by A. J. Pine
He pushed the door closed behind them. “I figured if we went to eat anywhere in town we’d be dealing more with the stares and whispers than anything else. Thought if I took you somewhere outside of town you’d think I didn’t want anyone to know I was taking you out. Decided that if I had the whole day off, I might as well make use of it. So yeah, I cooked for you.”
This made her smile. “So you do want people to know you’re with me tonight?”
“I want my damned privacy,” he said. “And to show you a good time. The rest doesn’t matter as long as it’s you and me tonight.”
Dixie barked and looked up from where she was tearing apart a piece of rawhide.
“And your ferocious beast,” Olivia said, laughing.
She dropped down to a squat and gave the dog a scratch behind the ears. Dixie responded by rolling onto her back, exposing her belly for additional scratches. The dog wriggled back and forth, and Olivia lost her balance. She yelped with laughter as she collapsed right onto her butt.
“You okay?” Cash said, extending a hand.
She let him help her up, and she brushed off the skirt of her dress. “Yes, but I do seem to have trouble staying on my own two feet when I’m around you, Sheriff.”
“Any idea why that is?” he asked.
She looked deep into those green eyes of his, hoping for some sort of logical answer as to how, just a few days ago, she’d run so far and fast from that forever she’d ended up in handcuffs, yet now she was already wondering how in the heck she’d be able to walk away from this man and never look back.
“Guess you just make me weak in the knees,” she said, voice shaky.
He wrapped an arm around her waist. “I don’t think there’s one weak bone in your body, Olivia Belle, but far be it for me to argue with a beautiful woman who knows her obscure trivia.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck. “And far be it for me to go one more second without kissing a man who cooked me dinner.”
Chapter Ten
And just like that, her mouth claimed his.
Cash felt Olivia smile against him as she parted her lips, and somehow that made the kiss even sexier—knowing how much she was enjoying it.
His hands slid up her sides, and she sucked in a breath as his thumb grazed the side of her breast. That was all it took to unleash something in him he hadn’t known still existed.
It was more than hunger. More than want. Cash Hawkins needed this woman, and he wasn’t sure how to wrap his brain around that. He’d let himself believe for so long that he didn’t need anyone or anything. Because needing someone and then losing them? That was something Cash had experienced too often to write off as coincidence.
He’d loved and lost, in more ways than one. And until Olivia Belle blew into town, he’d whittled down that circumference of love to the only two females he’d let past his barriers: Lucinda and Dixie.
Cash’s tongue tangled with hers, but he needed to come up for air. So he kissed down the length of her neck, breathing in her sweet citrus scent. He paid equal attention to each of her bare shoulders, lips brushing across skin pebbled with gooseflesh.
But he still couldn’t quite catch his breath. He couldn’t let go of one, singular thought.
In the span of four days he’d gone from wanting to get Olivia Belle and her disregard for rules and regulations out of his hair to needing her in his bed tonight—and all the nights to come.
The oven timer went off, and he silently thanked the buzzer for a moment of reprieve.
“We should eat,” he said, backing away, his voice hoarse.
She straightened out nonexistent wrinkles in her dress and stared at him. “How the heck did you cook me dinner while we were playing Trivial Pursuit at the B and B?”
This, at least, got him to grin. “Walters and Adams have a key to the place. I texted them when to come on up and preheat the oven. I prepared everything and left it all marinating in the fridge. Just had to be thrown in to bake while I was—detained.”
She breathed in deep, then closed her eyes and sighed. “Mmm. I’m starving, and whatever you made smells unbelievable.” She strode toward the table. “Can I pour you a glass of wine while you’re getting everything out of the oven?”
“Sounds perfect.”
A bottle of pinot noir later, he watched as Olivia swirled her last bite of steak in the marinade. “Seriously?” she said after she swallowed. “I thought single men subsisted solely on canned beer and frozen pizza.”
He coughed on his last sip of wine. He wouldn’t confirm how close to the truth she was. It wasn’t that he couldn’t cook. Her empty plate was evidence enough of that. It was that he didn’t see the point of putting in so much effort just to eat alone.
“Guess I’m not your typical single man,” Cash said.
She polished off the rest of her wine. “I guess you’re not,” she said. She reached down and rubbed her ankle under the table.
“Still bugging you?” he asked.
She winced slightly. “It wasn’t,” she said. “But I think walking around in heels mighta made it a little angry.”
He stood and offered her his hand. “Come here.”
She didn’t question him, just placed her palm in his and let him lead her to the couch.
“Sit,” he said, and when she gave him a pointed look, he added, “please.”
She sat, as did he, a little farther apart than he might have liked. But he had work to do before—well, before anything went further than the couch. If it, in fact, did.
He unzipped her boots and pulled off her ankle socks. Then he swung her legs so her feet were in his lap, cherry-red painted toes and all.
“What are you—oooh,” she said as he started massaging her foot. She sunk into the arm of the couch and hummed. “God, that feels good.”
He worked his way up her calf, kneading her tight muscles.
She sighed with what he hoped was pleasure.
