Page 8 of Hot Lovin'

“Heard the little guy was here. Thought I’d come in and see him. Check he’s okay.” The words feel awkward, like they’re borrowed from someone else’s mouth. It’s not like me to get personally involved, but something about this kid has gotten under my skin. Maybe it’s that he’s a local, or maybe it’s the things I read in his file.

Lottie’s expression softens, and the sparkle in her eyes says she knows exactly why I’m here. She’s only half-right. I am here to see Aiden again, but is it wrong if I get to see her again in the process? “He’s adorable, isn’t he? And I’m sure he’d love to see the big, bad sheriff who rescued him.”

“Big and bad, huh?” I can’t help but smirk. Lottie makes me feel less like the tough-as-nails lawman and more like a knight from a damn fairy tale.

“Come on.” She stands, gesturing for me to follow. “He’s in the playroom with Sandy, waiting to meet up with the psychologist.”

Lottie precedes me down the hall, her lush hips swaying in her jeans which mold to her rounded ass. Fuck, she’s my ideal woman with her thick thighs, wide hips, and heavy breasts.

I’m no Casanova—I had one relationship back in high school, which fizzled out when we graduated and went to different colleges. I had a fling or two over the next few years but quickly learned that one-night stands and casual sex weren’t for me. I’ve been celibate for… fuck, it must be going on eight or nine years.

Work has been my sole focus during those years, and my only companion has been my hand when I need release. I’m thirty-two now, and relationships have been low on my list of priorities… until a curvy little whirlwind blew into my life and spilled hot coffee all over me. It wasn’t only my shirt she ruined that day—she ruined me for any woman but her.

I want her. I want to bask in the liveliness of her mind and spirit and lose myself in her soft curves.

Sandy, the receptionist, sits with a solitary boy as we enter the colorful playroom. Aiden is piecing together a jigsaw puzzle with a concentration that’s heartbreaking and impressive all at once.

“Hey, Aiden,” Lottie says softly, bending down to his level.

The boy looks up, and there it is, the sweet, innocent smile that makes you want to move mountains to keep it there. His brown hair is a tousled mess, and his dark brown eyes hold a wisdom no child should have. It breaks my heart for the poor kid, and I want to put his parents’ heads in a vise lock and squeeze until they beg me to stop. I hate them both with a fierceness that takes my breath away.

“Hi,” Aiden responds after a long pause to look up at me, shyly pushing a lock of hair from his face.

“This is Sheriff Quinn. He’s a friend. Do you remember him?”

Aiden’s gaze shifts to me once more, sizing me up.

I kneel beside him, extending a hand. “Nice to see you again, buddy.”

His tiny hand slips into mine, and it’s like a charge of energy to my heart. “You da policeman fwom da night when…” His voice trails off as shadows slide across his eyes.

“Yep. I make sure people are safe.” I want to reach out and ruffle his hair, but the way he leans back slightly, away from me, tells me he’s afraid of being touched.

“Like me?” His questioning look is probing, demanding I tell him the truth and not lie.

“Exactly like you.” I nod, and at that moment, I swear I’d take on the world for this kid. Everything about his situation resonates with me, with my childhood.

“Sheriff Quinn is going to make sure nothing bad happens again,” Lottie adds, her voice filled with a promise I intend to keep.

“Okay.” Aiden smiles and turns back to his puzzle, adding another piece. Has he heard that promise before? Maybe he doesn’t believe it anymore? My mouth tightens before I force myself to relax. I’ll deal with his parents later.

“See, not so scary,” Lottie teases as we stand and step away to give Aiden space.

“Never been accused of being the friendly type before,” I grumble.

“First time for everything.” Her grin widens. “There it is. I’ve been waiting for that.”

“Waiting for what?”

She nudges my shoulder playfully. “Your first real smile.”

And I suddenly realize I’m doing precisely that—smiling at her. It’s the first genuine smile I’ve given in a long time.

I shake my head, trying not to show my embarrassment. “I’m no expert on four-year-olds, but is he a little behind on his speech?”

Lottie nods. “Yeah. I hope to get a speech therapist to work with him once he’s a little more settled. I don’t want to overwhelm him with lots of new faces.”

“Thanks for letting me see him,” I say, feeling oddly vulnerable. It’s a new and uncomfortable emotion, but it’s not about me anymore. It’s about that kid putting the puzzle together with such intense concentration. “Of course.” She brushes off the thanks like it’s nothing, but it’s everything.

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