by Lisa Evans
Moments pass, and then I hear the familiar sound of a door opening. The first thing I notice about the person stepping into the hallway where I’m standing, is that she’s wearing high heels as black as the Cadillac she was just driving. Then, as my eyes wander up the legs and the torso, they finally come to a halt at a plump red mouth.
“We meet again, Sheriff,” she says, eyes gazing at me with the intensity of a wild cat.
“We sure do,” I say, and cross my arms over my chest. Smiling at her, I contemplate whether to let her off easy, or if I ought to just teach her a lesson and arrest her.
She is beautiful. And she did break the law.
“So, what’ll it be, Sheriff?” she asks, smiling the sexiest smile I have ever seen. Placing her hands on her hips, she looks like she’s attempting to challenge me into a duel. But this isn’t the wild west. This is Sweetwater. My town.
Chapter 1
KENNEDY
THIS DEAD-DOG TOWN is getting the best of me, I think to myself while I refill the sugar. Part of me can’t believe I decided to take my mom’s offer up on sticking around here on a permanent basis, but here I am, three years down the road, working at Eve’s Coffee Shop, serving the customers coffee with a smile.
Not really, though. There’s just one customer who gets his coffee with a smile.
Sheriff Dillon.
Who would have thought he’d turn out to be such a great guy? I’ve never met any officer of the law who was good enough to even look at. Usually, they always treat me like dirt, but not Dillon. He’s been respecting me since day one, despite me giving him reason enough not to do so. But that’s because he’s such a good man. He really is.
Come to think of it, I look at the time and notice it’s almost 3 PM. As always, I rush into the back to freshen up my crimson lipstick. Smacking my lips together, I run my hands through my hair just to make sure my jet black curls really look their best. Sure, they make me wear this pink uniform while I service the customers, but they can’t say a thing about my personal style. They ain’t got no right to.
Rushing back to the counter, I pop some chewing gum into my mouth, just to calm my nerves. I don’t know what it is about Sheriff Dillon, but he sure’s got me all antsy every time he walks in the room.
Sure enough, as the clock strikes three, I hear the tiny bell on the door chime as it opens. Lifting my eyes from the magazine I’ve been eyeing, I look over to my right.
There he is, looking as sexy as ever in his uniform.
Dillon.
The man of my dreams.
I’ve scribbled his name down an endless number of times, ornating it with various patterns. I love his name.
“Hi there, miss Lawless,” he says, tipping the brim of his hat. Oh, he is just too suave. The quintessential Southern gentleman, even though he ain’t even from around here. The two of us shared cocktails last week at the local bar (the only one in this godforsaken town) and he told me all about his past back in Los Angeles. Man, it would be a dream to live in a place like that. Sure, I get he doesn’t want to be a cop in some murderous city like that, I wouldn’t want him to either since I want him alive and breathing, but the buzz of the city – there’s just nothing like it.
“Hey Sheriff,” I say, and blow a big pink chewing gum bubble until it pops. “How you doing?”
“I’m fine, you?”
“That’ll be the usual, I guess?” I ask, and he nods his head in confirmation. “Uh-huh. I’m doing splendid,” I add, while I move behind the counter to make my special brew for him.
“Splendid, huh?” he asks behind me, and that deep, rustic voice of his is enough to send shivers of arousal down my spine. What is it about this man? How is it that he has this effect on me?
Turning around moments later, I serve the Sheriff his coffee. As I do, our fingers brush against each other.
“Will that be all?” I ask, blushing.
“Sure will,” he says, thanking me for the brew. “Smells delicious,” he adds while handing me a couple of nicely folded dollar bills. That’s just him. Everything about him is just perfect. There’s not a crinkle on his goddamn shirt or nothing. He’s perfect. Compared to me at least, who now, thanks to him, has a record. Well, technically it was my own fault for speeding even though the whole affair was finished once I convinced mom I’d be a good girl if she paid the fine for me. Not that I regret doing it, because it was what brought the two of us together. Dillon and I, I mean.
“Well, you have a good day, sir,” I add, with a hint of cheekiness behind the word sir.
“You don’t need to call me that,” he whispers, winking at me. “To you, I’m just plain Dillon, remember?”
I do. I do remember how he begged me to call him Dillon instead of Sheriff and sir when he walked me home last week, but I kind of like it. There’s something kinky and sexy about him being a police officer. It’s a major turn-on if you ask me.
“Whatever, Sheriff,” I say, and stick my tongue out at him.
“Behave, miss Lawless,” Dillon retorts, with a smile on his lips. I bet he likes it. I bet he likes the idea of me being a bad girl.
I do too.
Watching him walk out the coffee shop, I feel tingles of arousal flowing through my veins. He is such a fine man. Tall, handsome, powerful.
How on earth will I ever be able to make him mine?
