by Louise, Tia
Take last night for instance, not sleeping with Chad. That’s what I should have told Emberly. Why didn’t I think of that?
Not sleeping with Chad is part of my professional makeover. I’m not falling for some good guy. I’m being a responsible businesswoman, keeping my eye on the goal.
The tightness in my chest when his dimpled smile flashes through my mind is just residual hangover feelings, nothing more.
I do not want to pet the snake in his pants.
I want to get this website finished, cash that big check, and hop a flight to Tahiti.
Okay, I might want to pet the snake one time.
Stop it, Tabby!
Ten
Chad
The alarm on my phone is like a freight train barreling through my room.
“Shut up,” I growl, slapping it off.
I went to bed with the worst case of blue balls I’ve had since ninth grade, and now my head aches. I start to roll over, when fuck me again. Apparently my dick is still ready to party. It’s awake like I’m fourteen and just seeing Pornhub for the first time.
“Tabby…” My voice is thick from sleep and too much alcohol, and I’m pretty sure I dreamt about her all night.
She was right to put on the brakes. It was a first date, for chrissake. Although it feels like we’ve been dancing around each other for a year. Closing my eyes again, I see her walking out in my boxers and tee. She tied the shirt up so I could see a peek of her waist, her cute little navel with a tiny gold loop.
My dick aches harder, and I get up, ripping the covers back and stalking down the hall to my walk-in shower. It only takes a minute to switch on the water and get it warm enough for me to step inside and take care of business.
A squirt of conditioner, and I grasp my aching cock, propping my other hand against the wall and letting my mind travel back to the feel of those tits through my tee. Her nipples were so tight, I wanted one in my mouth. I can taste it.
Her little moans ring in my ears, and the way her soft ass felt in my hands, the way her hips moved as she rocked against me. My hand moves faster, and it won’t take long today. The orgasm races up my legs, tightening my ass and…
“Yes,” I hiss, as it streams out in pulses.
My knees go weak for a moment, and I brace myself as it rolls over me—longing, desire, release. I carefully hold my hand over my now-sensitive dick. Damn, that girl is so sexy. I pull off the shower head and wash the evidence down the drain.
I have to see her again.
It’s probably a bad idea.
Still, we had a great time last night. My initial worry that she might be put off by paint ball melted the minute I saw her sizing up our opponents, competition sparkling in her green eyes. She was adorable, closing her eyes and screaming as she shot. She did pretty damn good. Then, when we we came back here…
Scrubbing shampoo through my hair, I soap up and wash off. I have a short shift this afternoon, then I plan to drop by and see if she’s free tonight. I’ve been guarded, staying out of the mix, keeping my head down. It’s almost as if I’ve been figuratively out to sea.
Now it’s time to come home.
* * *
Robbie’s feet are propped on his desk, studying what looks like a legal dossier.
“Nah, I’m just not ready to do it.” Dropping his feet, he grabs a mug of coffee and gives me a nod. “Morning, Chad. How’d it go last night? Tabby like that paint ball idea? I tell you, sometimes these kids just need a hobby.”
“We had fun. What are you looking at there?” As much as I like Robbie Cole, I’m not about to delve into the details of last night with him. He’s as gossipy as Betty Pepper.
“Chad…” he rises out of his seat, crossing his arms over his chest, hands under his armpits. “I’ve decided. I’m not going to retire.”
“Okay.” He’s been saying this every month the closer his retirement date draws. We’re six weeks out, and it’s getting worse.
“I was just looking over the numbers for the county. We’ve got more than enough to give you that raise you were expecting.”
“I’m not worried about the raise. If you want to stay on, stay on.” It helps I have both a hefty trust fund from my grandfather and a nice pension from the military.
“I know you don’t need it, but you were promised a raise. You’re getting a raise.” He nods as if it would be a grave injustice.
As if.
Robbie saved me. He helped me find a way out of that old life before it killed me. I was only a week out of the military, at my parent’s big Welcome Home reception at the Admiral’s Club—their chance to show me off. I was still struggling and he pulled me aside, told me about this place, told me he was retiring in a year if I wanted the job.
