Page 318 of Dirty Discipline, Vol. 2

Checking both ways, she jogged across the street and into the parking lot of the Stile’s Groceries. Just as she was hopping up onto the sidewalk, she happened to glance toward the store’s entrance. Who should she see, his broad shoulder leaning up against a square brick pillar and gray cowboy hat tipped back, but the sheriff himself. He wore sunglasses and was chewing on the end of a toothpick, something she couldn’t see until she got closer. What she could see, however, was that his gaze was locked on her and probably had been since before she’d crossed the street.

Shit, and she had just jaywalked.

Nobody went to jail for that, she told herself sternly. At least she hoped they didn’t.

Her stomach instantly bound into knots, which only got tighter with every step. He didn’t take his eyes off her once. Not until she was within feet of passing him.

“That’s jaywalking, Miss Markle,” he intoned.

Folding her arms across her nervous stomach, she headed for the entrance and said nothing. All she wanted was to get her groceries and go home. But no sooner had she grabbed a cart, than did she notice Sheriff Barnes shoving off the post he’d been leaning on to fall into step behind her.

“License or ID,” he said, as he pulled his ticket book out of his back pocket.

She almost groaned out loud. Stopping, she glared back at him. “You can’t be serious.”

An eyebrow arched up from behind the multicolored mirror of his sunglasses. “Do I look like I’m serious?”

She glared at him, seeing nothing but her own reflection frowning back at her via the lenses. He looked just like his brother in that moment, except with a big, fat, shaved head.

That was a terrible thing to think about another and derive this much private amusement from. Then the guilt set in.

She sighed, pushed the cart back amongst the others, walked back outside and pulled her wallet to deal with this. “I just wanted to do my shopping. I don’t want trouble.”

“Jaywalking is against the law,” he reminded her. “It’s also not safe. Not for you or for the poor person just a-driving through town, who might not see you in time to stop. Also, it’s the third time you’ve done it in front of me. Time to nip it in the bud. License.”

Unsnapping her wallet, she pulled out an expired learner’s permit and handed it to him. “I’ve got my high school ID card. It’s expired too.”

“I’ll make do,” he assured her.

Folding her arms across her chest, she watched him write out the ticket, which she then had to sign. He handed it to her. Snatching it from his fingers, she glared at the $25 fine. “Thanks a lot—” She glared at his signature. “—Jeff.”

Stuffing the ticket in her back pocket, she took her license when he offered it and then headed inside. She gave him a nasty look back over her shoulder before yanking her cart back out of the return and storming off.

It was hard to make a stern exit when one was driving a squeaky-wheeled cart, but she did her best. Halfway past the registers, behind her, the sheriff broke into a cheerful whistle. She heard the clang of another cart being yanked out of the return stall, and when she glanced back over her shoulder, there he was—Sheriff Barnes, falling into step once more behind her with a shopping cart of his own now in tow.

She immediately stopped where she was, turning to glare at him with her hands knuckling into her hips. “This is harassment,” she hissed once he’d caught up with her. “You can’t just follow me wherever I go.”

He checked the time on his watch, then turned it towards her and tapped the display face. “I just got off work. I’ve got shopping to do too.”

She was pretty sure this was harassment no matter what he said, but what could she do about it? Nothing, that’s what. Grabbing her cart, she marched off towards the produce section. Just as she reached it, she glanced back over her shoulder to find him right there behind her, his long legs having no problem keeping pace with her.

He was smiling. “What do you know? I always start with fruits and vegetables too.”

Asshole.

Gritting her jaw so tight her teeth hurt, she let out a slow breath, forced herself to calm down, and then got to work doing the necessary stuff while she bit back everything she wasn’t brave enough to say to him.

She grabbed a cheap bag of carrots and a handful of apples, one for each day of the week. She had no idea how long she was going to have to go before she had money again, so the apples were a luxury. But she’d missed them. There was nothing like the fresh, crisp sweetness of a ripe apple, and the ones she’d gotten in prison were anything but.

“No, no, no,” Sheriff Barnes said, coming up to the fruit display beside her. “Don’t take those unless you want mealy. You’ll be disappointed. Fuji, always go Fuji. They’re the best.”

He took the half bag she’d already filled and promptly dumped them back out again. He refilled it, this time with ripe, shiny Fuji apples. “Here you go. I’d advocate you try one, but… you know, not until you pay for them.”

She frowned at him. She also took the apples and put them in her cart. Without speaking to him, she walked away again. Oh the things she would have loved to say. Except he was still an officer and she was a convict, fresh from prison, and he was sort of even being nice. Yes, she didn’t want his unwanted advice about what apples to eat, but she still felt a little like a jackass herself for being this close to just biting his head off.

Don’t follow me, she wanted to snap. Don’t follow, don’t talk, and leave me the hell alone!

She abandoned the produce aisle altogether, but paused again when she passed the discount rack.

---