Page 42 of Need You
“Okay.” Was it his imagination or did her voice sound huskier than usual? “Just be careful of the pins when you take off the shorts.”
“I will.” He told his legs to move, but she was so close. Right there by his crotch.Ah, Jesus. “Uh . . . thanks ... Delaney. Best gift ever.”
“I doubt it, but I’m glad you like them. I’ll make the alterations and have them back to you by this evening.”
He wanted to ask her to dinner, which was stupid on so many levels. Ultimately, he didn’t because he couldn’t predict his hours. In the long run it was better that way. He could fall for a woman like Delaney Scott. But he’d already done that with Lisa, and look at what a train wreck that had been. Why couldn’t he just fall for a nice, safe, local girl?
He made it to work thirty minutes late.
Carrie Jo glanced at the clock on the wall as he passed by her desk. “Oversleep?”
He stopped and eyed her bowl of cottage cheese. “I thought you were on that cleanse.”
“I signed up for Weight Watchers.” She pointed at her meal. “This is only four points and the fruit is free.”
He had no idea what she was talking about. “Is that good?”
“I get forty-four a day, so yeah.”
“Did you exercise?”
“If you count walking to my car.”
He shook his head. “Well, at least that’s healthier than those vile juice drinks. Anything going on I should know about?”
“So far it’s been quiet. Haven’t heard a peep out of Pond Scum.”
“Don’t call him that, Carrie Jo.” Even though the name suited the mayor, he didn’t want his staff to use it. “I’ll be in my office.”
“Want coffee?”
“Why? You planning to get me a cup?”
“I figured if you were getting yourself one, you could get me one too. But not the swill here.” Jack made a pot every morning and it tasted like a cross between sludge and burned tires. “I was thinking you could get it at Tart Me Up. I’m slaving away here for you.”
He rolled his eyes. “Give me ten minutes to get caught up.” The fact was he wanted breakfast anyway.
In his office, Carrie Jo had already booted up his computer and he quickly scrolled through his e-mails. Nothing important. He made a few calls, then popped into Jack’s office.
“You want anything from Tart Me Up?”
“Nah, I’m good,” Jack said. “You hear anything from Pond Scum?”
Jeez, that name was going to get them all in trouble. “Not since the city council meeting. Hopefully that’ll keep him off our asses for a while.”
Jack made a face. “Doubtful, but I’m keeping my fingers crossed.”
Colt walked the short block to Tart Me Up. The door jingled when he went inside. A good crowd—all waiting for their numbers to be called—called out a chorus of “Hi, Chief.” Rachel Johnson came out from the back, her apron covered in white powder.
“You have a fight with a flour sack?”
“Something like that.” Rachel’s eyes sparkled, and not for the first time Colt noticed how pretty she was.
She’d moved to Glory Junction three years ago from San Francisco, where she’d been a corporate lawyer. Following her dream of being a baker, she’d quit her law job, gone to culinary school, and bought the old Glory Junction Bakery, which had been floundering ever since Starbucks and Peet’s had come to town. For months after opening, she’d given away free samples of her delicious pastries, delivered her mouthwatering sandwiches to local businesses, and had been active with the Chamber of Commerce, which had paid off. Judging by the lines of people that started early in the morning and didn’t let up until well after lunch, Rachel was killing it.
A few times she’d subtly hinted to Colt that she was interested. He’d never acted on it, using his chief position as an excuse when really he’d never felt that zing. Who could say why? Rachel was smart, successful, gorgeous, a damned good skier, and here in Glory Junction for good. Maybe if he gave her half a chance something would develop. But that was the thing about being a public official—you couldn’t take every attractive single woman in town on a test drive.
She filled him a large cup of coffee. “What else can I get for you, Chief?”