I didn’t hesitate. I was gone in less than 24 hours.
“If you give me a raise, I should do more to earn it.” My smile is warm, full of gratitude, although I have no idea what more I can do. This place is like working in Mayberry. Still, I don’t like handouts.
“I’m glad you said that.” He circles back around to his desk, flipping open a different folder. “Part of the reason we’ve had such a nice influx of cash is certain celebrities I won’t name have built houses up on Oceanside Cliffs.”
“Those houses aren’t new.” They’re also pretty much empty most of the year. I’m not sure why they’re even here unless it’s for tax purposes.
“No, but as property values continue to rise, our tax revenue increases.”
“Right.” Even with ibuprofen, my head’s still a little achy.
I carried ten bottles of beer to the recycling bin this morning, and I’m pretty sure I drank nine of them. On top of tequila. No more drinking games.
We did get to know each other pretty well… Skinny dipping, phone sex.
The hangover’s worth it.
I tune back in for the end of Robbie’s monologue. “I want you to add checking on these places to your weekly rounds. Make sure bums aren’t sleeping in the boat houses, make sure all the doors are locked.”
“I’ll head over there today.” As soon as I grab breakfast at André’s.
He’ll want to know about last night as well—or at the least, he’ll make that face and laugh.
Small-town living.
Shaking my head, I’m on my way out the door when it opens in front of me, and in storms a clearly pissed off Jimmy Rhodes.
“Sheriff Cole?” His voice is loud, and when he sees me, he skids to a stop, standing straighter, almost like he’s puffing out his chest.
Jimmy is about five-nine or five-ten, and probably weighs about one hundred and forty pounds. I’m six-two, two hundred pounds, all muscle. I stop, curious to see what this is about.
Robbie doesn’t look up from his paperwork. “What’s on your mind, Jimmy?”
“Is it appropriate for a certain deputy to be getting so drunk on a Friday night he can’t drive his date home?”
My jaw clenches, and I’m not sure if I want to laugh or snatch him up by the neck. “It’s illegal to drive if you’ve been drinking, Jimmy.” My voice is low, and his bravado wavers. He takes a few steps back and moves closer to Robbie’s desk.
The sheriff leans back in his chair. He puts his hand over his mouth, and his blue eyes narrow, moving back and forth between Jimmy and me. “Your uncle told me you’re driving for Uber now.”
“Yes, and I got a call from upstairs just before midnight last night. Tabitha Green.”
“Well, I bet that just made your night, now, didn’t it.”
I give Robbie a glance, and his hand is covering the curl of his lips, his eyes are twinkling with mischief.
“It did not. She was coming out of his apartment, dressed in nothing but an old tee and some boxers.”
Robbie’s brows shoot up, and I take a step toward Jimmy. “Her clothes had paint on them. Don’t be talking about us around town.”
“Probably too late for that,” Robbie mutters through an exhale.
“Anyway, aren’t you going to reprimand him or something?” Jimmy glares at me. “Strip him of his duties?”
Robbie sits forward in his chair, eyes on his desk. “That Uber service. That’s to help people get home who might’ve… had a little too much fun to drive themselves, right?”
“Yes, sir.” Jimmy steps closer to the desk.
“Odd name, Uber. Is that German for something?”
“I don’t know.” The boy’s growing impatient.
“Never mind. It sounds like you did a good job last night, Jimmy.” Robbie relaxes back in his chair. “What Chad does on his own time is none of my business. Or yours.”
“That’s it? That’s all you’re going to say to him?” Jimmy turns to face me, eyes blazing. “You’d better watch your step, Tucker. Tabby’s not like what they say. You’re not going to mess around with her like she’s some kind of… Jacinda.”
Robbie clears his throat. “Jezebel.”
The kid nods. “That’s right. Jezebel. Tabby’s a lady. She should be treated like a lady.”
“I agree.” My voice is a low rumble, and Jimmy keeps a safe distance between us as he heads for the door.
“Remember this…” He steps forward slightly. “I’m watching you.”