“Ever since the knee injury, I see this athletic masseuse every now and then. When the muscles get too tight. The trick is that you gotta take care of the muscles around the injury because when they seize up, it makes it hurt more.”
“Mmm,” she said, eyes falling closed. “Was something hurting me? I can’t seem to remember.” Then she flexed and pointed her uninjured foot. “I know this one isn’t hurt, but I might walk funny if the muscles in this leg are all tight when the other one is soooo relaxed.”
He laughed softly and happily turned his attention to the other foot. “We wouldn’t want that to happen, now, would we?”
She opened her eyes and shook her head. “I could injure myself so badly I might not be able to drive home in time to get back to work on Monday.”
His eyes met hers. “Would that be so bad?”
“Being too injured to drive?”
He shook his head. “Staying longer.”
She was silent for a long moment, and he knew he should take the words back—words that were full of pressure to commit, to plant her feet in one place for the long haul. Something she’d made clear she didn’t do—and something he had convinced himself he no longer wanted.
“You know what?” he finally said. “Don’t answer that.”
Her mouth fell open. “What if I want to answer?”
“If you wanted to, you would have. But you don’t because you didn’t. So let’s just take the question off the table.”
She yanked her feet from his lap and straightened. “Do you think you know what’s best for me?”
“Whoa,” he said, hands raised in surrender. “I wasn’t—”
“You were deciding what I needed, just like everyone back in my real life who thinks I need to deal with reality.”
His jaw tightened. “And you don’t see me as reality.”
Her hands balled into fists. “I didn’t say—”
“But you did.”
Now she groaned through gritted teeth. “Cash Hawkins, you are infuriating.”
Infuriating? She was goin
g to call him infuriating? “Well, you, Olivia Belle, are one-hundred-and-fifty percent maddening. Guess we’re quite the pair if we’re not talking about the real world.”
She crossed her arms. “You met me four days ago, and you think you know me well enough to want me for longer?”
He straightened as well because two could play at this game. “What I know is that you make my blood damn near boil.”
“With anger,” she interrupted, but her voice had softened.
He nodded. “And downright irritation.”
She scoffed.
“But what I also know,” he added, “is that in four days you’ve made me realize the daily routine that’s worked so damn well for me might not be enough.”
She sucked in a deep breath, most likely to continue tearing him a new one, but then her shoulders relaxed as she blew it out.
“I make you want more out of your life?” she asked, the momentary anger in her voice fizzling to nothing.
“Yes,” he admitted.
“I also make you smile sometimes.”
“Yeah,” he said, the corner of his mouth turning up. “You do that, too.” He slid closer to her, then scooped her into his lap. He figured her wrapping her arms around his neck was a good sign. “I know it’s only been a few days, but here’s the thing: San Francisco and Oak Bluff—it’s not as if the two are on opposite sides of the planet.”
“True,” she said. “But you already know I’m no good at this. It’s not just Michael. I dated three guys when I was an undergrad. Ended it each time one asked me to go home for the weekend to meet his parents or even mentioned the idea of looking at engagement rings. If I can’t make it stick with someone I see every day, what makes you think I’d be any better with you?”
He pressed his hand above her heart and felt it race against his palm.
“Can I ask you something?” he said.
She nodded.
“Any of those other guys make your heart do this?”
She shook her head slowly.
He raised a brow. “I have a theory, Ms. Belle. I think you’ve been so damned scared you’ll end up like your parents that you’ve made sure you never get that far. We’re a lot alike, you know. I’ve kept everyone at arm’s length to protect myself from loss while you’ve surrounded yourself with people you know will keep your heart safe.”
“And how do these people keep my heart safe?” she asked, though he was pretty sure she knew the answer.
“Because.” He shrugged. “You never truly give it to anyone. That way it never gets broken.”
She blew out a breath. “You could break it.”
“And you could destroy mine. I have no doubt about it.”
She pulled him closer, resting her forehead on his. “I don’t want to destroy your heart, Sheriff.”
He laughed softly. “And I sure as hell don’t want to break yours.”
“So what do we do?” she asked.
He kissed her once, soft and slow, and she hummed a sweet moan against his lips.
“We take these next few days to figure it out.”
She nodded.
“Stay with me tonight,” he said, deciding to go for broke.
She squeezed him tight, then kissed the line of his jaw all the way to his ear, her breath against his skin driving him completely mad.
“Okay, Sheriff,” she said. “You got yourself a deal.”
He stood with her in his arms and strode to the bedroom in ten easy steps, kicking the door shut behind them before lowering her to her feet.
Wordlessly she unzipped the back of her dress and let it pool around her ankles so she stood before him in nothing but a pair of black lace panties.
For a second it was as if all the breath had been sucked from his lungs, and he could barely breathe, let alone speak. Even though Cash was a man of few words, he felt like now would be a good time to say something. To say the right thing. But he wasn’t quite sure what that was.
“I didn’t realize it until now,” he said, finally recovering his voice.
“What’s that?” she asked.
“Maybe it can happen more than once.”
