Page 4 of Bred By The Deputy
Dole’s eyebrows shoot up before his green eyes darken. They go from a warm caramel to a deep mocha. Beneath the table, I rub my thighs together, trying to rid the heat between them. Leaning across the table, his big, rough fingers still holding mine, he nods. Then he smirks. No amount of rubbing could cool the heat that smile sends between my thighs.
“Della, you might be the prettiest thing I ever laid eyes on. You don’t care about that though, do you?” His voice drops low, sexy.
Blinking at him, I lick a drop of gravy off my lip. Holding his gaze, I nod. Because right here and right now, I do care. It matters if he thinks I am pretty even if I stopped caring about that a long time ago. I flush when his eyes trail over me, surprising myself. I am not shy or coy with men. I never bothered with flirting or trying to pick someone up before. I can’t be sure that is what I am doing now, but it feels like it.
“Maybe I do. If it’s you we’re talking about. Is it wrong for a girl to want someone to find her pretty, Dole?”
Dole toys with my fingers, his roughened ones twisting mine tightly within his. His fingertips brush against my wrist, where my pulse is doing the salsa. His eyes fly back to mine as his fingers press harder on that dancing pulse. I flush hotter, certain I must blend in with the deep red diner booth I am seated at.
“No, darlin’, there is nothing wrong with a girl wanting to feel pretty. Why does it matter to you, tonight, here with me, if I find you pretty?”
His teeth scrape over his bottom lip and I almost groan. Why is that so hot? Why is he, in his deep blue uniform with the soft warmth in his eyes, so damn hot? I almost feel drunk as we sit there together, mashed potatoes and delicious pot roast between us.
“Because, Dole, I think you are pretty. For the first time in a very long time, I feel safe. Maybe that made me notice how pretty your eyes are. How nice your mouth is. I never notice those sorts of things because I never look at men all that much. Most of them look the same to me.”
“Well, it sure feels nice you saying I have a pretty anything, darlin’. I am more worried about you telling me you don’t feel safe. I can fix that, Della. Let me take you somewhere safe. Not because you’re pretty or some helpless rich girl. Because, if I’m being honest, the idea of anyone hurting you pisses me off. Just a little less than the idea of someone else getting to make you feel safe.”
Swallowing hard, I stare at him, nodding. “You going to take me home, deputy?”
“Yeah, darlin’. I’m going to take you home.”
Chapter Three
Dole
Sometimes I make very bad decisions.
Dating Mackenzie was a bad decision. Going with my cousins up on the mountain during a snowstorm to go hunting was too. I never could pull the trigger on a defenseless animal. I was always the type of man who wanted to save the little critters and strays.
It must be my hero complex that has me bringing Della home.
Bringing the most beautiful woman I have ever known to my place hours after we met does not feel like one of my bad decisions. As we sat at the diner, talking about nothing and saying everything, I knew. There was no way I could let her sail back out of Driftwood as fast as she had flown in. Not just because I have never felt so attracted, so connected to a woman before. But because something or someone has her running scared.
I’ll be damned if I let anyone hurt her.
“This is not what I expected,” Della muses as she wanders through my living room as I work on getting a fire going.
Winter is still lingering here in Driftwood, and it probably will for a few months. Not that I mind it. I love the snow, the cool temps, the stormy skies, and the dark nights. It is peaceful here, a big reason why I came home after I finished my time in the military.
I had never seen action from behind a desk where I was an intelligence officer. After I retired, I could have gone anywhere, but I wanted to come here, the one place that had always been home. Several of my commanders and fellow officers found their way here too. Besides the MC, almost a third of the population here are former military.
“What did you expect, darlin’?” I ask as I turn to watch her pulling books off my shelves, touching photos of my family.
“Not this. I guess…crates for chairs, boxes of old pizza, beer cans. You know, typical guy décor. This is not at all typical guy décor. I suppose because you, Dole are not a typical guy, are you?”
Turning to her as the fire sparks to light, I watch her for a moment. The air between us has been thick with something hot since we sat down at the diner. Taking slow, careful steps toward her, I tilt my head. In thigh-high suede boots, a sweater dress that clings to her every perfect curve, and thick, waving hair, she ought to be on a runway not in my cabin.
“No, I suppose I ain’t a typical guy. Those are my sisters,” I say as I move close, letting a hand drop to her hip as I reach past her for the photo. “They are a little bit more… free-spirited than I am. I am the middle child, so I was picking up or looking after one of them, but I never minded. My parents,” I nod at their photo as I grin. “Were high school sweethearts and still as in love as they were back then. My father told me once he never wanted to take a chance on someone else after he met her. She was his chance for a happy ever after.”
“That might be the most endearing thing I’ve ever heard. My parents should have ended things before I got here. Guess I am glad they didn’t. I knew they loved each other once and they loved the idea of me. The idea of a good pretty little thing who did as daddy told her to. Until I started doing what I thought was right, what I felt good doing, at least. Not so sure they loved me much after that.”
“Don’t you talk to them?”
“No. Not in years. We send cards on holidays, anniversaries, that sort of thing. We used to do video calls with my brothers but…my brothers became important men. I was never too important to make a call. Do you talk to your sisters often? I always wanted sisters.”
“Yeah, we talk very often. My sister Joanna has a shop here in town, she just opened it about a year ago. Janice, my baby sister, is off at college in Harmony Hollow. We try to have a dinner together once a month if we can.”
“Families do that, for real? I never knew anyone who did that in real life. I mean, Quinn’s daddy used to force us to have these uncomfortable meals on Sundays. After he foundthe lord. Never mind that he was banging a dozen women who were not his wife. Quinn would ruin them with food fights or big dramatic fights with her father. It was a good time.”