I straighten to my full height so he gets the picture. “That so?”
He fumbles with the door handle and heads out fast. I look back at Robbie, who’s leaning over his desk again, grinning like a Cheshire cat.
“He’s watching me.”
Robbie nods. “That Tabby Green must be something pretty special.”
Catching the door handle, I don’t have to think about it. “She is.”
Eleven
Tabby
The sun is making its way down the sky as I lock up the bakery, and Coco is skipping around on the front porch, Molly the Dolly safely in her arms.
“Don’t leave her anywhere else, okay?” We had to make a special trip to Emberly’s apartment over the store to retrieve the rag doll my little guest can’t live without. “I’m surprised your mama didn’t make sure you had it.”
“She put her in my suitcase, but Molly doesn’t like the dark. So I took her out.”
“I see.”
Emberly had packed Coco a tiny, pink suitcase with wheels monogrammed with a fancy CCW for Colette Corinne Warren. It contains a nightgown, tiny panties, a change of clothes, and more toys than any kid needs for a one-night sleepover… but no Molly the Dolly.
“Want a poboy for dinner?” I slip the key in the pocket of my black capris and straighten the hem of my tight red sweater.
It’s short sleeved and light, just right for this warm night, and it matches my red lipstick perfectly. The black is fading out of my hair, and I’m trying to decide if I want to redo it or let it be brown for the first time in forever. My natural highlights are starting to show and my bangs are to my jaw now, taking the edge off my usual Bettie Page.
“Yes, yes, yes!” Coco hops in time with every yes, one little fist pumping over her head. “I want mac and cheese.”
“Wait.” I pause. “Mac and cheese or poboys?”
“Both!”
I give her a frown then decide to see what André can do with that order. He is the master, after all, and I’m all about keeping Princess Coco the Kangaroo happy while her mom’s out of town.
I’m just turning to the bike when I slam into Daisy Sales. My heart plunges to my feet. We haven’t spoken since Travis the Cheater left town last year.
“Oh!” Daisy steps back, nearly dropping the open catalog in her hands. “I didn’t see you!” Her voice is loud and too high, and I think she might be as wigged out seeing me as I am seeing her.
“Melody!” Coco stops hopping and runs to grab Daisy’s blonde toddler in a hug.
The little girl fusses, trying to push out of the embrace.
“Melly, give Coco a hug!” Daisy drops to a squat, catching her daughter’s waving arms. “Sorry, Coco. She’s been fussy all day.”
“Mama says babies are fussy.” Coco nods as if she’s an expert. “She calls it the terrible twos.”
I’d laugh if I weren’t still getting over bumping into my nemesis. “Melody’s three now, isn’t she?”
Daisy stands, smoothing her hands down the front of the flowered sundress she’s wearing. Her straw-colored hair is stick straight, and I can tell she tried to braid it to get some waves in there. A few telltale ripples are around her temples.
“Next week.” Her hands shake, and now I know she’s nervous. “I was going to talk to Emberly about a birthday cake. Is she out of town?”
Somehow, Daisy’s nervousness cancels out mine. “Well, you picked the perfect time. She’s at a cake decorating class in Brookhaven. She’ll be back tomorrow.”
“Oh… okay.” She looks down at her feet again, tucking the catalog under her arm. “I’ll check in with her then, I guess.”
“What’s your favorite cake, Melly?” Coco is holding the little girl’s hand, trying to get her to talk. “Mine’s mermaid.”
I can’t even imagine what her mom has come up with to make a mermaid cake. Returning to Daisy, I decide maybe it’s time to bury the hatchet. I don’t give a shit about Travis anymore anyway.
“I can take the order now if you want? I have the keys. Somebody left Molly the Dolly in her mom’s apartment upstairs.”
I tilt my head down to Miss Priss, who’s holding Melody’s hand and trying to walk her to the pack-n-save. Melody’s fussing and twisting her arm, trying to get out of Coco’s grip.