Her brows drew together.
“All these years I’ve told myself I had my chance and blew it,” Cash continued. “I convinced myself that Lucinda finding happiness again and again—even after losing it—was an exception to the rule, but I’m not so sure anymore. Maybe I didn’t put my life on hold all these years just to play it safe. Maybe I did it—because I was waiting for you.”
“That’s a lot of maybes,” she said, and he noted the slight tremble in her voice.
“Sure is.”
She stepped toward him then and unbuttoned his shirt, pulling it down his arms and letting it fall to the floor. She unbuckled his belt, helped him out of his jeans. Gone went the boxer briefs, too.
“Wow,” she said softly.
He raised a brow, then hooked a finger inside the seam of her panties.
“May I?” he asked.
She nodded, and he lowered himself to one knee, carefully sliding the undergarment over her soft skin, the tips of his fingers exploring her as they trailed the length of her perfect legs.
Perfect because the legs belonged to her.
“I’m on the pill,” she blurted with a slight wince. “In case you were wondering.”
He grinned. “I was prepared if things were otherwise.”
He pulled her to him, her soft breasts against his torso, and she let out a sweet sigh.
“I forget to breathe around you, sometimes.” She kissed his neck.
“I guess that makes two of us. Because you take my damned breath away.”
He backed her toward the bed, which he’d actually made to impress her. He realized now there wouldn’t be much looking at it, though. And he was perfectly okay with that.
He laid her down on her back and just stared at her for a long moment. Then he dipped his head, kissing her soft lips, then her neck and her collarbone until he came to the swell of her breast. Her stomach contracted, and he could tell she was holding her breath. He grinned as he flicked his tongue out, tasting her hardened peak.
She gasped and dug her fingers into his hair, which was all the encouragement he needed to continue kissing, licking, nipping.
“More,” she pleaded.
God, he loved that sound in her breathless voice, a sound that echoed everything he couldn’t quite put into words.
Need.
Hell yes, he craved her touch, hungered for the taste of her skin on his tongue. But something more than physical was happening here, wasn’t it? Did she feel it, too?
“Cash,” she said, and he heard it again. That something more. “Please.”
“Whatever you want, Ms. Belle.” He crawled over her, kissed her, then entered her as her legs fell open, inviting him in.
Every dip and swell of her curves was brand new, unexplored territory. Yet at the same time it was as if he’d known her all his life. They moved to a rhythm that was solely their own. When she kissed him, he didn’t taste the bottle of wine they’d polished off with dinner. He tasted home. Because hell, that was what this woman was for him.
He brushed his lips against hers, teased them with his tongue, and she gripped him tighter, pulled him closer. Deeper.
“Cash,” she said, a breathless plea, and he knew she was close.
“It would be worth it,” he said, slowly sliding out and then entering her again.
She gasped and opened her eyes. “What would?”
He rolled to his side, pulling her with him, hooking her leg over his hip.
“You—destroying my heart. It’d be worth it.”
Her breathing hitched, and he wasn’t sure if it was because he’d just snuck his hand between the place where they joined or if she felt it, too—the falling.
Because it wasn’t that he could fall for this woman.
He was falling. Had possibly already hit the ground with deadly, destructive force. B
ut he didn’t care. All that mattered was this moment, showing her how well they actually fit.
Like Cinderella’s glass slipper.
He chuckled, but she was too close to the edge to notice, and soon he would be, too.
He fell onto his back, pulling her on top of him and letting her take the wheel for the final moments.
“God, you’re gorgeous,” he said, staring up at her, her wild curls spilling over her shoulders and a look in her eyes that made it feel like all she could see was him.
She leaned down—he thought to kiss him—but instead nipped at his ear.
“And you,” she whispered, her breath warm against his already heated skin, “are the most beautiful, wonderful, genuine man I’ve ever met. If I knew how to give someone my heart, Cash Hawkins, it’d be yours.”
And before he could speak the words that were on the tip of his tongue, she kissed him and took them both the rest of the way home.
Hours later, when she was still naked and asleep in the crook of his arm, he realized all the work he’d done protecting himself—convincing himself he’d already had his one shot at love—was complete and utter horseshit.
It didn’t matter if she was unable to give her heart away. She had his, now, and with it the power to crush it into a million irreparable pieces.
What the hell had he gone and done?
Chapter Eleven
It had been two nights since Olivia had slept in Cash’s arms and two whole days since she’d seen him. She’d shopped, hiked, and cuddled in the B and B sitting room with a romance novel she’d found on the bookshelf. Her days had been both pure bliss and pure agony as she ached to see him again, which made no sense. Olivia Belle had never ached for anyone before. Except now she did.
She hoped Cash slept during those forty-eight hours on duty. Maybe that was why he lived above the station. What a solitary existence that seemed to be—just him and Dixie behind a desk or in that small apartment.
Where he’d cooked her dinner and made love to her.
She checked her texts as she swung her feet beneath the sidewalk bench where she waited for Cash’s Tahoe to pull up. First she reread the one he’d sent her late last night.