by Ava Miles
“Whoa!” he cried out, grabbing it and setting it down on the bottom slat. “Careful there, Abs. That’s special merchandise.”
She narrowed her eyes at his use of his intimate nickname for her. “It can be replaced.”
His face clenched for a second. She felt bad for hurting him, but she looked away quickly so she wouldn’t apologize.
She couldn’t give ground. If she started, she’d never stop.
He leaned forward. “Keith? How do you feel about replacing things? I have this old shirt from when I first visited Ole Miss University. It’s down south in my home state of Mississippi.”
“I can spell Mississippi.”
“Show me.”
He recited the letters like a spelling bee champion. Rhett gave him a high–five.
“That’s pretty good. So, back to my story. I was about Dustin’s age when my mama bought me a Rebel T–shirt. That’s their mascot,” he told an eagerly–listening Keith. “I wore it everywhere. Even until I popped a seam in the shoulder playing softball. But I kept it. It’s a bit tight now, but I still wear it sometimes.”
Her throat grew hot and dry, so she reached for a water bottle.
He beat her to it. “Let me.”
He uncapped it. Cleaned off the condensation by rubbing it against his T–shirt. She stared at the wet spots. Couldn’t miss the six–pack under the thin cotton. He reached for her hand and fit it into her palm with slow deliberation. His touch burned—everywhere.
Her throat squeezed, and the urge to cry swept through her. She wanted to reach for him so badly, she locked her hands under her ribs.
“Come on, Keith. Let’s get closer to the field.” Rhett scooped him up and then transferred him to a piggy–back hold. Keith’s smile could have powered a generator.
“Are you coming, Ms. Maven?”
Rhett wiggled like a worm, making Keith giggle and grab his shoulders. “Nah. We’ll give her a minute. She knows we’ll be back.”
His face was expressionless.
She couldn’t swallow the water she’d just sipped.
He jogged down the stairs, making Keith squeal, and then bucked like a horse—something he’d done when Dustin was little.
She caressed her throat and somehow managed not to choke.
Dustin dashed to the sidelines for a moment to greet the newcomer, his face beaming as they one–arm hugged.
There was just something about Rhett.
There always had been. She was desperately afraid there always would be.
He gave her space, pushed her to the limit, and then backed off again. The pattern denoted his strategic genius. Keith cheered from his back, making her wonder if Rhett’s ears were ringing. He didn’t seem to mind. The two talked like old friends.
To an observer, they could be father and son, rooting for an older brother. Without his usual get–up, Rhett looked like a dad. A really hot dad—someone the other girls would swoon over. A few people might mistake them for a family.
Her breath hitched. She reached for her inhaler. Her asthma didn’t bother her often, but Rhett seemed to aggravate it by his sheer presence.
She tucked it away and looked back at the field. He was looking at her from over his shoulder, his mouth grim.
When practice ended, Dustin’s teammates patted him on the back. Others hung back and talked to him. Good, he was making friends. With school a couple of months away, this was the best place to start. She prayed they would be good friends. God knows he needed them.
When the last boy took off, Dustin jogged back over to Rhett and gave him a bear hug, making Keith laugh. Rhett set the younger boy down and turned his back to Dustin like he was offering to give him a piggyback. Dustin slapped him away, laughing, but Rhett craned his head and gestured to his back again. Her son finally leapt on.
Rhett always had a physical way of showing his affection. Her palms itched, wanting to be the recipient of all that intensity and care. As he raced around with Dustin on his back, Keith ran alongside them. They were cheering something. She cocked her ear.
She knew the cadence before she picked up the words of the Ole Miss cheer, Hotty Toddy. She frowned. It wasn’t appropriate for Keith, but that hadn’t stopped Rhett from teaching it to Dustin years ago on a cool fall Saturday during a football game. Since he sang it frequently, she knew it by heart too—especially since he’d made her sing it to him in bed wearing his old Eli Manning jersey with Number 10 in bold white. Her face flamed. He’d called her Hotty Toddy as he’d licked his way up her belly.
