The sheriff wasn’t smiling. He wasn’t frowning either.
Blake took that as acceptance. His nod helped prove it further.
“I suppose you’re right about that. Thank you.”
Blake felt like she had given the man some humble pie.
No sooner had she felt some satisfaction did she have to eat a slice herself.
The sheriff had the audacity to start walking around her toward his truck door.
“That’s it?” she asked, doing a little hop, skip, and shuffle to follow. “I didn’t tell you what I could help you with yet.”
She stopped between him and the driver’s-side door, sliding in before he could even reach the handle. His eyebrow rose again at the move. Blake watched it with a surge of annoyance. His tone when he spoke next didn’t help.
“I didn’t ask for anything from you. So don’t worry yourself over me.”
His eyes dropped to the door handle next to her.
She took a deep breath and moved out of the way. She could fight him, get huffier and turn into a Southern woman who just so happened to be a former sheriff, but instead, Blake decided to play it as cool as she could. She had dealt with strong-willed people all her life. Just because this one was a sheriff didn’t mean a thing.
She watched him open his door, deposit the shirt on the passenger’s seat, and place his coffee in the cup holder, all like he didn’t have an audience.
When he settled into his seat and went to close the door, Blake cleared her throat and threw bait in the water.
“I can give you Cassandra West.”
Blake was ready to add context, but something changed. The man’s entire body tensed. His brows went up. His eyes found and then swallowed hers. She didn’t need to give him anything more.
He was already hooked.
“What do you mean, you can ‘give me Cassandra West’?” he asked.
Blake took a small step forward and lowered her voice.
“When Price was driving me home yesterday, he mentioned you had been having a hard time getting her to talk to you. Since she seems to be skirting you, I’m assuming it’s not for a case. At least not one where your badge would work, or else you would have already had her talking.” Blake patted her chest. “I can get you a casual conversation with her.”
“You’refriends with Cassandra West?”
Blake didn’t like his tone. Hers came out a little huffier, regardless of trying to remain completely civil.
“We go way back. She’ll talk if I’m there. Of that, I’m sure.”
“If you’re there,” he deadpanned.
“If I’m there,” she repeated.
Blake took another small step forward. She made a show of turning her wrist over to look at her watch.
“And, as it so happens, my presence can be helpful right about now.” Blake gave the man a big old grin. “What do you say, Sheriff? Do you want my help or not?”
A part of Blake expected the man to grumble or try to dissuade the notion that he needed help. Instead, he surprised her.
He nodded.
“Your car or mine?”
Blake mentally hiccupped. Her face started to heat.