Page 21 of Come Back to Me

Ha.

“Perhaps, but I doubt it, ma’am.”

I don’t tell her that twenty other people have complained today so I’m going to be visiting the bar once it opens.

I’m hoping after they have their inauguration event, they’ll cut down to three nights a week. Now, their forays into town are nightly and, according to one of my marshals who scoped out the territory this morning, the bar’s still being worked on, but at odd hours, making it hard to drop by.

The whole thing’s fucked up. Clearly, the MC has had their eyes on Pigeon Creek for longer than any of us realized.

When Tee shuffles her curvy ass into a spacious hall, an older lady hooked onto her arm, a bulging purse on her other shoulder, my brows lift when I see the resemblance between the two.

I’d wolf whistle if it weren’t creepy, but dayum, they’re like twins with a sixty-year age gap.

Suddenly, I’m face-to-face with what Tee’ll look like when she’s a hundred.

And no, I’m not thinking about wanting to see her hit every year in between then and now. Nope, no sirree.

I mean, Tee might put Venus to shame, but that’s definitely not where my mind went.

She might possess burnished copper eyes I’d happily be scalded by and have wavy hair that I want to tangle my fingers in, with rosy pink lips that’d be perfect for?—

No.

You. Are. Steering. Clear. Of. Christy. MacFarlane.

If only my sister-in-law and brother knew that, I wouldn’t be here.

“Mrs. Sorrento,” I murmur, brain whirring as I force myself to stop thinking about how goddamn gorgeous Tee is and recall how Mrs. Sorrento is Angela’s mom.

“Marshal,” she greets, her voice slightly croaky as her daughter and granddaughter both help her to the door.

It occurs to me then that she’s here to meet me.

If you asked me why I did it, I’d never be able to tell a soul, but I immediately click my heels together and straighten up like I’ve been called to attention.

Tee’s nonna laughs, the sound light and pure and sweet. The exact opposite of her granddaughter, whose chuckle might as well belong to a succubus. “Ohh, I like this one, Tee!”

Her granddaughter’s sweetly pert nose wrinkles. “Nonna.”

“Pleasure to meet you again, ma’am.” I’m sure I’ve seen her around town—Pigeon Creek’s small, after all—but I didn’t see her at the town hall gathering where I was officially introduced as the head of the marshals in this area last week.

Eyes Tee inherited gleam as they take me in. “If I hadn’t heard the gossip over the years, I’d never know you were a pilot. But I thought they shrunk?—”

“Nonna!” Tee chides, cheeks flushing. “Cody hasn’t shrunk.”

“Actually,” I gently correct. “I have. Curvature of the spine thanks to the machinery they hook us up to in the planes. I was on the taller side for being a pilot.” Almost wasn’t allowed into the program at all.

“You’ll still tower over Tee. I don’t take for this nonsense of a woman being taller than her man.”

“Nonna, that’s incredibly outdated.”

“That’s what happens when you were born eighty years ago,piccola,” she says, tone amused. “Your grandfather was shorter than me, so if anyone can complain, it’s me. How, marshal, was he supposed to swing me around when I looked down at him?”

Because she appears to genuinely be waiting for a reply, I gape at her. Her daughter comes to the rescue with:

“Oh,Madre! Leave the boy alone.”

“It’s a genuine question. How do you feel about potatoes, marshal?”

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