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His gaze landed on the pastry she’d pushed to the edge of her desk. “You gonna eat that?”
“No. You’re welcome to it.” She hoped it didn’t have a laxative in it.
“Thanks.” He picked it up. “See ya in the morning.” As he walked out, he took a big bite of the pastry. “Urgh.” He spit the bite into his hand, then marched back to her desk, dropped the pastry back onto the bag, and glared at her.
“What? There’s something wrong with it?” She knew it!
“Yeah, it’s filled with mayonnaise.”
She couldn’t help it, she burst into laughter. Good one, Tristan.
“Not funny,” her deputy said.
Oh, it was. It really was.
“How do you think Melissa’s going to react to your idea?” Skye asked Tristan as they drove to the girl’s house.
“Your guess is as good as mine, but she probably won’t like it. What do you think of me giving her a choice between working for Miss Bauman or sending her to juvie?”
“You would do that?”
“No, but she doesn’t need to know that.”
“Do we need to talk to her mother first?” She tried not to find things sexy about him, such as the way he drove with one hand on the steering wheel and his other one resting on the console, his fingers tapping to a beat only he could hear. She tried not to imagine that hand on her, but she had an excellent memory, and those long fingers of his had expertly toyed with her in the most magical of ways.
“I talked to her mother yesterday. She’s worried about her daughter and said she’ll support whatever I think is best for Melissa.”
“Sorry, what?”
“Where’s your mind, Sheriff?” He glanced at her and smirked as if he knew exactly where her mind had wandered off to.
On your fingers and how much I want them on me again. “My mind is right here.” Well, it wasn’t. It was stuck on their night together. Why couldn’t she put that time with him right where it belonged? A one-time thing, never to be repeated. No matter how much she wanted a repeat.
“Thanks for coming with me,” he said, interrupting her thoughts of him, of them together, again. “Even if it cost me a pastry I really wanted.”
She barely held in a snort and almost laughed at his frustrated expression. “You’re welcome.” He was dying for her to call him out for his joke. Not going to happen. She wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of telling him how funny she’d found it.
“So, you liked my pastry?”
“It was delicious.” His expression was priceless. She was immensely enjoying this and had to turn her face to the window so he wouldn’t see her grin. Also, she was definitely going to retaliate, as soon as she thought of the perfect practical joke.
“Here we are.” He stopped in front of a small cottage.
Although the house could use a coat of paint, the yard was well maintained. “I don’t think I’ve ever met the family.”
“There are three children. Melissa’s fifteen and the oldest. Mary Beth Compton is a single mother, working two jobs to support her family.”
“Okay. Let’s do this.”
Chapter Nine
Tristan walked to the door next to Skye. He was puzzled. She couldn’t possibly have thought a mayonnaise-filled pastry was delicious. He’d been fully prepared to get his ears blistered for his joke. Had looked forward to it. He was annoyed that she’d taken his fun away.
The front door opened before they reached it, and Mary Beth walked out. “Melissa should be home in a few minutes, Chief.”
Every resident of Marsville called him Chief. He wasn’t sure anyone even remembered his name. “Mary Beth, this is Sheriff Morgan. Sheriff, Mary Beth Compton.”
“Pleased to meet you, Ms. Compton,” Skye said. “I do wish it was for a better reason.”
