by Megan Derr
"Honey, tell me you're thinking of moving here before I die from waiting to hear it."
Merry laughed a bit unsteadily. "Yes. I was. Is that okay?"
Kirby whooped and yanked him close again, kissing him eagerly, too ecstatic and silly-happy to be better than clumsy about it but not caring in the least. "That's the best news I've had in an age, Mer. Do you really want to come to Midsummer? I'd be willing to try anything. All I want is you—to see you every day."
He wiped a bit of smeared lipstick from Merry's face, thoroughly distracted by Merry decked out in black and purple now that he wasn't miserable from fighting.
Merry smiled and pulled out a black handkerchief from one of the many pockets of his pants, reaching up to clean Kirby's face. "I was just worried it'd be moving too fast. And small town is what I'm looking for. The city was fun when I was twenty. Hell, it wasn't so bad when I was thirty. But it's not what I'm looking for anymore." He looked almost shy as he smiled at Kirby. "Midsummer seems to have everything I want."
Kirby smiled right back. "The minute you're here to stay, Midsummer will be perfect."
Laughing, Merry reached up and kissed him again, twining his arms around Kirby's neck, pressing as close as he could possibly get when Kirby's arms wrapped around him. "So why are you here?" Merry asked eventually. "Here as in this shop? That's why I seemed upset to see you. I came here to meet the building inspector, hoping to get business out of the way before I showed up to surprise you and hope you'd still want to see me."
Snickering, Kirby said, "Ol' Thomas and my dad used to be in this business together. I still help Thomas out when he needs it. He asked me to come take a look at this place."
Merry frowned. "So much for keeping it a secret until I could be certain you wanted me here."
Kirby snorted. "I've been growly and mean lately 'cause you're not here. I think I can safely say that everyone wants you here, or they'll have no choice but to kill me." He stole another kiss. "What say we finish looking over your store, and then you can come and inspect your new living accommodations."
Merry blinked at him, then comprehension dawned, and he smiled in that slow, hot little way of his that drove Kirby wild. "I'm pretty picky, Sheriff. I'll expect a very thorough inspection of the premises."
"That's reasonable, hobgoblin. Might take all night, though."
Laughing, Merry reached up a hand to trace Kirby's lips with his fingers. "Won't you be missed at work?"
"Nah. I told you, I've been mean lately. Besides, by now someone will have noticed your car and told the rest of the town you're here. They won't expect me 'til tomorrow," Kirby replied, then nibbled at the teasing fingers.
"Then let's get to inspecting," Merry said, and stepped back. He pulled out a small mirror and a thing of lipstick from yet another pocket, quickly and neatly restoring his dark purple lipstick.
Kirby watched him, hot and hard. "I'm only going to mess you up again, honey."
Merry tucked his things away and smirked. "That's the idea, Sheriff." Then he strode across the room to the back, ass ten kinds of distracting in the slinky pants, and he really was the most beautiful, tempting thing Kirby had ever seen—even when they did want to kill each other.
All his, Kirby thought, and it was looking like Merry was all his forever. Discarding his hat so it wouldn't get ruined in the back, and locking up the store so no one else would come to bother them, he went after Merry to get started inspecting.
About the Author
Megan grew up a military brat and traveled extensively with her family. She is now firmly settled in Ohio, with two roommates and their four cats. She has always been book obsessed, and writing obsessed since she first gave it a whirl in college. Romance and fantasy are her primary obsessions, but she’s game to write just about anything and enjoys a challenge. She is a sucker for stories of enemies becoming lovers. When not writing, Megan is drinking too much coffee, reading still more books, and harassing family and friends, or otherwise doing whatever possible to avoid editing.