Page 27 of Rogue Wave

“Do not feed her that,” Hank commanded, but I chose to ignore him.

I slipped her the other half of my meatball I hadn’t finished.

“Hazel.” Hank’s voice was clearly a warning…one that I clearly didn’t care to follow.

“She saved your life today, Hank!” I shot back. “She deserves all the meatballs, but then I wouldn’t get any, so I’m just giving her that one for being a hero. Maybe instead of chiding me for rewarding her, you should be giving her extra love for saving your life. Isn’t that right, pretty girl?”

I leaned down and rubbed behind her ears as I cooed and sweet-talked to her, after which she promptly gave me kisses all over my face.

I didn’t miss his low rumbles of annoyance, but I chose to ignore them in favor of staring at him instead. Hank had on a dark-green and black flannel shirt that was unbuttoned all the way with just a tight white T-shirt underneath. His sheriff’s badge rested next to the belt loop of his jeans. Ones that looked very worn and very soft and fit him like a glove.

You could still see the bruises on his face from earlier, the purple and yellow colors really starting to show, but they didn’t make his face any less attractive.

What I wouldn’t give to run my hands over that buttery soft denim. But he would definitely write me a ticket for assault.

He looked like the Brawny paper towel man, something I normally wasn’t really attracted to, but with Hank, I couldn’t take my eyes off him.

“How’re ya feeling?” Dougie asked Hank. “Thankfully, they didn’t mess up your pretty face too much.”

Hank rolled his eyes at Dougie’s teasing comment. “Fine. None of the cuts are deep, and the bruises will go away in a few days. I’ll be fine.”

I knew Dougie was itching to tease him some more, but our focus shifted to the car pulling down our street. With George’s and Dottie’s houses at the beginning of the street and the three of us sitting on my porch, there was no one else who should be coming down here at this time of night.

Given that we were on the far side of town, we didn’t usually get too many lost tourists either, but there had been a few people getting lost trying to find “drug beach.”

The car came to a stop at the end of the cul-de-sac, and just as the familiarity of the vehicle registered in my brain, the driver’s door opened, revealing the one person I did not want to deal with tonight.

Rourke.

I let out what sounded like a combination of a frustrated groan and a defeated exhale.

“You know this guy?” Hank asked, his voice low.

“Unfortunately,” I responded, silently chiding myself for ever dating Rourke and wishing he would just leave me alone.

My front porch light wasn’t on, but the lights inside my house were, so it wouldn’t be hard for Rourke to see me sitting on the porch.

“Hazel,” he called out and then abruptly stopped a few feet from the bottom of my steps once he realized I wasn’t alone.

I watched as he took in both men, the dog, and the food in my lap. I watched as his face transformed into the same jealous one I’d seen before. His tight, pinched mouth and clenched jaw let me know he wasn’t happy with what he saw and he planned to share those thoughts.

“You screwing two guys now instead of me?” Rourke threw his hand out and pointed up at the guys, and then turned to look directly at Hank. “This guy looks like a wannabe lumberjack who lost a boxing match, and this guy…” He switched and pointed at Dougie, doing a full scan of him and obviously seeing his prosthetic leg since he was wearing shorts. “Shit, this guy is a gimp.”

I’d never felt so enraged, which was probably why I stood up and poked the bear when I probably shouldn’t have. “Oh yeah? Well, you look like someone who lives in their mom’s basement and pays for foot-fetish pictures, so stop judging a book by its cover, dickweed.”

“The fuck did you just call me?” His voice may not have been loud, but it was filled with rage.

I felt Hank before he said a word. Hank’s fingers slid into the belt loops of my jeans and pulled me back slightly in a protective move, and then his other hand stretched in front of my stomach in a silent move to tell me he had this.

I honestly didn’t care if he did or not, because in that moment, my stomach was doing backflips with how amazing it felt to have his hands on me.

“This is private property. You need to leave,” Hank told Rourke, his commanding voice leaving no room for argument.

I saw Rourke scanning Hank, assessing the man who’d just challenged him to decide whether or not he would engage. In the blink of an eye, his mood changed from anger to clear frustration.

Annnnd he saw the badge.

Rourke was a bully, but he wasn’t dumb enough to fuck with a sheriff.