’d been interrogating people for far too long to buckle at that weak line of attack. “She’s taking care of her brother. It has nothing to do with me.” Lies, all lies.
He should’ve figured Jack would guess the truth. Yes, he wanted Georgey to experience all facets of police work before he committed his life to law enforcement.
If Georgey went on a ride-along with Jack at night… Well, that left two consenting adults at home alone. Hell, he might even take off for the city and treat Summer to a fancy dinner before he brought her home and did a hell of a lot more than compliment her cooking.
He could take a night off and spend it in the arms of a beautiful woman who set his blood on fire. It would be like heaven.
Jack snorted. “Yeah, sure.”
Even if Georgey worked out long-term, Jack was right—they couldn’t keep doing this. “Do you have any better ideas? Qualified police officers don’t exactly grow on trees around here.”
Jack rubbed the back of his neck. “Do you know Ezra Johnson?”
Tim shook his head.
“He did two tours in Afghanistan, just landed back on the r
ez. Tammy and Clarence’s older kid’s dad. Kind of at loose ends. He has a high school diploma…”
Tim nodded. Although it’d been almost twelve years since Tim had gotten out of the service. He understood being at loose ends. “If he can do the job, I’ll find some money to pay him.” Somewhere. “But,” he went on when Jack’s eyes lit up, “make sure he can do the job. We don’t need a severe case of PTSD wielding a gun around here.”
“Done. And yeah, I’ll take the kid on a ride-along. What night?”
Something loosened in Tim’s chest in what felt like relief, but he made sure not to show it. Not Friday—that was too damned obvious. “Thursday?”
It was clear from the look Jack gave him that Tim wasn’t fooling anyone. But he didn’t care.
Summer Collins wasn’t going to be here forever. That was a fact—the pow wow was a few short months away. But she was here now. He’d be a damn fool if he didn’t take her up on everything she had to offer and he didn’t like to think he was a damned fool.
If it went well…maybe she’d come back. To visit, that was. Tim could live with seeing her smiling face every so often. It’d be enough.
“Fine,” Jack said, taking a long sip of coffee. “But you still owe me.”
“Done. Just make sure the kid doesn’t get killed.”
Jack grinned, and Tim saw a little of the coyote trickster in his eyes. “That means you'll owe me two.”
***
Georgey was quiet on the way home. After a long day of confronting the failings of the public education system on the rez, Summer was more than happy to get lost in the world of the Percy Jackson audiobook.
She didn’t know which was worse—the sheer number of kids who should’ve been in school who were instead struggling through a GED program barely equipped to handle their needs or the fact these were the kids who were willing to work. How many other kids had given up completely?
She wasn’t ready for this. She wasn’t ready for Georgey and his dyslexia and how she was supposed to feed and shelter him for at least another year, if not more. She wasn’t prepared for the sheer lack of basic knowledge some of these kids had when they came in to study for their GED. She was lucky some of them knew how to read—and they didn’t have dyslexia or any other obvious learning disabilities. They just…
They weren’t stupid, although they talked of themselves as if they were, just like Georgey had. They simply hadn’t been educated.
No, it was more than that. They didn’t have any hope in them. Like one girl, who’d informed Summer her name was Circle, then glared as if daring Summer to laugh at it. Circle had looked Summer right in the eye when Summer explained she’d need to be able to write a persuasive essay and demanded to know, “What’s the point?”
Summer had never felt less prepared for anything in her life than she had in that moment. She’d managed to fumble through some generic answer about taking care of yourself and getting a good job, but Circle just rolled her eyes and sat back, her arms crossed.
Summer wasn’t sure she’d see the girl again.
That didn’t even take into consideration Mrs. White Plume, the coordinator in charge of the GED program, who had been so happy to have another certified teacher to help tutor kids. As Mrs. White Plume had shaken Summer’s hand, Summer felt like a life preserver someone had thrown to this kind, older woman, with a big smile and bigger hair. “It’s just so important to have people come back,” Mrs. White Plume had said, still pumping Summer’s hand. “Show these kids there’s life out there. With a little hard work, they can make it too.”
But that felt like a lie. Summer wasn’t coming back to the rez. She’d never been here to begin with. Instead, she’d been raised by a middle-class white woman in a mostly white town. She’d never needed a demonstration that there was potential to her life, something valuable in her education. It had been expected—something that just was, like the air she breathed. She did well in school and the teachers encouraged her. She got assigned to tutor other kids and she enjoyed it. A career in education was a natural extension, an everyday thing for someone of her race and socioeconomic class.
Here? Here she was something rare and special and she wasn’t sure she liked it. She shouldn’t be noteworthy. She should be just another new teacher.
It was overwhelming, the responsibility of it all.
