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He smiles. A breathless smile.Oh, don’t you dare smile like that. “That was a close one.”
I can smell him. And it smells great. Goodness gracious, that aftershave must be some kind of spell because I can’t seem to get enough.
“You okay?” Rory asks, his voice crinkling with a preciousness, an intimacy that makes my stomach flip.
Why hasn’t he put me down? Shouldn’t he put me down?!
I remain like a deer in headlights for a moment too long before smacking him on his very broad chest and leaping out of his arms. “What are youdoinghere?”
“Nice to see you too.”
I gape at him. “You almost killed me by sneaking up on me like that.”
“Yeah, and the bad joke probably didn’t help,” he says with a sigh. “Sorry, I’m turning into my dad.”
I ball my hands into fists and try to ease my breathing. The adrenaline is still pulsing from my near-death experience. “How can I help you, Sheriff McEvoy?”
“Oof.” He clutches at his heart. “I thought we were on a first name basis, Constance.”
A shiver runs down my spine at that. “I was trying to be respectful, but seeing as you insist on being brutish about it.”
I stalk over to my clogs and slide them on.
“Brutish?Okay, SAT word.”
“Please, that’s barely an SAT word,” I grumble, then smooth out the front of my blouse.
Rory is still smiling at me, almost as if I’m a fish at the aquarium. He’s taken to the othering gaze of the rest of Horace, I see.
“Rory, can Ihelpyou?” I reiterate, crossing my arms over my chest.
He clears his throat and shakes his head, his dark brown locks settling a bit out of place. “Um, yes, you can. First of all, I’m sorry for scaring you. I didn’t mean to do that.”
Well, that’s rather polite. “It’s all right.”
“And second of all, you really need to look into standard safety practices. That could have been an OSHA violation waiting to happen.”
I stare at him.
He stares back.
“Oh, am I supposed to laugh?” I ask.
“Itwasa joke, but I should have learned by now this is a tough crowd,” Rory says. “Where’s yourfunny bone, Constance? Get it? Because you work with?—”
“Yeah, I got it, haha.” Let me spare him. “Okay, if all you came to do is make jokes at my expense, I think you are free to go, so?—”
“No, that’s not why I’m here,” he says, straightening up, now taking on the stature of sheriff, which suits him very well. Some people need the uniform to indicate their dignity, but I think Rory would possess it even if he wore a paper bag.
I take a few steps toward him. “Are you here to return my bones?”
“I’m afraid not.”
“Hm. Sad.”
Rory bites back on a laugh. “I’d be happy to help you with the banner, if you’d like.”
I glance back at the banner that now cascades from one side of the entry hall, a waterfall of plastic.
