He hadn't seen me yet. I had options—duck behind the chip display, maybe hide in the bathroom until?—
His head turned, gaze finding mine through the glass like he had radar for my presence. That slow, dangerous smile spread across his face.
So much for avoiding him.
The bell chimed as he entered, and Kevin behind the counter perked up from his phone with the kind of interest that said the whole town would know about this encounter by morning. Pike Creek's gossip network was more efficient than the internet.
"Deputy Jenkins." Wolf's voice wrapped around my name like velvet. "Fancy meeting you here."
"It's a small town, McCarthy. We've established this."
"Wolf," he corrected automatically, moving closer. "And you're off duty."
"Observant."
"You look different out of uniform." His gaze traveled down, taking in my casual clothes with an appreciation that made my skin flush. "Good different."
I turned back to the freezer, needing the cold air on my heated face. "Don't you have somewhere to be? A bar to terrorize? Other deputies to harass?"
"Only interested in harassing one deputy." He reached past me for a bottle of water from the cooler, his body bracketing mine for a moment. Not touching, but close enough that warmth radiated from him. "Besides, you can't harass the willing."
"I'm not willing."
"Liar."
The word was soft, amused, and absolutely true. I grabbed the cookie dough ice cream at random and spun away from him, needing space.
"Rough night?" He nodded at my ice cream selection.
"It was fine until about two minutes ago."
"Ouch." He pressed a hand to his chest in mock hurt. "Here I thought we were friends."
"We're not friends."
"No," he agreed, that intensity from Buck's returning to his expression. "We're definitely not friends."
The weight of everything unspoken hung between us. Two weeks of this dance, this careful avoidance that wasn't avoiding anything, just delaying the inevitable. My phone buzzed in my pocket—probably Dad wondering why I wasn't home yet. Sheriff Bill Jenkins had been extra watchful lately, like he sensed something shifting in my behavior.
"I should go." I moved toward the counter, but Wolf stepped into my path.
"Quinn."
Just my name, but the way he said it made me stop. Made me meet his gaze even though I knew it was dangerous.
"This is killing us both," he said quietly.
"I know."
"Then stop fighting it."
"I can't." The admission came out barely above a whisper. "My father?—"
"Isn't here." He moved closer, close enough that I had to tilt my head back to maintain eye contact. "It's just you and me and Kevin, who's pretending not to watch while definitely watching."
A glance confirmed Kevin was indeed staring while trying to look busy rearranging cigarette packs.
"My reputation?—"
