“This has easily been the weirdest twenty-four hours of my life,” I announce, shifting my eyes away from him to watch the float of what looks, and definitely smells, like beer sloshing around the edges, never quite making it outside the glass. “Is that seriously beer?”
“Yep. And just wait until they tip that entire glass over Mayor Fuller.”
I shake my head, barely noticing I have my phone up and am recording the strange sight.
“You lied to me last night,” he says when my attention shifts back across the road, finding it empty of any Hollywood stars. Unless the time has just ticked over, and I’ve now been in Midsummer long enough that the weird, invisible shield has kicked in, and I’m now no longer able to see through the cunning disguise of a baseball cap.
Damn, I didn’t imagine him signaling me over to him, did I? That definitely happened … I think.
“Oh yeah?” I murmur, giving up on searching for Henry Prince. “Was that before you fucked me so good that I went blind for a good minute afterward, or after you threw my clothes at me and kicked me out of your house?” I ask, and perhaps a little too loudly, since the sheriff is now red-faced, nervously glancing around us.
He grabs my arm and drags me away from the crowd, pushing me up against the wall of a building just off the crowded street.
“You told me you were staying at The Last Resort in town,” he accuses.
I shake my head. “No, you assumed I was, and I never corrected you.”
“You should have said something.”
“When exactly should I have said something?”
He grinds his teeth, but he doesn’t argue the fact that he was less than welcoming.
“You can stay with me tonight,” he offers, or maybe that is more like demands.
“Actually, I’ve made other arrangements.”
“Who with?” he hastily snaps, and I wonder if I’m imagining the flash of jealousy I see.
“Does it matter?” I don’t bother waiting for an answer. “Look, I’m sorry I missed our appointment or whatever. I’ll go and make a statement now if it’ll get you off my back.” Not that I wouldn’t mind him on my back again …
Damn, focus, Conner!
“How long are you in town for?”
“Only a day or two more.” Either my lemon of a car will be able to be fixed on Monday, or I’m getting a bus out of here and abandoning the lemon to small town hell.
He seems to consider this, his eyes boring into mine, looking for who the hell knows what. “I need to be here for the parade. Come see me later tonight. Seven sharp.”
I want to tell him that seven is a little late, but again, the sheriff doesn’t wait around for an answer. He spots something in the crowd that he doesn’t like and marches away from me without a backward glance.
I can’t help admiring the way his uniform hugs his ass, or the strength of his arms when he singlehandedly pulls two men away from each other when one throws a punch at the other. A few stern words from their sheriff has them both backing away. If they were dogs, they would definitely have their tails between their legs.
I watch him for a moment longer, seeing the warm smiles directed his way and the easy way he returns them.
How can he seem so wound up, stern, and stubborn to me, and yet so carefree and relaxed to everyone else?
“There you are!” Love shouts from the street, coming up to me. “You missed the main attraction.” She smiles, waving her phone at me. “I got it all recorded.” She laughs then, bounding up to me and taking my arm as she walks me down the noisy street and back toward The Last Resort. “Aunt June is going to smell like a brewery for days!”
I snort, disbelieving that this is even happening.
When we get back to her place, I find I’m happy with the footage I shot today. Along with what Love gives me, I easily have enough to do a three part video, which I hope makes everyone laugh as hard as Love and I did.
I spend hours cutting the footage, adding in written text and adding my voice over the top to keep a running commentary. I don’t even know when Love left the room since I’ve been so wrapped up in my job, but when I finally do come up for air, I discover I’m alone.
She likely had to get started on her own work, or perhaps she had some paint to watch dry, which she deemed was more exciting than this. Watching someone edit a video can’t be all that interesting for an outsider. It sure isn’t glamorous.
Since I’m alone, I check my appearance one last time, rub my hand over my scruff on my chin and top lip, and wonder again if I should shave it. I always have, except for a handful of times I grew a mustache for Movemeber to raise awareness and money for men’s health. It still feels weird to see myself not looking clean cut, so I decide to ask my followers what they think.
I grab my work phone, set it up on my portable tripod, and once I’m sure the angle works, I stand with my back against the window, with the darkening view of the town of Midsummer, and introduce where I am and what I’m about to show them.
While my time in Midsummer hasn’t always been something to brag about, today has colored my view of the small town. It has charm, it’s fun and, from what Love inferred, I’ve barely scratched the surface of what Midsummer has to offer. So yes, I wear a cheesy, happy grin the entire time I’m talking. Yes, I fangirl a little when I mention having seen Henry Prince with my own eyes and thankfully have some footage to back that claim up. And yes, I’m secretly smug when I mention meeting the town sheriff and how much I would like him to use his cuffs on me.
It isn’t like the sheriff is likely to see it, and even if he does, I doubt a throwaway comment is going to bring him much care.
I finish off my intro, asking them what they think of my five o’clock shadow and hoping they’ll be kind in the comments section.
Once the video is posted, I shower again, change clothes, and set my work phone to charge before I make my way to the station with just minutes to spare.
At least I know where I’m going this time. I just have no clue what to expect.
It can’t be as bad as last night, though, right? And I am not falling for Sheriff Asshole’s charm again.
