by Erin Wright
He and Jorge spent some time pouring over seed catalogs and discussing the newest weed killers on the market. Sometimes, they had to get one of his grandkids in to help with the finer points of their discussion, but they got things figured out. He was as set as he was ever going to be for the new season. He even went down to the bank and signed the paperwork to borrow the money for that season’s operating expenses, to get that step out of the way.
He’d done all he could do, and now it was just time to wait for spring to arrive.
And wait for Stetson’s party to arrive.
He was kinda surprised by how much he was looking forward to it. If his parents had still been around, they would’ve been hitting the roof, thrilled to pieces at the idea of a new grandchild to welcome into the family. They’d done that once before…
He swallowed the pain down. Now wasn’t the time to get wrapped up in memories. He had Juan here, wanting to know how to get a bridle over a horse’s head without them trying to shimmy back out of it, and he had Abby over by Sonny, sending him lascivious glances through her eyelashes and…
He had a life to live. Not one to pine over in the rearview mirror, but to live today.
He couldn’t remember the last time he felt that way.
And it was a damn good feeling.
“Hold on, Juan, you’ve got to hold the bit in this hand, see?” he said, rescuing the bridle from his young charge’s hands and rearranging it. He helped Juan get up onto the step stool. “All right, now start by sliding this into his mouth…”
Yeah, he had a lot to live for right now.
Chapter 32
Abby
It’d been a long day. A long-ass day, to be specific. Mr. Krein down at the library had gotten riled up over his overdue fines – again – and the head librarian had called for help – again – and after she’d gotten Mr. Krein settled down and willing to pay his fines, which was quite the feat if she did say so herself, all she wanted to do was go home and settle into a hot tub of bubbles and read. She ought to read a thriller set in the Middle East, since she just negotiated a peace as tricky as finding one in the Middle East would be, but before she could decide which author to pick up that evening, she heard her father hollering her name.
Dammit.
She walked from the front office area back to the sheriff’s office. She’d take offense and tell him to stop hollering at her like she was a little child, but he did it with all of the officers, not just her. This wasn’t a case of him not seeing her as an adult, but rather just a case of him being…him.
“Yes?” she asked, in an overly sweet tone of voice in the doorway of his office. He glared at her, catching the sarcasm dripping off her voice and not liking it one bit.
“Close the door behind you!” he barked.
A tiny part of her wished she had enough guts to walk out into the hallway and then pull the door closed behind her, but she was pretty sure she wouldn’t live through such shenanigans, so with a sigh, she stepped fully into his office and shut the door behind her.
“Yes?” she repeated again, just as sweetly.
He glared at her just as hard, but she simply looked back him, waiting for him to speak. Finally, he barked, “The rumor all over town is that my daughter is spending hours on end with a guy on parole here in this county. I—”
“Are you talking as my dad right now or my boss?” she interrupted. He stopped, his mouth gaping open.
“Your boss,” he finally ground out.
“Then I suggest you refer to me as your deputy, not as your daughter,” she said. She wasn’t yelling; she wasn’t snarky. She was simply pointing out information.
“My deputy,” he snarled, “is spending copious amounts of time with the town ruffian, who gets in more fights than Muhammad Ali. Is that better?”
“Your deputy is spending time with small children with learning disabilities, or children in the foster care system, teaching them responsibility and how to work with animals. A man on parole happens to be picking me up and dropping me off, but there is nothing more to it than that.” The one kiss they’d shared flashed through her mind, but she pushed it away. Nothing had happened since then, and for all she knew, nothing ever would. They hadn’t mentioned children or their future again after he’d come to her house that one day, and she had to face the fact that they may be “just friends” for the rest of her life. “What I do in my free time, especially if I choose to spend it doing community service, is none of my employer’s business.”
“Wyatt Miller is nothing but trouble,” her dad exploded, “and you know it! First, you pushed the line by volunteering to be his parole officer, but to actually go work with him while he’s serving his community service hours…it’s beyond the pale, Abby, and you know it.”
“You’re so goddamned sure he’s nothing but a screw-up,” Abby hissed, leaning forward on her father’s desk, planting her fists as she stared up at him, “that you’ve never bothered to get to know him. Maybe if you had, you’d have a different take on the situation.”
“He punched me!” Her father slammed his fist into the palm of his hand to emphasize the words. “There’s no denying th—”
“His wife and daughter were lying on the side of the road, Dad. What did you expect him to do – stop and ask politely if he could come through?”
“He was getting in the way of the EMTs. If he really cared that much about saving their lives, he would’ve let them work without interference.”
“God, Dad, are you really that cold-hearted?” She stared at him in disbelief. “You really think that Wyatt, in the most awful moment of his life, was supposed to rationally assess the situation and decide what the best course of action was?”
“I would!” her father volleyed back. “I know better than to get in the way of the people trying to save those I love!”