Are you ready?
Hell yes! Damn Right!
Hotty Toddy, Gosh almighty
Who the hell are we, Hey!
Flim Flam, Bim Bam
Ole Miss By Damn!
Rhett pretended to be a fly–by–the–seat–of–his–pants kind of guy, but she knew he was methodical. Diabolical.
He was sending her a message.
Was she ready?
Hell no!
Chapter 25
Mac busied himself preparing the steaks while Peggy settled herself on a bar stool at the kitchen counter. She fussed with the shirt’s hem. It cruised just below her knees, highlighting her strong, supple calves. He’d have to explore those legs later.
There was a lot to explore.
And she was already putting up walls.
His hand clenched around the package as he tore off the cling–wrap. Why did he feel this resentment over her resistance? Had he thought she’d simply fall at his feet once they made love? Who was he kidding? He knew she’d be as prickly as ever. Patience was a must.
He’d told her the truth. If he hadn’t put himself out there, nothing would have happened. He could carry the water for a while. Someday she’d want to help. He was counting on her loving nature. She had it—all you had to do was see her with Keith to know that. She simply wasn’t used to sharing it with others. Hadn’t he seen her reluctance with Tanner and the Hales? How long was he going to have to wait until she called him Mac again? Her hushed cry had been the sweetest music to his ears.
“So, do you have any more information about the bomb threat now that you’ve offered the reward?” she asked, fingers pulling down the shirt modestly.
He gave the steaks a good whack with a wooden spoon, more out of frustration than a need to tenderize them. “Peg, we are not going to have any shop talk when we’re together.”
“But—”
“You’ve made it clear that you don’t want to be seen in public with me. Yet. This is my rule. I want to keep our professional and personal interactions separate. I’ll treat you like the deputy sheriff when you’re on duty, but when you’re with me, I only want to be with you. ”
She hiked up her shoulder. “That’s weird.”
“Whatever.” He rubbed the steaks with some olive oil and salt and pepper. “So, now that I’ve seen what a regular Annie Oakley you are, I’m curious. How old were you when you first fired a gun?”
Her hands smoothed her shirt down again. She gave him another pained look, a please–don’t–expect–me–to–talk look.
He pointed to the salad mixings in front of her. “Can you slice the vegetables?”
That wary expression again. “Ah…sure.”
He used a serrated knife to slice the bread for bruschetta. “You were saying?”
She cut a tomato in half. “Umm… I was seventeen.”
He ground his teeth. Never let anyone say Peggy’s mouth got away with her. “That’s pretty young. Did Tanner show you?”
She shook her head, cutting the cucumber into precise circles. “No. I was dating a boy who really liked the outdoors. He took me hunting. I didn’t like killing animals, but he let me shoot his gun. I didn’t kill anything—which I was grateful for—but I liked how it felt.”
“It made you feel powerful.”
“Yes, how did you know?”
He brought a bowl over by her and sat down. “It’s a common lure. So did you decide to become a cop that day?”<
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Her carrot cutting displayed the precision of a julienne. “I don’t know when it came to me.”
He didn’t believe her for a minute, but he didn’t call her out on it.
“So, were you one of the best shots in the academy?”
Her mouth curved as she threw the carrots in the bowl he’d provided. “You’re not the first to call me Annie Oakley.”
“Ever think about going blond?”
Her fingers tentatively brushed her short hair. “No.”
“Good. I like brunettes.” He kissed her square on the mouth. Her frame tensed up like she wasn’t used to being touched. Well, that could be changed.
“So why do you hate guns so much?” Her voice held an edge.
“I’ll bet you think some guy I was playing cards with pulled one on me, right?”
She lifted a shoulder, making the shirt peek open. The view distracted him from dicing the green olives Rhett always kept for dirty martinis.