No way.
Chapter Five
The sheriff’s station is smack bang in the middle of the town. Instead of casting it off to the side, it’s sandwiched between an accounting office and a coffee place called Macy’s Coffee Gold. I’m not sure if that is standard for most small towns, but it feels random to me.
I glance through the large window and open blinds, seeing desks, scattered chairs, and left behind used coffee cups. I don’t see anyone inside, and other than the lights being left on, I’m not sure if anyone is even in here.
I light up my phone to check the time, finding I’m one minute early.
The sheriff did mean tonight, right?
I move to open the door but find it’s locked. Then I glance down at the handle and notice a button with a note stating that, for afterhours, you need to press it. I would have thought seven at night wasn’t late enough to be considered afterhours.
Before I can press the button, a voice scares the shit out of me from behind my shoulder.
“Can I help you?”
I turn around to find a man only a little shorter than me, but as wide as two of me. His arms are huge and, to be honest, his head looks too small compared to the rest of him. His hair is gelled back, and he stinks of smoke, which is unsurprising given the cigarette in his mouth. He’s also wearing a police uniform.
“Hey, I’m here to meet with Sheriff …” I immediately have a blank on what the sheriff’s name is. Why am I picturing Sylvester Stallone when he looks nothing like him?
“Sheriff Green?” the man supplies, and I glance at his name badge as I nod, reading Deputy Randall Smith. “He’s busy.”
“Oh, he told me to come here at seven.” I pull my phone out to check the time and see I’m now officially late.
“Why’d he want you to meet him?”
“I
have to give a statement about some guy attacking me last night.”
Understanding settles in the man’s eyes, but there is also something else. Something that has me immediately uncomfortable.
“I can take that statement. No need to bother the sheriff. He’s far too busy for something so minor.”
I’m taken aback by his comments, purely because: when did being held at knifepoint become a minor incident? But I should be grateful that I don’t have to be around Sheriff Green, right? This is a good thing.
“Okay.” I step back and let Deputy Smith open the door for us. He drops the cigarette outside the door, stepping on it before he enters the area. “So, Sheriff Green isn’t here?”
“He’s not available to you, no.” The deputy’s words are sharp and definitely with an undertone of malice. “He’s taken.”
“Taken?” Even though I wasn’t asking for his relationship status, I have to wonder if Love was misinforming me. Is the sheriff a cheater?
I again recall the kid stuff in his house. Does he have a family? Am I a homewrecker? If so, why would Love think the sheriff could like me? Could get me to stay in Midsummer?
“Yeah, by me.” Smith narrows his beady eyes on me as he crosses his arms over his chest. It’s almost comical how ridiculous he looks. Not only is his head seemingly too small for his body, but his huge biceps mean his arms can barely cross his wide chest. I immediately think of Popeye, just changing the huge forearms to biceps. I wonder if Deputy Smith has a pipe he uses sometimes.
“Are you smiling?” he growls, now looking affronted as well as angry.
“Sorry, I was just thinking about how much I’m craving some spinach. How about you?”
I clearly completely throw him with my comment, but he doesn’t get to answer me since Green walks into the room. He also looks annoyed, and I wonder how safe it is for me to be pissing off every officer in this place.
“You’re late,” he growls.
I bristle at the comment. I’m often late to appointments, but I was early this time. “Actually, your partner here said he’d take my statement instead.”
Smith nods. “I can do this one, Rocky. You don’t need to worry yourself.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re supposed to be at Cool Sip. I’ve got this.” He then ignores Smith as he waves me over. “Mr. Sherwood.”
Sensing the annoyance between both men and feeling for a second like a kid torn between his divorced parents, I follow Green into another room, one I discover is his office, while I feel Smith’s hot glare on me the entire time.
I listen to the ominous closing of the door that traps me with Green.
“Sit down,” he directs as he moves behind his desk.
“I didn’t mean to get between you and your boyfriend,” I murmur, sitting down in the hard seat across from his desk, a desk that is weirdly clean. I assumed most police officers had desks full of files and loose papers. I suppose TV and movies have given me that perception. It’s an easy visual to look overworked, I guess.
“What?” Green narrows his eyes on me. “Why would you say that?”
“Because he told me you guys were together.” I give a nonchalant shrug, which is cut short by Green’s burst of laughter.
“He was obviously joking. Randy and I are not together. Never have been and never will be.”
It’s clear Green is being truthful, but I also didn’t imagine the jealousy coming from Smith. Maybe there is some unrequited love there.
“You smell like him.” I don’t mean to say that aloud. Why the hell am I saying it anyway? I don’t care whether Green and Smith are together or not. It’s none of my business.
“You mean the smoke?” Green shakes his head in disgust. “We all smell like him in here, even though he’s not allowed to smoke in the office. He reeks of it, so it soaks into everything. I usually keep the windows open in here during the day just to air the place out.”
I nod, accepting this, while Green opens a drawer and rummages through it.