“And you’re a trained officer, for hell’s sakes, Dad. Wyatt is not. He’s just a sugar beet farmer. He doesn’t know how to react in situations where his family is dying in front of his eyes. It’s time to cut him some slack. Let’s talk about what’s really bothering you – that comment he made in the bar, about running the farm better than you.” Her dad flinched, and she knew she was right; his bluster about what Wyatt did and did not do on the side of the road was a cover for what was really bothering him: Wyatt hurting his pride in front of the entire community. “Did you ever happen to talk to him about what happened that night?”
“Why the hell would I go and do a thing like that? I’m not about to give him another chance to tell me what a screw-up he thinks I am, and—”
“Or you could have a completely different interaction with him than that, Dad.” She glared at him, all of her frustration on behalf of Wyatt showing through. She wasn’t holding back – she was fighting for the one person in town who had no one to fight for him. The one person everyone thought didn’t need a champion.
But everyone needed a champion. Even prickly farmers named Wyatt Miller.
“If you are sleeping with the guy,” her dad said, voice low as he too leaned forward, staring her down, “then just tell me. No need to try to make him sound better than he really is or make excuses for him. It’s time to own up to the choices you’re making, Abigail.”
Her head snapped back at that. Her father rarely called her Abigail, and when he did…well, it was safe to say that it wasn’t a good sign.
Abby suddenly felt deep empathy for Wyatt. To fight against this kind of deep-seated antipathy over and over again, for years on end…no wonder he’d withdrawn into himself. Sure, he didn’t make it easy to love him at times, and he’d made more than his fair share of mistakes. But this refusal to see him as anything but a monster…it had to be exhausting.
Something inside of her snapped. Snapped into pieces and she began grinning. Her father stared at her, slowly pulling back as her grin grew wider. “Wha…?”
“I just realized how freeing it is to not give a damn. No wonder Wyatt never does. Sheriff Connelly
, the truth is, my shift ended ten minutes ago and I want to go home. Unless you actually have something to hold over my head, which I am quite sure you don’t or you would’ve told me already, you cannot stop me from hanging out with Wyatt Miller seven days a week. Hell, you can’t stop me from sleeping with the man. Damn, if I’m going to be accused of it, I might as well, right? Goodnight, sir.” And on that note, she spun on her heel and stalked out of the office, down the hallway, out the doors, into the weak winter sunlight, over to her cruiser, and hopped inside.
It felt good, damn good, to stand up to her dad. She pulled out of the parking lot, her tires squealing, her grin stretching from ear to ear. Her whole life, she’d always tried to please others. She’d done everything she could to keep the peace. She’d listened to her father, even when he was wrong. She’d done her best to make everyone happy.
Now, it was time to make her happy.
Chapter 33
Wyatt
He heard a vehicle crunching on the gravel outside and cocked his head to the side wonderingly. Who was here? Was Stetson here to argue with him again? Was Declan here to try to convince him that Stetson really was a sweetie after all? Declan always was one for impossible goals.
A car door slammed, boots on the front porch, and Wyatt reached over to click off the TV and pushed himself out of his recliner. Whoever it was, was in a hur—
His front door swung open.
“What the hell?” he said, and then he realized it was Abby. She was walking straight over to him and he just stared at her in shock. She was in her uniform and she had a real weird look on her face. Maybe this time, it really was something that had gone wrong – maybe Declan was hurt in an accident or—
She wrapped her hands around his head and pulled him to her, shoving her tongue into his mouth. Forceful, demanding, she pulled back and said, “If I’m gonna be accused of sleeping with you, I might as well be doing it.” She grabbed his hand and began dragging him towards the staircase, up to the second story.
A tiny part of his brain wondered for a moment how she knew where his bedroom was, but then remembered all over again – duh. She used to live here. Of course she’d know where the master bedroom was.
“Is there something going on that I ought to know about?” he asked, his mind whirling as they took the stairs two at a time. Not that he was going to complain about finally having a break in his dry spell, but it seemed like a good idea to figure out what was going on in that head of hers.
“Yeah, I live in a tiny town that thinks every little thing that happens is their business. If they’re going to get up in my business, then I should at least give them something to get up into, dontcha think?”
And with that, she shoved Wyatt backward onto his bed.
Chapter 34
Abby
Abby advanced on him, noting the shocked expression on his face with pride. The look, the twinkle in his eyes and the small upward turn of the corner of his lips told her that the shock in his eyes was the product of being taken off guard, not of fear or anger.
Good.
Abby didn’t bother with any of her clothes. The moment was too raw. This was about her getting what she wanted.
Something in the back of her mind tingled, reminding her that this wasn’t completely fair to Wyatt, because what she wanted in that moment was to tell everyone to go to hell. She knew she should feel guilty for using him this way, but no matter how hard she tried, she just couldn’t make herself care.
Her hands were on board with her hastily created plan and were fumbling with Wyatt’s belt buckle, and then the button of his jeans and zipper.
With a hearty tug, she pulled the waistband of his pants and his underwear down far enough that she could reach under the fabric and free him. Her fingers wrapped around his shaft and she realized that it was perfect. He was perfect. Okay, a little on the large side, but then again, so was she. She was pretty sure he’d fit inside of her. She decided to start with her mouth and see how it fit, and then go from there.