“Oh, no! I mean, that’s okay. I can wait and call tomorrow. Or walk over on Monday. I don’t have to bother you.” Daisy looks up ahead to where her daughter has sat down on the porch in front of Wyatt’s hardware store. “I’d better help Coco.”
I look up to see Coco trying to get the baby to stand. Melody only waves her chubby arms and squeals.
“Hey,” I catch Daisy’s skinny arm. “It’s okay for us to be friends again. I mean, we can say hi and stuff.”
Daisy and I never really hung out together. In fact, you could’ve knocked my socks off when I found out Travis was sleeping around with her. The sleeping around part… well, I probably saw that coming a mile away, but not with Daisy.
She meets my eyes, and her brown ones are so sad. “Okay.” She nods, looking down again. “Have you… Do you ever hear from him?”
“Are you kidding me? If that jackhole knows what’s good for him, he’ll stay far away from this town. I might go Lorena Bobbitt on his…” Catching myself, I remember I’ve got Coco, the Mouth of the South, with me. “You know.”
Thin blonde eyebrows shoot up, and she looks away again fast, to the little girl who’s squealing angrily and with more force at the persistent Coco. “I’d better get Melody before Wyatt comes out.”
She scampers away, up the connected porches, and I put my hand on my hip. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say Daisy Sales fell pretty hard for Travis “Cheater” Walker. I’m not sure what to make of it. With a shrug, I follow her. Nothing to make of it.
“Come on, Coo-coo. You’ve bothered this baby enough.” I catch her hand, and give her a gentle tug. “Let’s get some food.”
She takes my hand and resumes skipping, swinging Molly as she sings. “Mac and cheese. If you please…”
“Tabb-ay!” André hollers out my name as I enter the store. “You’re looking good for fresh off a night of debauchery.”
I look around fast, but nobody’s here but us. “Who told you that?”
“And Miss Coco Chanel!” He starts to laugh, looking up at me. “Who do you think? Our very own Uber hot line.”
Jimmy Rhodes. I’m going to strangle him. “Isn’t gossiping about your clients against some Uber rule?”
“You have to take that up with the management. Now what can I get for you ladies?”
“Mac and cheese… If you please!” Coco hops in place, doing her little cheer fist-pump over her head. I’m still trying to recover
from the blaze of fury in my chest at Jimmy’s big mouth.
“One mac and cheese poboy, coming right up! And what can I get for you?” André turns to me.
“That’s a thing?” My eyebrows rise, and I peruse the menu, trying to decide. “I just had chicken salad last night…”
“I made it for you.” He nods, still acting like he’s in on some big secret.
Good grief. The last thing I want is to be the center of this goofy little town’s attention. I can just see Betty Pepper and all her old church-lady friends going to town about this one. Me stealing their hunky hunky Eagle Scout and corrupting him… As if.
“I’ll have—”
The bell above the door rings, cutting me off. André calls out again. “My boy Chad. Look who’s here!”
Nerves fly through my insides, and I spin around to see Deputy Sex standing right there on the landing. Damn, he looks good even in clothes, especially when that friendly smile curls his lips, and that dimple appears. Holy shit.
“Hey, Tabby.” He crosses to where I’m standing like a deer in headlights. “I was going to stop by later.”
“Chad! Chad! Chad! Sher-riff Chad!” Coco hops around me to where he’s standing, still pumping her fist.
He scoops her up so fast it takes my breath away. His muscles flex, Coco throws her arms around his neck in a hug, and that big hand sliding up and down her back so gently… His dimpled smile.
It’s possible my ovaries exploded.
Wait—I don’t want kids! Shit! Panic throws cold water on my lust-filled reaction. If Coco says anything about tequila or babies or the man you’ll marry, I will drop dead.
Coco sits back on his arm. “I’m spending the night with Aunt Tabby tonight!”
“Is that right?” He bends forward to put her down. “Where’s your mamma?”
“She’s learning how to make roses.”
A little wrinkle is between Chad’s brows when he straightens, and those whiskey eyes do a quick scan from my head to my toes before locking his gaze with mine. I feel like I’ve been mentally undressed good and proper, and my panties are burning up.