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“Did you just say you’re like my parole officer?” I ask.
“I did,” he answers.
“Then I’m not taking you to the pancake dinner. No parolee would take their PO to dinner.” My family looks at me like I’m insane.
“Yes, you are.” His eyes narrow at me. I meet his glare with one of my own. “And you’ll enjoy it.”
“Make. Me.” We’re officially in a stare-off.
“I can, but you won’t sit for a week,” he snarls back.
“Quick, someone get a bucket of ice water before clothes start coming off,” Reed says. A blush races up Owen’s face. I’m sure it’s a match to the one on mine. I guess we both forgot where we were for a minute.
“Okay, let’s just pass the food and try to pick something else to talk about. Like the weather,” Mom says.
Everyone laughs as the noise of dishes being passed drowns out my embarrassment. Conversation amps up as we both turn back to the table. Dad asks Owen about something involving the county which gives me a chance to take a quick glance at him. His color seems to have returned to normal. There’s a sharp kick to my shin.
“What?” I mouth at Brontë. She just grins at me, cutting her eyes between us. “Shut up,” I mouth.
Sisters. I love them. They’re great. Sisterhood and all that shit. Blah, blah, blah. I’m thinking of axe-murdering the youngest one. Possibly the other one just for good measure. It would be easier than continuing to explain to them that nothing is going to happen between the hotter-than-Hades deputy and plain, old me.
* * *
OWEN
That conniving vixen ambushed me. I don’t really mind. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a home cooked meal. Elise is no slouch in the kitchen. I liked both of her parents, even if I did manage to embarrass myself in front of them. At least the term “blow job” wasn’t thrown out this time. No reason to introduce her dad to the hard-on I get every time his daughter opens her mouth.
The next night, I have to work, so I can’t help with the remaining flyers. I see Eliot around town though while I’m on patrol. My sightings are usually acknowledged with a middle finger. That woman really does need to be laid over my legs for a good spanking. No, don’t picture that or I’ll never get my jeans on.
Tonight is finally the night of the pancake dinner, except around here it’s called supper. Either way, I’m having an anxiety attack as I dig through my closet. As soon as I got off work, I rushed home. I’ve showered, shaved, and deodorized. My hair is neatly combed. I’ve slapped on aftershave I think she’ll like. Now if I can just find a shirt.
I’m looking for pretty much anything in my closet that’s not khaki. Don’t get me wrong; I love being a sheriff’s deputy. The only thing that varies from winter to summer is the cowboy hat I was unofficially told to get. The chief said it sets us apart in the community. How, when you live in a town full of cowboy hats? I don’t question it; I just wear the hat.
Not tonight though. I don’t know about Eliot, but this is as close to a date as I’ve gotten with her. It’s important I look good. I pull a blue paisley button-down out of the back of the closet. It still has the tags on it from Christmas. My mom thought I needed a new wardrobe to blend in better with the locals. Whatever. It’ll work.
I bought a new pair of dark jeans for tonight. My ass has a poetic standard to live up to now. Besides, Eliot staring at my ass isn’t all bad.
I have just enough time to check myself in the mirror before I need to leave for Eliot’s house. Not too bad. I offered to drive us, but she suggested we walk. I guess they’re expecting a record crowd and parking is at a premium.
Turns out, she lives only two blocks from me. I’m knocking on her door before I know it. I take a steadying breath right before the door swings open. It’s knocked right out of my lungs at the sight of her. She’s stunning. Her hair is long and curled with just the front pulled back in a clip. She’s in a dress that skims her thighs right above her knees. I’m rendered speechless.
“I like your shirt,” she says.
“Yeah?” I sound like an idiot.
“Yeah, it’s nice.”
“Thanks. You look nice too.” And I just proved Iaman idiot. “I mean, you look amazing. Are you ready?”
“Almost. Come in while I finish.”
“I can’t imagine how you could need any more.” She rewards me with a smile. She turns and I follow her inside.
“I’ll just be a second,” she says as she heads down a hallway. I take a good look around her small home. It’s tidy just like I would expect it to be. I imagine everything I don’t see behind the cabinet doors is perfectly organized. Eliot wouldn’t put up with anything less. I make a mental note to do a better job in my own home.
“Do you cook?” I ask. Based on the line of canisters on her kitchen counter, I would guess so.
“Only if I want to eat,” she answers, walking back into the room. She’s pulled on a pair of boots. Shame to hide all that glorious leg.