Finally they got to Tim’s place. If this had been a regular day of teaching in Minneapolis, she’d pour herself an extra-big glass of wine and curl up with a book or Netflix. She might even splurge and order takeout. But here?
She had to figure out what they were eating for dinner, and she should talk to Georgey about the story they were listening to and make sure his comprehension was on target, and figure out a better answer to Circle’s question and…
And she honestly didn’t know if she was up to any of it.
Dragging, she followed Georgey into Tim’s house and pulled up short when the scent of grilled meat hit her nose.
“Hey,” Georgey said, “you never cooked like this for me.”
“Yeah, well—I didn’t like you then,” Tim retorted. He looked past Georgey, and Summer almost staggered backwards—the heat in his eyes was that powerful.
“Does that mean you like me now?” Georgey asked, almost skipping over to the table.
“It means I need you well-fed if you’re going to go on a ride-along with Jack on the night shift,” Tim replied, not looking away from Summer.
A ride-along at night? Suddenly Summer wasn’t exhausted. She practically vibrated with energy. Was he saying what she thought he was saying?
Georgey looked up from where he had a handful of fries shoved in his mouth. “When?”
“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Summer said. When was an excellent question, however.
“Thursday,” Tim said and a little smile played over his lips. It was just for her, that smile. It warmed her from the inside out.
Summer’s heart leapt as Tim’s gaze drifted to her lips and she knew he’d done this for her. They couldn’t fool around with Georgey in the house—so Tim found a way to get the kid out.
“Thursday,” she repeated and then smiled.
She wanted her summer fling.
She wanted him naked.
And in two days, she might just get to have him.
Chapter Twelve
The waiting was the hardest part. Summer concluded that as two of the longest days of her life trickled by in a slog of long drives to the other side of the reservation, tutoring reluctant students and working with Georgey on basic reading skills.
The good news was her brother was quite bright. That quickly became apparent as he got sucked into the world of Percy Jackson. He had no trouble following the story, no trouble answering her questions to test his comprehension. What’s more, he was deeply excited about the story—which carried over when the novelizations came in the mail. The graphic novels were a lot of pictures and not very much text, but he was happy to sit down and try reading them, which was, as far as Summer could tell, a first.
She barely saw Tim for two days. He would drag in at seven or eight o’clock at night, looking beat. He’d inhale the dinner she’d made, ask Georgey how he was doing, then crash. It made the long days even longer.
She tried to be understanding about it. He was obviously putting in extra time to make sure Thursday was theirs. But it was frustrating.
She was frustrated. It had been a bit of a drought since her last boyfriend and she wasn’t satisfied with lingering looks and stolen kisses. She wanted more from Tim. Much more.
Finally, Thursday evening rolled around. She hustled Georgey home a little earlier than normal and made sure he ate dinner before she said, “I’m going to take a shower.”
She didn't rush. She shaved and exfoliated and washed her hair twice. She wanted to look great for Tim, which she found vaguely amusing because it wasn’t like they hadn’t been living together for a while. And she'd seen him when he was bruised and
bloodied and almost too weak to stand.
But he’d healed. And she wanted to look pretty, dang it.
She was rinsing her hair when the bathroom door opened. “Georgey, give me a few more minutes,” she snapped.
“The kid’s gone,” Tim’s voice came from the other side of the shower curtain. “Jack picked him up five minutes ago.”
Summer froze, then smiled. Who the heck cared about dinner? Tim was here and she was here and she was already naked. Was it too much to hope…
“Do you mind if I join you?” Tim said and Summer’s heart took off at a gallop.
“Not at all.”
She heard the sound of clothing hitting the ground as she rinsed her hair the last time. Then the shower curtain slid back and there was Tim.
For a moment, she just stared at him. She’d seen his chest, obviously, but there was so much more to him. He was well built without being overly large, his dick half-hard against his leg. She moved aside to make room for him, but he didn’t move at first. He only stared.
“Yes?” she asked, fighting the urge to self-consciously cross her arms in front of her breasts.
“You leave me breathless,” he said, finally stepping into the shower.
Water ran over his shoulders, sluicing down the muscles of his chest. Summer exhaled, letting go of weeks of uncertainty and worry and stress so she could just be in this moment. Her breasts tightened as she slid her hands into his hair, tilting his head back so his hair was under the water.
“I thought this night would never come,” she told him, turning him around so she could shampoo his hair. She’d never done this with anyone else and it was oddly intimate, that a man who wore a bulletproof vest and occasionally slept with a gun under his pillow would let her take care of him.
“I’ve been waiting for this since the moment you drove onto this rez,” he said, his arms straight at his side, his hands curled into fists. She could see the tension in his shoulders as she massaged his scalp, but he held himself in check. “You weren’t what I was expecting.”
The Sheriff (Men of the White Sandy Book 5) Page 13