“Well, you’re close. I was coming out of a two–day poker game at a casino when I heard some shots near the blackjack tables. The shooter was ten yards away. I’d never seen anyone that crazed before, not even my old man after he’d lost a stack and spent the night drinking. There was a pregnant woman nearby. I remember looking at her. She’d put her hands around her belly. I wondered if she realized what she was doing. Not every parent’s first instinct is to protect their child. My parents never had it.”
A cucumber rolled when she stopped cutting it.
“I’d talked my old man down a few times when he was in a state. So I held out my hands to this guy and walked toward him. Asked what his name was. Got him talking. It all worked out.”
Peggy laid her knife aside. “When was this?”
“About ten years ago.”
She snapped her fingers. “In Vegas, right?”
His neck prickled. Damn, he hadn’t thought she’d make the connection. “Yes.”
“I remember that. Now, who’s holding back? It all worked out. Right. I seem to remember some famous poker player offering himself up as a hostage. They had pictures in the paper of the perp walking out with a gun to your head. You put him in your car and let him go.”
Yes, and he’d thrown up in the bathroom after the police finished questioning him. “And you probably think I was in the wrong for offering up my car. Well, he didn’t clear the drive before the cops surrounded him.”
“No, it was brilliant.” She wagged a celery stalk at him. “After he drove off, you got everyone inside. Saved countless lives.”
“He only had four more bullets in the chamber.” Not that he’d known that at the time.
“Which he could have emptied into you! I can’t believe that didn’t come up…”
A smile tugged at his lips. “When you ran me?”
She narrowed those delicious brown eyes. “Of course I ran you. Duh!”
He puffed out his chest playfully. “It probably moved down the search engine after all my championship wins.”
She chewed on her lip, making him want to kiss her.
“You didn’t mention this during the town meeting when you were trying to obtain the city council’s permission for your hotel. You would have been a shoe–in with that story.”
“I like to let my work speak for itself.”
“Most people would use a heroic gesture like that to pave their way.”
“I’m not ‘most.’” He bumped her playfully. “So, did you find anything else interesting?”
Her fist punched him in the shoulder, delighting him. “I know you sometimes have a penchant to be Speedy Gonzales with your cars.”
Ah, his favorite. “Hello, pussy cats! You looking for a nice fat mouse for deenner?” he said in his best imitation.
Her laughter swept through the kitchen like the sound of wind chimes. “Hey, that’s pretty good.”
“I watched Looney Tunes with Dustin when he was growing up. I can do all the voices. He used to beg me.”
He watched in sheer fascination as her luscious mouth curved into a genuine smile. “Who else can you do?”
“Who’s your favorite character?”
Her thumb stroked her chin. “Foghorn Leghorn.”
Foghorn seemed too silly for her. “You like the chicken? Why does that surprise me? Well, Rhett does a Southern accent better than I can, but let’s see what you think of my rendition. Well, now, ah, well, now that woman’s about as cold as a nudist on an iceberg.”
Her laughter blew out again. “He did not say that.”
His own laughter surfaced. “He did so. I remember because I had to explain what a nudist was to Dustin. He was six.”
“Did you tell him the truth?”
Did she know her eyes sparkled when she laughed? Now that he did, he planned on seeing it again and again. “I always tell him the truth, or as close as I can get. I hate lying.”
Her lids fluttered down.
“Something we have in common,” he supplied since he knew she was thinking it. “Dustin’s response was priceless. He simply couldn’t understand why anyone would want to run around outside naked for fear of ticks, bug bites, bee stings, and sunburn. And detention would be the worst part about it, he said. Apparently another boy was given detention when he streaked down the hall after gym class, making the girls scream bloody murder. He was so serious I had to bite my lip to keep from losing it.”
