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I just knew he’d go straight to my hips, too.
Oh, god.
I wanted him more than I could ever imagine wanting a person.
I’d done nothing but think about him non-stop since I’d seen him in a prison all those many months ago.
Then he’d moved back home, and all I heard was ‘Wake, Wake, Wake.’
I saw him around town. I saw him running. I saw him riding his motorcycle.
And holy God, how the hell could he get hotter just by being on the back of a bike?
I didn’t know, but the man sure as hell did.
In the time that he’d been out of prison, and his friends had trickled into town, he’d formed a motorcycle club full of felons just like him.
The Gator Bait MC.
In the short time that they’d been in Accident, Florida with permanence, they’d formed a very tight bond with the community.
Though, that had a lot to do with the failure of a sheriff we had.
The town of Accident loved that the lawlessness was coming to an end upon their appearance.
Though it was never truly said blatantly in writing, Gator Bait MC was patrolling the town, making it safe, when Sheriff Graydon couldn’t be bothered.
Word was spreading like wildfire, too.
It wouldn’t be long until Graydon was gone.
Which was good, because I thought he was a piece of shit.
Especially after what I’d learned today from my research.
The teacher that had been making Pedro uncomfortable at school happened to be Graydon’s sister.
Wasn’t that just convenient?
“Why do you want anything to do with me?” I finally asked the smirking man.
God, did I mention he was sexy?
He was wearing a pair of running shorts, a white T-shirt that was practically see-through with sweat, a plain black ball cap, and a pair of tennis shoes.
Nothing special, yet he made my nether region practically sing for him.
“You’re the one that dragged me into your life,” he said. “Who am I to tell my protégé that I can’t have anything to do with them?”
“I’m not your protégé,” I hissed.
His brows rose. “Last night would say differently.”
I opened and closed my mouth, my voice freezing halfway out of my throat, as I realized that he knew everything.
“We should probably get married,” he teased. “Then I couldn’t incriminate you in the court of law.”
I blinked.
“You know, the spousal law? A person has the privilege to refuse to disclose and to prevent any other person from disclosing confidential communication made to the person’s spouse while they were married. This privilege survives termination of the marriage.” He recited the words as if he was saying them straight from a textbook.
I shook my head as if that would help clear it of the confusion.
It didn’t work.
“We can’t get married,” I told him bluntly. “I wouldn’t survive that marriage.”
His eyes lit with an inner fire that I had a feeling didn’t spell out good things for me.
Luckily, just before he could say anything more, a car pulled up behind us, momentarily distracting him.
While he studied whoever had broken into our strange trance, I studied him.
Today, the scruff on his face was less beard, more five o’clock shadow.
I could even make a little indent in his chin. What my friend from high school used to call the ‘do me, daddy’ dimple.
Wake definitely worked that dimple well.
And his hair, which had been long while in prison, was surprisingly non-existent under that hat of his.
And my god.
That hat.
I’d never been one to really like a guy in a ball cap, but Wake wore that cap so well that I didn’t even care that I could barely see his eyes. Or maybe it was the fact that he could see my eyes, but I couldn’t see his.
The hiding of his eyes kind of made him more sinister looking, too.
If I saw him walking on the side of the road, I most certainly wouldn’t go anywhere near him. Even if he was wearing that smile he was currently wearing.
The problem with Wake was that he was understandable. He was the type of villain that literally scared the absolute shit out of you, because you knew that under the right circumstances, you could end up exactly like him.
Which, sadly, was the case for me.
I’d done the exact same thing as Wake, and now I was a murderer just like him.
Did I know that I did wrong? Hell yes.
Did I regret that? Hell no.
Did I plan on changing a thing? Also, no.
I’d read a book once that had a quote in it that really resonated with me over the last few years. “The scariest types of monsters are the ones that are human and relatable.”
“Sheriff Graydon,” Wake drawled, voice like honey. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
I turned slowly, my heart pounding a mile a minute, as I stared at the sheriff with wild eyes.
What was he doing here? Was he here for me? Holy shit, it hadn’t even been twenty-four hours yet!
