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I, on the other hand, am a puddle of goo on the sidewalk. My ovaries are shooting off fireworks. My skin vibrates. My heart feels like that cartoon dog with his heart pounding out of his chest. Owen stops and looks at me like I’m insane. I might be.
“Are you coming?” he asks.
“Yep, yeah, absolutely.” I do an awkward jog thing to catch up. We walk the rest of the block in silence. I pull my keys out of my purse when we reach my porch.
“Well, this is me. Have fun drinking. Thanks again.” I push open the door, step inside, and hurriedly close it behind me. Like I’m fifteen. Jesus, what is wrong with me?
The last thing I see before it firmly closes is Owen’s grin. “Thank you,” he yells through the door. “I had a really good time. I’m sure I’ll see you soon.”
I press my back against the door and slide down in mortification. Well, that’s one less guy I’ll have to worry about. Between whatever mental lapse I just had and Reed’s tale of the time my high school braces almost killed Brandon Cates, he’ll be long gone.
eight
OWEN
For the firsttime in a long time, I feel like I might have found a home. Since the pancake sign incident and subsequent flier disbursement, people call a greeting to me when they see me around town. Sure, some of those still involve my ass, but I’ve heard worse in my career.
I even enjoyed attending the pancake supper. My bank account is a little lighter, but it was for a good cause. And I got to spend the entire night with Eliot. Almost. Right up until she slammed the door in my face. I like to think I was too much of a temptation for her. A man can dream, right?
I did send a small bouquet of flowers as a thank you. Not roses; that’s a little too over the top. Whether she knows it or not, I’m counting that as date number one. Especially since she didn’t have to beg me not to arrest her at the end of the night. I would not have been opposed to putting my handcuffs to good use though. I grin at the thought as I work on my reports at my desk.
“I don’t know what’s got into you, but that’s quite the naughty grin you have going,” Cherylynn says on the way to the coffee pot. I pull a scowl at her, and she laughs. “I’m thinking all that good cheer somehow involves your date with Eliot Caraway. Am I right?” I notice everyone in the room has grown quiet. I’ll be the center of gossip for this week too.
“It wasn’t a date. I coerced her to take me,” I answer loud enough for everyone to hear. Laughter fills the room. It’s not like I could have forced her if she had refused, but I don’t need even more speculation circulating about us.
“Owen, I went to school with Eliot. You can’t coerce her to do anything she doesn’t want to do.” That makes me feel weirdly impressed with myself. She walks back to the front of the office.
“She’s also a serious ballbuster if you piss her off,” Ray mumbles. “Trust me, don’t get on her bad side. She’s much scarier than her sisters.” That observation pissesmeoff. Dude, don’t disparage the future Mrs. Steele. Oooh, I’m a riot. I’m laughing hysterically at that thought on the inside. I shoot a scowl at Ray on the outside.
I have the evening shift again. Slowly the office empties. The sun is setting when I start my patrol.
I don’t mind working late actually. Especially on the weekdays. Barring a major accident on the interstate, not much happens around here after dark. The kids are in school. Their parents have work. It’s pretty tame.
It’s past nine when my radio crackles to life. “Hey, Owen?”
“What’s up, Lara?” We’re not very formal here.
“I’m getting calls about someone drag racing up River Road.”
“I’ll check it out.”
“Thanks, Owen.”
I would guess it’s a couple of kids who should be home prepping for school tomorrow. I’ll haul them home, explain to their parents about the dangers of racing, and be back out within the hour. Parents hate being lectured. They usually take care of the problem for me.
I swing a U-turn on Main and head toward the road that runs next to the river. It’s not long before I see the problem.
A deep purple Camaro is burning all the rubber off its tires in the middle of the street. I flip on my lights and pull next to it before it can take off. I should have known it wasn’t some kid. They’re way more responsible than the red-headed accountant sitting in the driver’s seat.
I step out of the cruiser and hike my gun belt up. I’m seriously thinking about using parts of it on her. Settling the hat firmly on my head, I stomp to the driver’s door and jerk it open.
“Get. Out,” I snarl. She has the audacity to look at me with big puppy dog eyes. I come within a hair’s breadth of caving. “Out.” She sighs. Then she slides out from behind the steering wheel. “What the fuck, Eliot?” You know I was raised better than to cuss at a woman, but this one is the most frustrating woman I’ve ever met.
“Whoa. Language.” She smirks. I both want to throttle her and kiss the smirk off her face. I choose neither.
“Get in the cruiser.” We’ve played this game before. She shrugs and walks to the passenger side.
It’s not until I climb back inside and turn toward her that I realize her legs are bare to the middle of her thighs. She’s wearing a miniskirt. Her flowy blouse is cut to accentuate her perfect cleavage. How do I do my job with her looking like temptation itself?