Next day, we repeat the same ritual again. Going through the motions, I call him Sheriff and sir, while he pleads me to stick to Dillon. That’s it. I can’t help but feel like there’s something going on between the two of us. There has to be, right? Otherwise, why would he be coming in here during my shift? Because from what I heard from my boss, Eve that is, the Sheriff’s never set foot in her establishment up until the moment she hired me. If that’s the truth, and if he really does like me back, like I suspect, why does he not make a pass at me? Can’t he tell I’m pining for him?
When I look into his sexy green eyes, all I want is for him to ravish me. Throw me over his shoulder, bring me back home, pin me down with his handcuffs if he wants to, and make love to me.
Please, Dillon, I think as I look into his eyes. Please, can’t you tell I’m dying for you to ask me out on a real date?
Knowing he won’t be able to read my thoughts, I still think I can maybe show him that his presence is welcomed and that I would like to get to know him better. I flirted with him very blatantly during our cocktail last week when I told him I’d make him an ever better Old Fashioned than the one they serve at the bar, but he just laughed it off.
My mind is racing, and it feels like I’m going to lose him the moment he walks out the door. I have to… I have to find a way to let him know how I feel about him, but how can I if he won’t give me a hint that he likes me back?
“Thanks for the coffee, miss Lawless,” he says, before heading out the glass door.
Afraid I’ll lose him if I don’t speak up, I rack my brain trying to think of something flirtatious to tell him. But I come up with zilch, and so I’m forced to watch him walk out the door again.
“Hey, Kennedy,” he says, stopping dead in his tracks.
“Yes?”
My heart flutters. What? What is it?
Turning around slowly, he looks as though he’s searching for the right words or something.
“Would you… Would you like to go out with me sometime?”
Would I? It’s what I’ve been waiting for for three goddamn years mister.
“I’m sorry,” he says when I don’t answer right away. “I shouldn’t have…”
“Oh no, don’t worry about it,” I say, and rush up to him. “Yes,” I say, and place my hands on his arms. “I would love to go out with you sometime.”
“Really?” he asks, and his face shines up. “I mean,” he says, clearing his throat, “Good.”
Since I can’t wait for this date of ours, I decide I won’t hold back any longer. I can’t wait, I need to follow my heart and speak up. So I say, “How’s Friday night so
und?”
“Sounds pretty darn good to me.”
I feel his muscles bulging underneath my hands, and it makes me tremble. I can’t believe this man. I can’t believe I’m falling for him…
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” he says. “I’ll pick you up around seven?”
“Seven it is,” I say, and lean forward to kiss him on the cheek. Then I head back behind the counter, and pretend to be busy.
I’m elated. A date with Dillon. The hottest man in town, no scratch that.
The hottest man in the U.S. of A.
Chapter 2
DILLON
GETTING INTO MY vehicle, I catch a glimpse of myself in the rearview mirror. There’s a red mark on my cheek, right where Kennedy kissed me. I’m glad I was able to walk out of there without exposing the stiffness growing in my pants, because I was about two seconds from making a fool of myself over there. I love her. But I don’t want her to know that so soon. It might frighten her. Scare her off or something. And that’s about the last thing I want right now.
Not really wanting to rid my cheek of the lipstick smudge Kennedy has left there, I reluctantly grab a napkin and wipe it off.
The scent of Kennedy stills hovers around me, and it’s about to drive me nuts. God, she’s sexy. She’s hot, she’s beautiful, she’s caring – all in all she’s everything I’ve ever wanted in a woman. So what if people don’t exactly think she’s a sweetheart? I do. She’s my sweetheart. It doesn’t matter if she’s a little rough around the edges, I don’t mind. In fact, I like it. For some reason, that seems to be what drew me towards her in the first place.
I’m glad I finally decided to ask her out. It was about time. And it was getting way too obvious that she likes me. Which pleases me. Because I really like her too.
I like her a lot.
Can’t wait for Friday night to happen. I’ve got the night planned to the fullest already.
One thing is for sure, I’m going to make my move.
I’m going to make her mine, once and for all.
Because I’m already hers.
Making a couple of calls to set things up for Friday night, I feel in control, and when I feel in control, it makes me feel like a real man. A feeling which I love. A feeling which was part of the reason I decided to stick to being a police officer, though I’ve also had other dreams for myself.
After leaving California behind, I’ve often wondered what it would be like to pursue those dreams, but then something always got in the way. I wonder what Kennedy will think when she learns about my secret passion. I know she’s kind of a dreamer as well, which is part of what attracted me to her in the first place. I mean, it takes quite the person to run off half-way across the country to move to New York City when you’re just a kid. She’s got some drive that lady. And I admire her for it. All I can do is hope she’ll accept me for me, and that when I reveal all of myself to her that she’ll approve of me.
She’s just got to do that. Because it can’t just be that she’s attracted to the uniform, right? I mean, I know a lot of the fellows (and gals too to be honest) I’ve worked with have come out and said that the person they were dating at the time turned out to just want them for the badge. They think it’s cool or they just get a kick out of being with an officer of the law, which I think is not the right way to start off a relationship. I mean, yes I understand the allure of being with someone who works for the law, but what’s more important is that you like the person and that the person likes you back, and that the two of you are compatible.
