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“What do you think, Becca?” I asked, looking back at my butt in the mirror as I walked out of the fitting room. “Are these jeans too tight on my ass?”
“They look good from where I’m standing,” a deep voice that definitely did not belong to Becca answered. “Really good, as a matter of fact.”
I felt my face flush as I turned to see the cute deputy standing at the front counter. “Thanks,” I squeaked, wishing the floor would open up and swallow me right then and there. I wasn’t sure whether I should keep standing there like an idiot while I waited for Becca to come out of the neighboring dressing room or run back into mine and pretend like this whole embarrassing moment hadn’t just happened.
“Nice boots, too.”
I looked down.Oh, God.What did he just say?Nice…oh,boots. Right. Not boobs.Okay.Lord,please don’t let me say or do anything stupid right now.
“Thanks,” I repeated, because apparently that was the only word my brain was capable of producing at the moment. “Where is your friend?”
He cocked his head to the side and looked over at the shop owner behind the counter.
Nope. Wrong friend. Wrong question. Why had I even asked?Friend? What if he and the sheriff weren’t actually even friends?
“You mean the sheriff?” the hot deputy asked. “Prescott is around here somewhere.” He shrugged. “His loss.” He shot me a thousand-watt grin and closed the distance between us with just a few long strides. “I don’t think I had a chance to properly introduce myself earlier at the ranch. My name is Cole Wright, and I’m the deputy here in Bliss. The sheriff is Prescott Lane.”
He held out his hand and I looked at it blankly for a moment before my brain kicked in and remembered how to function. “I’m Daisy Lynn, and my friend’s name is Becca. Pleasure to meet you, dep-uh, Cole.” Was I supposed to call him Deputy? Mister? Mister Deputy Cole Wright? But if I was breaking some kind of police officer etiquette, he didn’t seem to mind.
He didn’t seem to mind at all, actually. I was pretty sure he was holding onto my hand for way longer than a normal handshake would require. Not that I wasn’t one hundred thousand percent okay with that, though. He could hold my hand—or whatever else he wanted to hold—for as long as he wanted.
“That’s a pretty name, Daisy Lynn. How do you and your friend know Janessa Thoreson?” he asked, still holding my hand.
My brain threatened to short-circuit again after that little compliment.He likes my name.He thinks I’m pretty—well, he thinks my name is pretty. But oh, God. He’d asked me something else, too. What was it?Focus.Breathe.Keep it together. Oh, right. Janessa. “We lived in the dorms together in college,” I said, thanking my lucky stars that my voice actually sounded mostly normal, like I wasn’t totally freaking out on the inside. Thank God for small favors and halfway answered prayers, at least.
“I figured it had to be something like that. I knew you weren’t from around here, anyway. Will you ladies be staying in town for very long?”
I blinked, shook my head, then shrugged as I realized he wasn’t just asking me typical police questions. Or if he was, it didn’t feel typical. It felt like… flirting. “A few days, I think? Maybe longer?”
My voice was getting higher with every syllable, and I finally had to pull my hand away to keep from having an actual medical emergency right there in the middle of the western wear bait and tackle shop.
“You should let me show you around while you’re here,” he said, smiling and giving me another one of those up-and-down looks. “And maybe… take you to dinner?”
“Yes,” I said, the answer slipping out before I’d evenpretendedto think about it. “I mean—” I swallowed hard and then jumped as the bell above the door jingled loudly.
And then the other half of my fantasy walked in.
“Thought I’d find you here.” The sheriff’s loud, deep voice boomed through the small store as he scowled at his deputy. He turned his head to look at me and his scowl softened a little. “Nice to see you again, young lady.”
Young lady?
I wasn’t sure if I should be flattered or insulted. Twenty-two isn’tthatyoung. And he wasn’tthatold. Late thirties, maybe? Maybe forty. Definitely a daddy type, which was super hot.
Okay, so maybe it was also kind of hot when he called meyoung lady. I was going to take it as a compliment, regardless.
“Nice to see you, too,” I said.
Cole cleared his throat and I felt my face flush again, but he didn’t look annoyed. His eyes sparkled and the corners of his mouth turned up as he spoke. “I think you were just in the middle of accepting my dinner invitation.”
I nodded. “Yes,” I repeated. “That, um… that sounds nice.”
“Tonight?” he asked. “Seven o’clock? I’ll pick you up.”
I nodded again. “Perfect.”
Because it really was just… perfect. How often does a girl’s literal fantasy come to life and then ask her out on a date? Not often enough. Not ever.
Not until now, anyway.
