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“Ready?” he asks. He looks nervous. I stand on tip toe and kiss the tip of his chin, which is the only part I can reach.
“Yup,” I have azaleas in my hair. They look nice against the blue. My pink dress is new. I picked it out at Waterville mall.
The town hall is full to the brim and we’ve been saved seats in the front row with Sonya and Diesel’s family from Poughkeepsie. Forrest is grumpy and keeps baring his four teeth at me. Diesel is introduced by his deputy Billy and Diesel, ever the humble family man, blushes bright red.
“My community does me great honor today not by appreciating my efforts as its Sheriff but by allowing me the immense privilege to be part of it. I was, like many of you, wandering aimlessly trying to find a purpose, a family,” he nods towards his grinning father, “and I found it all and much more in Shifter Grove.
“As far as the security of the Blood Moon ritual is concerned you must thank newly deputized David Meyer for his contribution was invaluable. Without him we would have been fumbling in the dark, our young ones at risk.”
I beam up at David who’s trying hard not to grin from ear to ear. Diesel takes a seat and the band starts to play. It’s my jam so I grab David’s hand and force him on the dancefloor. He’s sleek and graceful as a jungle cat but in his own limbs he’s as awkward and gangling as a man with three legs. But I love him, the big lug.
David tires soon. He growls and pulls me off the dancefloor. He pulls me out the door but I grab a bottle of Champagne before we go. We’re in the back of his truck lying on blankets as we stare up at the evening sky, the stars are just twinkling in to existence and the breeze is balmy.
“You remind me a bit of her,” he says suddenly.
“Who?” I ask but I have a sneaky suspicion I know.
“My mom,” he says. “She was short as well. She also had a pug nose,” he pinches my nose between two fingers. “It’s what I love about you the most.”
That’s huge. Even my mother doesn’t like my pug nose. This one is definitely a keeper.
“I like your scars,” I say. “Call me crazy but I’ve always had a thing for men with scars.”
“I guess it worked out for the best then,” he grins and kisses the tip of my nose.
“It does,” I say and kiss the edge of his scar on his cheek.
He’s damaged, and a bit feral; but he’s all mine and I love it.
The End.