Her shoulders shook. “Keith does the same thing. He came home after learning about Native Americans and said he’d rather be shot by an arrow than a bullet. When I asked why, he put his hands on his hip like I was the dumbest person alive and informed me in his haughtiest tone possible that you could pull an arrow out with your hand. You didn’t have to have surgery. I nodded, went into the laundry room, and pressed my face into the ironing board so he wouldn’t hear me laughing.”
“Dustin would die if he knew I was telling you this.”
“Keith’s not usually embarrassed, but he has his moments.”
They talked about the boys, sharing stories, making each other laugh. Her guard lowered, giving him a glimpse of what he’d always guessed was inside—a fun, warm, loving woman. His heart sputtered as he put the steaks on the grill. She was working beside him, tossing the salad and topping the bruschetta.
Mac talked her into opening a bottle of red wine and tucked her close when she brought it to him. He felt her tense and then relax into his embrace.
She held the plates while he dished out the food. And then he sat back and savored the sheer pleasure of eating a meal with her while she was in a man’s shirt.
When they loaded the last dish into the dishwasher, he came up behind her. Took the wine glass from her hand and tugged her into his arms. Took her mouth in a slow, sweet kiss. Let her tell him if she wanted to take it any further.
Her body curled around him, and she opened her mouth to him.
In that instant, his heart lay on the floor.
He picked her up again. Muffled her protests.
When he laid her on the bed, he slowly undid the buttons. Smoothed the shirt open.
“I forgot to say it before.” His fingers caressed her breast. “You’re beautiful.”
Her eyes widened. “You don’t have to say that.”
He shrugged off his robe and slid over her, letting their skin start a fire. “Don’t tell me not to tell the truth.”
Her mouth pinched, but she didn’t argue, so he put his mouth to hers and kissed her self–doubt away. Touched her until she threw her head back. Let his hands find all the secret places he hadn’t discovered the first time.
When she called out his first name, he lost the battle for control. God, it felt incredible not to have to beg her to say it. He slid into her. Pressed his brow to hers when her hips lifted to meet his first thrust. Her breath panted against his mouth as he took them higher, went even deeper. When she convulsed again in his arms, he linked their hands and let go, filled with a new peace, knowing they’d traveled some
where uncharted tonight.
Her muscles tensed again when he tugged her onto his chest to hold her, but only for a millisecond. Her fingers traced his skin softly. He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. She buried her face against his shoulder. When she rose to dress, he let her go.
“When are we going to see each other again?” he asked, pulling on his T–shirt.
She smoothed her mussed hair down. “Ah…we’ll have to see.”
Oh, the walls were going up again. “How about we go to Brasserie Dare Friday night instead of what we’d planned? I like supporting Brian, and there’s no better place in town.”
Her spine went curtain–rod straight. His guts spilled out.
“I’m still not…ready to make this public.”
“Are you ashamed of me?” he made himself ask.
Her throat moved when she swallowed. “No…I…you have to understand. I went against you about the hotel. Being seen together undermines what I did.”
He could feel himself shutting down. “And you’re not finished trying, is that right?”
Her hands dug into her pockets. “Stop. It’s just that we don’t know how long this is going to last. I have a son to consider. I’m willing to see you, but let’s be discreet. I’m surprised you’re not more concerned about your reputation.”
Not when it came to his love life. “I don’t give a damn what other people think.”
“Well, good for you, but I’m an officer of the law in this community—and a woman—which isn’t the easiest combination. Plus, I don’t want to raise Keith’s hopes. He really likes you.”
He turned away, fighting with himself. He understood how she felt, even if he didn’t agree.
“How long?”
Her shoulder lifted. “Ah…six months—if we make it that long.”
“No way I’m waiting until Christmas. I’ll do three, but no more.” Dammit, they were going to make it that long and more.
“But you—”
“We need to compromise here, Peg. I can’t hide what’s between us that long. I won’t have any shame here. That’s final.”
She leaned down and tied her shoelaces. “Fine. I don’t have men spend the night at my house.”