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“I’m not just saying it. You’re a ten, Avon. If you were staying in the Beard…”
I couldn’t finish the sentence. I could easily shoot a target at a hundred yards and deadlift more than anyone in my online training group, but I couldn’t tell her that I wanted a relationship with her. It didn’t make sense, but the thought of saying the words was too risky.
She shook the ice in her glass and then tapped it against my near-empty mug. “Another round?”
Fuck it. I’d already let enough slip, so why hold back now?
“Yeah,” I said. “But let’s have the next round at my place.”
Her eyes widened slightly and then lit with the same desire I’d been holding back for what felt like forever. She was leaving, which meant I couldn’t have her forever, but I could have her for tonight.
“Yes,” she said, her voice slightly hoarse.
I took out my wallet and put down enough cash for both drinks. Avon slid her coat on, a smile dancing on her lips as she moved to stand right in front of me, only a couple of inches separating us.
“I’ve wanted you to kiss me since the moment we met,” she said softly.
I cupped her cheek in my hand, my thumb stroking her soft skin. It had taken me all of one moment to decide that being private about my personal life didn’t compare to making her happy.
Putting my free hand on the small of her back, I closed the distance between us and lowered my mouth to hers. She slid her arms around me, the warmth of her touch and her sweet, soft scent making me hard.
She parted her lips for me immediately, my heart pounding as I kissed her, my blood pumping with arousal. She was so damn perfect, our mouths doing a dance that had become unfamiliar to me. It all came back, though, and she moaned slightly as I deepened the kiss.
People were cheering, but I drowned out the noise. This was all that mattered right now. For the first time in eleven years, it was Christmas Eve and I felt something good. Something amazing. Something that wasn’t guilt and pain and remorse.
Avon pulled away, slightly breathless as she looked up at me, her eyes dazed but her lips smiling.
“It’s ABOUT. DAMN. TIME!” Deke yelled from the other side of the bar, his hands cupped around his mouth.
Lana gave me a scathing look and I just shrugged. It wasn’t the mistletoe. It was Avon. And our night was just getting started.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Avon
Grady’s house was a neat brick ranch not far from downtown. As soon as we walked through a side door that led to the kitchen, he flipped on the lights and I took everything in.
It was clean, of course. The kitchen had white cabinets and dark granite counters, and the living room was furnished simply with a couch, a recliner, and a big-screen TV on a stand. There were no pictures on the walls. And it smelled like freshly cut wood.
“Smells nice,” I said, setting my bag down on the kitchen counter.
“I put in real hardwood floors a few months ago.” Grady opened a cabinet and took out an unopened bottle of whiskey. “That’s why it smells like wood in here.”
He opened the bottle, then went over to another cabinet and took out two shot glasses.
“I’ve got some good craft beer if you’re into that,” he said, walking over to the stainless steel refrigerator. “And I don’t have much to eat, but I have some cheese and crackers.”
“You don’t have to worry about that,” I said.
Why wasn’t I bent over his kitchen island by now? Our kiss had worked me up to boiling point level hot, and all I could think about was more. More of his closeness, more of his tree trunk arms wrapped around me, more of his mouth on mine.
I tried to catch his eye as he took a small block of cheddar cheese out of the fridge, but he was preoccupied. He found the crackers he wanted in the pantry, took out a wooden cutting board, and pulled a knife from a butcher block.
It wasn’t until he was halfway through carefully slicing the cheese that I realized he was avoiding looking at me. Had he changed his mind about this? One glance at the sizable bulge in his pants said no, but his actions said maybe.
“Hey, um…if you want me to go, I can,” I said.
I’d followed him over here in Pete’s truck, and I could always drive it back to The Hideout for a few drinks and some food like I’d planned when I went there in the first place.
“No.” His gaze locked on to me, his tone firm. “Why? Do you want to go?”
What was that I saw in his eyes? Disappointment, and a mix of other emotions I couldn’t place. Which was strange because usually, I could read him better. His shoulders were rigid and it looked like he was wound tight. Could it be that the cool, calm, always-in-control chief of police was…nervous?
