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“Tonight isn’t good.” My heart seizes in my chest at her refusal. “I’ve had a bad day, and I need time to think.” She bites that bottom lip again and I shake my head, trying to keep control of my dumbass mouth.
Pulling my head out of my ass, I sigh. “I’m sorry you had a tough day.” That’s better. At least I sound like a reasonable human being. “Maybe we can do it another time.” Like every day for the rest of our lives. “I’ll be in touch. I lean down and place a soft kiss on her stunned lips before rushing off like the hounds of hell are nipping at my heels. I need time to come up with a plan B that doesn’t get me thrown into my own jail.
Later that night, I lie awake and stare at the ceiling, debating my options. Option one: I forget about my curvy little firecracker and walk away. Option two: I find a way to make the stubborn redhead fall head over heels in love with me. Since there’s no way I can walk away now, I’ll just have to run with option two.
I reach under the covers and wrap my hand around my throbbing erection. Maybe jacking off will relieve some of the pressure building in my main brain, and then I can start acting like a man with more than two brain cells to rub together.
CHAPTERTHREE
JULES
"Before you shoot the messenger," Mariah says, rushing into the stockroom where I'm trying to figure out how we have eight thousand boxes of alcohol swabs but no Band-Aids. "I told him you were busy."
I spin around to face her so fast I knock an entire row of nitrile gloves off a shelf. "He's back?"
She bobs her head in an excited nod, her expression caught between a smile of delight and a grimace of sympathy. "I tried to kick him out, but he refused to go."
"He can't just refuse to go," I mutter, my blood pressure spiking.
"He's the sheriff."
I huff out a breath and stomp from the stockroom, ready to go to war. Five minutes ago, I felt bad for turning him down two nights in a row. I didn't even have a good excuse yesterday. It was just a long day, and our new patient really pulled at my heartstrings. I wanted to go home and cry alone. But then I got home and felt… lonely. I regretted turning Sheriff Armstrong down.
The crazy man cannot keep harassing me every day though! I have things to do. Important things! Besides, he's the sheriff. He should have important things to do, too. Surely, even Silver Spoon Falls has some sort of crime to fight?
I stomp out into the waiting room, ready to give him a tongue lashing. And then I catch sight of him leaning against the wall in his uniform, his muscular arms crossed over his broad chest, his booted feet planted shoulder-width apart. His dark hair is messy, his eyes crawling all over the room like he expects an ambush at any second from the three moms eyeing him in appreciation.
It's hard not to appreciate the way he looks in that uniform. He's freaking gorgeous.
"Sheriff Armstrong," I say, not sure if I'm going to rescue him yet or let them fight over him.
His head snaps up, those dark eyes locking on my face.
As soon as they do, my core heats to the nth degree.
"Jules," he says, relief coloring his tone. "Finally."
"Hasn't anyone told you that stalking is illegal?" I ask, planting my hands on my hips.
"Is it?" His lips twitch.
The mothers in the waiting room look between us like they're watching a tennis match.
"I'm certain it is," I say.
"Good to know," he murmurs, taking a step toward me. "I'll make sure to pass that on to my deputies. Where's Tate?"
"Busy. Like you should be."
"Funny you should mention it," he growls, taking another step toward me. "I happen to be quite busy today."
"Doing what?"
"Important stakeout," he says. "Can you move slightly to the left, please?"
Without thinking, I immediately move to the left.
He sails right past me into the patient area, leaving me gaping after him. I stand there with my mouth hanging open for a full five count before my brain finally catches up and I realize he just tricked me into letting him deeper into the office.