I take this chance to glance thoroughly around his office. While there aren’t any windows offering views out to the street, there is a large window that gives the view of the office area that I just walked through. I still feel the heated glare on the back of my neck, but a peek over my shoulder proves that Deputy Smith has already left. In the corner of Green’s office is a TV set up on the wall and against the window is a worn, comfy-looking leather couch that has a folded-up blanket and a pillow at one end. Does the sheriff sleep here sometimes?
I’m then distracted by the smell of fried goodness hitting my nostrils and am surprised I don’t break my neck given how quickly I turn my attention back to Sheriff Green.
He’s placed two takeout containers on his desk, chopsticks scattering over the surface, which he pulls from a cooler bag.
“You hungry?”
My stomach answers for me.
I had planned to have at least a snack before I came here, in case this ran late, but since I was so wrapped up in my video editing, I lost track of time.
My fingers itch to take a peek at my phone and check the view count on the video that I posted before coming here, even though it’s barely been up half an hour. I usually get some pretty good view counts and comments on the stuff I put up, but not that quickly.
“What’s in there? It smells fantastic.”
He opens the lids, and my curiosity gets the better of me. I glance down at the contents of one to find a honey soy chicken stir-fry with what looks like cashew nuts littered throughout.
Okay, how the hell did he know one of my favorite dishes?
“You sure?” I eye the box that he has closer to him, wondering if he has the same inside or something different.
“I can’t eat all this on my own,” he points out.
I’m torn between sitting here longer with the potential for things to get awkward or hostile again, or just hoping for the best and enjoy eating the food in front of me, which has already seduced my nose and made definite promises to my stomach.
“Thank you,” I finally say, deciding if things get weird, I’ll just eat quickly.
After one bite, though, things are guaranteed to get weird from my pornographic moans of appreciation.
Sheriff Green hides his smile behind shoveling what looks like a teriyaki beef stir-fry, and my mouth gets ahead of my brain as I begin speaking.
“Can I try some of that?” I bite my lips to stop myself from taking back my request. I might as well commit to it now.
What I don’t expect is for Sheriff Green to not only agree but to hold out a small mouthful with his chopsticks and lean over his desk to make the offering of food.
It feels intimate to open my mouth to him in this way and for him to feed me, but I soon forget all about that when I taste the tender beef in my mouth, along with the juices and vegetables of carrot, spring onion, ginger, as well as a few bean sprouts to finish off the cuisine masterpiece. All I need is some rice, and I would be in heaven.
“There is a Japanese restaurant one town over that serves some of the best food in the state. I rarely get the chance to head down there, but I know the owner. His mother lives on my street. I make sure to help out whenever I can. I check in, I take her bins out each week, and make sure her gutters and garden are fine. Yuuto shows me his gratitude by making sure I’m well-fed from his restaurant whenever he comes down to visit. I asked if he wouldn’t mind making a little extra tonight.”
“I thought I orgasmed hard last night, but I think I might come just from tasting this food,” I admit, not sure where my lack of mouth filter has gone.
I redden in embarrassment. Thankfully, though, Sheriff Green’s booming laughter dissipates any lingering humiliation.
I can just pretend I was making that up.
“I’m glad you like it. It’s my favorite.”
I nod, digging back into my own food and settling back into the hard chair.
“So, Mr. Sherwood, what brings you to my town?”
I wonder how he knows my name. Hearing him call me it earlier was strange enough. Then again, he’s a sheriff; of course he knows my name. Likely already did a background check on me, too.
“First of all, please call me Conner. I won’t answer to the other.” I shiver as a memory of my past hits me. “Secondly, is it at all weird that you’re asking me that now? I mean, we’ve fucked. This feels sort of redundant.”
“We’re just sharing a meal, Conner.” Sheriff Green’s rumbly voice gives me the good kind of shivers, as well as having my dick basically standing up at attention. Fortunately, the desk hides my reaction from him.
Back in Chicago, I was getting old of the scene of meaningless sex. In fact, a handful of times, I had to put some serious effort just to get hard because I lost the mood too quickly. But, for some reason, maybe the fresh air, maybe the hot sheriff in front of me in uniform, my dick is having zero issues here. I’m not sure if I should be relieved or concerned.
Shaking my head and swallowing my mouthful of food, I force myself to get back on track. “Right, and a fantastic meal at that. I think I’ll need the name of this restaurant before I leave.” I smile, even though the only response he gives me is a frown. “So, your name is truly Rocky?”
“Yes,” he quickly snaps, and I bet he must have gotten some shit growing up with that name.
It’s on my own tip of my tongue to ask if he has any siblings and if their names are paper and scissors, but I restrain myself.
“Rocky to my friends, and Sheriff Green to everyone else.”
I nod, taking the hint that I will be calling him Sheriff Green.
“In my head last night, I just called you Handsome. And then, after what happened, I changed it to Asshole.”
Green has the decency to look embarrassed. “Sorry about how I acted last night. It wasn’t my finest hour.”
“Well, I don’t know about that. It was more likely not your finest fifteen minutes. The first part was very fine.”
I want to smack my head given how flirty I sound, but it’s worth it when Green bursts into laughter again. Wow, that growly, deep laugh sends shivers all over my body. What a sexy laugh. I never knew a laugh could be sexy before.
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