My hunch is that Kennedy and I are compatible, and that she really does like me for me, but one just can’t be certain until the subject’s been addressed, right?
My gut in tenterhooks, I think about the conversations I’ve had so far with Kennedy. From what I’ve learned about her so far is that she’s a sweet girl at heart, despite the front she likes to give other people. She plays tough, but I’m not so sure she’s so tough through and through. There’s something bothering her, I can tell. It’s in her eyes, and written all over her face. Like she’s dying to be loved and cared for.
And I kind of like to think I’m just the man for that job.
The days pass slower than usual. With little to do at work, I’m getting antsy and bored to death while waiting for Friday night.
My heart is aching to be close to Kennedy. And my body is yearning to fulfill all her desires. Wondering if she’ll accept me as the man I am, I can’t get her out of my head. I still think she could do a whole lot better than living in that rental apartment of hers, but she’s got her mind set on providing for herself without the helping hand of her mother, the mayor. Personally, I can’t see the harm in letting someone give you a helping hand, but I like her sense of independence. That she’s got a mind of her own is such a major turn-on for me. It’s part of why I’ve come to fall for her. That, and how she’s always sweet in a sassy kind of way to me. I’ve seen the way she treats other people in this town, and I can tell that she’s different towards me. I’m special. Which is good, because she’s damn special to me as well.
So special, I’m gonna make her mine.
When Friday night finally comes, I’m as excited as can be. I’ve got something real special planned for the two of us, and I can only hope she’ll like it. No, on second thought, I already know she’ll love it. I think it’ll suit her perfectly.
Changing my clothes after work, I decide to go with a black button down shirt and a pair of jeans. Two guns are engraved on my belt buckle, and along with it, I’m wearing my black boots, and when I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I look like the quintessential cowboy. Wondering if she’ll like it, I suddenly wonder what she’s decided to wear for our first real date together. I mean, we’ve talked a lot over a drink or two at the local bar, but we’ve never ever been out on a real date. But it’s about time we did, because I cannot wait to get my hands on her.
If she’ll have me, I’ll be hers in a heartbeat.
And I swear I’ll do my best to give her anything she wants.
Grabbing the keys to the car, I put on my black Stetson hat. I know it’s still early, but I’m anxious to see her. Even though I get my coffee every single day from the place where she works, and I get to see her every time, I always yearn to see her again. To look at her beautiful face, and gawk into those wonderful eyes of hers, well that’s just something I could do just about forever I guess.
Truth is I’ve fallen for her. I’ve fallen hard.
Chapter 3
KENNEDY
MY FAVORITE VOICE is blaring from the speakers as I get ready for my date with Dillon. Part of me still can’t fathom it’s finally happening, and I’m elated. I’ve got a pink towel wrapped around my body, and my hair is wet, dripping from just getting out of the shower.
Reaching for the blow-dryer, I plug it in next to the mirror and start fixing my hair. I’m going to look like a million bucks by the time I’m done. I don’t care if I’m running late, there’s nothing in the world that’s about to get between Dillon and me tonight.
Still cussin over the last customer which never wanted to leave, I grab the brush from the table. So what if it was my mother who just happened to be that customer and she wanted a word with me? I kept telling her I didn’t have the time and that I had some place to be, but she just wouldn’t hear it. Jeez, sometimes I swear it feels like she’s treating me like a kid, as if I’m still just that seventeen-year old girl who ran away from home. It’s like she can’t get it into her head that I’m a grown woman now and I’ve got my own life. She keeps wanting to meddle in my business, and I’m not having it. I’m in charge of my own life, and that’s final. In fact, that’s exactly what I told her.
I’m glad I picked out the clothes I’m gonna wear tonight this morning before I went to work. Laid out on the bed are a pair of black jeans and an equally black tank top. I picked the one which is about a size or two too small, because I like the way it shows off my body, and I want to
make Dillon drool over me, just like he’s making me drool over him.
The moment my hair is done, I hear the phone ringing. I don’t really have the time to pick up since I’m in a hurry to get ready, but figuring it might be Dillon, I decide to answer anyways.
Big mistake.
“Hello?” I say, and grab my mascara.
“Hey sweetie,” the voice on the other end says and I recognize it immediately. Mom.
“What do you want?” I ask, and sigh loudly. “I’m running late because of you. I already told you.”
“I know sweetie, but I just wanted to talk to you. You seemed so angry and irritated back at the coffee shop. Are you sure you’re alright?”
Sighing loudly, I tell her I’m fine. “Look, mom, I don’t have the time right now. Leave me alone. I’ve got something planned for tonight and I’m trying to get ready.”
“Are you sure you’re not mad at me?”
“Mom, please. Back off.” I swear, ever since she decided to shape up, she’s been like this, constantly asking me about my feelings and stuff, and I don’t like it. I don’t want to share my personal feelings and business with her. Not now. I did try and do that when I was a teenager, but she wouldn’t have it then. Was too busy running around doing her own thing all the time to listen to me. Which was part of the reason why I decided to pack up and leave.