She positioned herself between his knees, Wyatt spreading open wide to accommodate her service belt and other police paraphernalia. A part of her knew that she should at least take the time to get her service belt off, but it was a very small part of her and she ignored it with impunity, instead dropping her head forward and opening her mouth. Her lips slid around the head of Wyatt’s dick. He let out a moaning sigh of relief – the obvious celebration of the end of a very long self-imposed dry spell.
She grinned to herself, officially dismissing any guilt that she might be using him. Maybe she was, but he was happy to be used, so that was good enough for her.
Abby slid her lips down the shaft until the tip of his cock touched the back of her throat. She pulled back, dragging her lips along his skin, enjoying the heat emanating from him. She pushed her head downward again, retracing the path she’d just taken. She drew in a deep breath through her nose, the musky scent speaking to her mind of shared desire.
The hasty nature of what was happening along with her uncharacteristically dominant attitude made sucking Wyatt’s cock feel deliciously…naughty.
She wasn’t as innocent as the freshly driven snow. She’d been with other men before; not one given to impulsive sexual desires or one-night stands, every man before Wyatt had been somebody she was dating. Each time she’d been with a man, it’d been because she’d had feelings for that person. She’d done this before, as an expression of attraction and what she’d thought of at the time as love.
This time was different. This time, it wasn’t a planned event with a long-term boyfriend; it was spontaneous and hot and rough and…just what she needed.
She pulled her head back, letting him escape her mouth, her lips making a popping sound as it did so. She didn’t realize that she’d been so forceful in her suction. Wyatt gasped at the sudden change.
Abby sprung to her feet and began tearing at the buckle of her gun-belt, letting it drop the moment that the buckle freed itself. The heavy leather combined with the weight of all of her equipment caused a loud thud to echo through the room as it hit the floor.
“You’d better get those clothes off quickly,” she ordered Wyatt, her voice heavy and breathy. Wyatt didn’t say anything but instead began quickly unbuttoning his shirt. Abby continued her frantic undressing. She hastily pulled at the shoelaces of her heavy boots. She momentarily cursed the heavy utilitarian footwear for being both completely unsexy and difficult to remove in a hurry.
Finally having negotiated the knots of her shoelaces, she stood back up and simultaneously kicked at the heels of the boots and fumbled with the enclosure of her uniform pants. She did this all by feel while her eyes focused on Wyatt’s bare chest.
Sculpted angular lines of his work-hardened muscles, covered by a scattering of hair, caught the light streaming through the window. His body seem to glint and glow as his chest rose and fell.
She’d never seen a more gorgeous sight in her life.
Somehow, she managed to free her feet from the boots and her legs from the pants just as Wyatt flung his shirt across the room. Her fingers immediately began working on the buttons of her own shirt while Wyatt shoved his pants and underwear down his legs. As his hands pushed the fabric lower, Abby watched the tightly toned muscles of his thighs ripple as he held himself off the mattress.
She wanted him. All of him.
Abby flung her shirt off and immediately began pulling at the Velcro straps holding her vest in place. This crap takes forever to get off. Wyatt was completely naked and she hadn’t even gotten to her underwear yet.
Really not fair.
She picked up the pace, dropping the heavy bulletproof vest to the ground before yanking her black could-not-be-less-sexy sports bra over her head.
Wyatt had propped himself up on his elbows to watch her stripping.
Despite the pervasiveness of Halloween costumes that might fool a person into believing that a woman in uniform was sexy, the reality was miles away fr
om that fantasy. Everything about a police uniform was utilitarian.
The one exception in Abby’s case was her panties; her one true feminine indulgence being sexy underwear. The pair she had on today was a dark blue thong made entirely of lace. Police work was a male-dominated field and she had to wear something every day to remind herself that she was a woman.
But right now, she was leaving the panties on not only because they made her feel desirable, but also, because she was sick and tired of waiting. She was here for this incredibly sexy man that she was undeniably attracted to. It was time for her to have the fun she was being accused of.
She crawled onto the bed, straddling Wyatt’s body as she moved upward toward him, her one hand catching hold of his shaft. As she leaned forward, pressing her lips against his, she stroked his shaft, feeling his soft skin slide up and down the hardened flesh underneath. Wyatt moaned as her tongue probed his mouth.
She released her hold on him. Wyatt tried to sit up but she pressed him back onto the mattress with the palm on his chest.
“Mine,” she growled as she moved so that she was properly straddling him. Removing her hands from his chest, she reached between her legs and slid the thin line of lace covering her to one side.
Abby actually began to revel in the salacious joy of being the naughty, wanton woman she was accused of being.
Hovering over Wyatt, she stared down at him, her eyes locking onto his. She slid her hand back down between her legs and found Wyatt’s shaft. He sucked in a breath and his eyes closed at the pleasure of her hand on him. Abby used her grip on him to get him pointed in the right direction, lowering herself onto him, his head spreading her open, her excitement easing his entrance.