Page 61

In fact, I know he likes Bobbie Jo.

“What?” he hedges when neither of us says anything.

“Ya need to pay attention to more of your citizens, Dodger. Especially the ones ya work with,” Fallon conveys simply. “Bowen don’t complain. He silently suffers.” Dodger’s brows furrow, and that’s when Fallon salutes us. “See y’all around. Don’t forget to invite me to the weddin’.”

She takes off before I can agree or promise anything, which I’m grateful for. The last thing I need to do is scare off Dodger so soon with talks of marriage and kids.

“What is she talkin’ about?” he presses, watching her walk away.

“I already told ya.” I slap his chest lightly. “You just didn’t wanna listen.”

“Bobbie Jo⁠—”

“Hates men and ya’ll are scared of her. Yeah, ya told me.”

“I’m not scared of her.”

“Ya avoid her, don’t you?”

“Yeah, but⁠—”

“I’d like to go back to talkin’ about those handcuffs and the picnic, please.”

I bat my eyes innocently, but Dodger can see right through that.

His hazel eyes glisten, but he still holds his serious cop demeanor. “I was still waitin’ on that kiss.”

“Dodger, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were lookin’ to start rumors.”

“Then, ya don’t know better, because I am.”

In any other scenario, that would be cringeworthy. However, in this one, I’d happily be linked to Dodger in any one of them that involves us being together.

I’ve wanted him—this—for so long that I’d happily have my name on everyone’s lips with his at my side.

Continuing what I did before Fallon interrupted us, I rise onto my tiptoes and plant a kiss on him that I know will make him want to skip our picnic.

Tongue, a soft little moan, and Dodger is practically grabbing my ass to pull me closer into him.

He kisses me back without a second thought.

He kisses me like he wants forever.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is exactly what I wanted all along.

EPILOGUE

DODGER

Eight months later…

I bought out every flower Adeline had in her small online flower shop and had them placed in the empty lease I got for her.

It’s between Layla’s bakery—which I don’t know was a good or bad idea or if she’d ever get anything done—and the deli—which I don’t know is a good idea for me because I’d blow a whole paycheck on pasta salads and meat.

Adeline was supposed to meet me here an hour ago, but it’s my fault she’s late. She’s been stressed out about this order, and I’ve put her behind, but she’ll come.

She has to come.