"She's like five-four, max."
"Five-six." The correction escaped before I could stop it, and both my brothers raised their eyebrows.
"Jesus, you've got it bad," Phoenix said, shaking his head. "The sheriff's daughter, Wolf? Really? Of all the women in Montana?—"
"I know." I took a long pull from my beer, the cold doing nothing to cool the heat that sparked every time her face crossed my mind. "Believe me, I fucking know."
The thing was, I'd had plenty of women. Club girls who knew the score, townies looking for a walk on the wild side, even a lawyer from Billings once who'd liked slumming it with bikers. But Quinn Jenkins? She'd looked at me with those whiskey-brown eyes full of challenge and heat, and a knot in my chest had shifted, rearranged itself around the shape of her.
"Viper know?" Tank asked, missing an easy corner pocket shot.
"Viper knows everything," I muttered. Our president had given me one of his looks yesterday—the kind that said he saw exactly what was happening and was waiting to see how spectacularly I'd fuck it up.
The door to Buck's opened, and my entire body went tight before my brain even processed who'd walked in. Quinn stood in the doorway, uniform crisp despite the late hour, hand resting on her duty belt while she scanned the room.
The bar went quiet the way it always did when law enforcement showed up. Conversations died mid-sentence, everyone suddenly fascinated by their drinks. Even old Conrad from the general store stopped mid-story about his fishing trip.
Her gaze landed on me, and that same charge from three days ago crackled between us, strong enough for Phoenix to actually whistle low under his breath.
"Evening, officers," Buck called from behind the bar, always the peacekeeper. The man had been keeping the peace between bikers, cowboys, and law enforcement for twenty years. "What can I do for Pike Creek's finest?"
"Routine check," Quinn said, but her attention never left mine. "Making sure everyone's behaving."
"We're always on our best behavior," I said, leaning against the pool table in a way that made my shirt stretch across my chest. Her gaze flickered down for a heartbeat before snapping back to my face. "Isn't that right, boys?"
Phoenix snorted into his beer. Tank muttered what sounded suspiciously like "fuck no."
Quinn moved closer, and jasmine cut through the bar's usual mix of beer and old leather. Clean and floral beneath the gunpowder of her duty belt. Whatever that perfume was, it shouldn't have been sexy on a cop, but on her, everything was sexy.
"No trouble tonight, McCarthy?"
"Wolf," I corrected, same as I had during the traffic stop, same as I would every time until she said it. "And the night's still young, Deputy. Who knows what kind of trouble might find me?"
Her jaw tightened, but heat flashed behind the professional mask. "Try to keep it legal."
"Where's the fun in that?" I said with a wink.
She should have walked away. Should have continued her "routine check" everyone in this bar knew was complete bullshit. Pike Creek had maybe one bar fight a month, and it was always between the Hendrick brothers who'd been scrapping since theywere kids. Instead, she stood there, caught in the same magnetic pull driving me insane for three days straight.
"This is the third time this week you've checked this bar," I said, quiet enough only she could hear. The noise of the bar covered our conversation, but Phoenix and Tank exchanged knowing looks anyway. "Starting to think you're stalking me, Deputy Jenkins."
Pink spread across her cheeks. "Don't flatter yourself. I'm doing my job."
I moved closer, close enough to track the rapid flutter in the hollow of her throat. Close enough that if she turned her head, her lips would brush mine. "It's okay, sweetheart. I've been watching you too."
"This is inappropriate."
"Definitely."
"You're everything my father warned me about."
"Guilty as charged."
"I should arrest you."
"For what?" I grinned, knowing it would piss her off and loving the fire sparking in response. "Inappropriate thoughts about a deputy? Because if that's illegal, I'm guilty as hell. Been thinking about you for three days straight. Wondering what you look like out of that uniform. What sounds you make when you're not trying to be professional."
A strangled noise escaped her—half frustration, half desire making my cock twitch—and she spun on her heel. "Keep the noise down."
