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When his eyes finally focused, he saw the prettiest pair of green eyes he’d ever seen. Her lashes were long and full. Almond-shaped eyes. She had a cute little beauty mark on the top of her left cheek, near the outer corner of her eye.
She licked her lips, and the shine caught his attention.
“Are you alright?”
Her voice was breathy.
“Yeah. You?” He smiled. “I mean, are you alright?”
She still laid on top of his body and he realized his arms were still wrapped around her.
“Yeah.”
She moved to slide off to the right side and his body responded to her movements.
She scrambled to her feet and dusted her burgundy slacks and matching blazer with her hands. He stared for a minute, then stood and assessed his shoulder. Rotating it slightly, he felt it twinge, but it would be fine.
Her eyes moved to his shoulder. She touched his shirt. “You’ve ripped your shirt.”
“It’ll be fine. Helissa will take care of it.”
She nodded. “That’s good.”
She stooped and began picking up the mail she’d been carrying. He helped her, then suddenly realized he owed her an apology.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you.”
She swept her long, dark hair over her shoulders and shrugged. “It may have been my fault. I was looking over the mail as I walked to the box here," she gestured...left, "and I wasn't paying attention.”
She smiled, and he could have stared at her for days.
She shrugged. “If you’re alright, I really need to get going. I have a meeting.”
Taking a step back, he held his hands up. “No worries. I’m fine. I have to get going, too.”
She nodded, put the envelopes into the mailbox, lifted the red flag and turned to the building behind her. The Paper Trail.
He waited until she disappeared through the door and turned toward the site once again, this time he’d be more careful.
As he jogged onto the construction site, the sheriff’s squad car was in the lot. “Shit.” He jogged to the office and didn’t hesitate to enter.
The sheriff sat in a chair, speaking with Baxter Fenshaw, the general contractor, and Henry Delany, one of his teammates.
The sheriff turned. “Well, there he is.” The sheriff’s eyes landed on his shoulder and the ripped shirt then slid up to his face.
“Are you alright?”
“Yeah. Took a tumble.”
Henry raised his eyebrows in question. Spencer shook his head, grabbed a water and took a seat.
Henry cleared his throat. “The sheriff wanted to chat with us about some help to serve papers on Craig Howard.”
“Okay. Why wouldn’t a process server do that?”
The sheriff leaned forward. “Well, the BRR are being sued. Specifically, Craig. For property damages and medical bills suffered by Flynn DeMario from the gas station. I don’t think he’s going to take it well. We only have one process server in town and he’s in his sixties.”
Spencer felt his eyebrows shoot into his hairline when the construction door opened.
