Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 28714 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 144(@200wpm)___ 115(@250wpm)___ 96(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 28714 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 144(@200wpm)___ 115(@250wpm)___ 96(@300wpm)
"Did he just say he's going to wrangle a mountain lion?" Sheriff Dillon Armstrong growls, stomping into dispatch with a scowl on his face.
"Yep. Ms. Lula called again."
"Jesus," Dillon mutters, raking a hand through his hair. "I thought he was serious."
"Brian is never serious about anything."
"True." Dillon's brows furrow. "Why haven't I fired him yet?"
"Because you're a pushover."
"Hey, now. Watch it," Dillon says, pointing at me. He can't hide the smile dancing at his lips, though. "Maybe I'll fire you instead of him. I see you spilled your coffee again."
"The desk wobbled."
"You are so full of shit, Tessler," he says, shaking his head. "The only thing that wobbled is you. Stop drinking coffee in my dispatch center before I really do have to fire you for destroying the damn place."
I laugh, not in the least intimidated by him or his empty threats. He's been telling me the same thing since I started. We both know I'm not giving up coffee. And if he isn't threatening to fire or shoot someone, it's a bad week around here.
Unlike a lot of guys, I don't think Dillon necessarily wants to be sheriff. Everyone just kind of keeps voting him back into office anyway. He's good at his job. He understands the people in this town. And, unlike a lot of people who campaign against him, he doesn't give a crap about playing the politics game. He just wants to be a cop.
It's hard not to like him.
"Fuck me."
I glance past Dillon, the laugh dying on my lips when my gaze lands on the giant standing in the doorway behind him, staring at me like he wants to know how I taste. Easton Ames.
Just a few months ago, his picture was plastered all over the news when he was shot and nearly killed in Dallas after interrupting a burglary. But the photos didn't do him justice. At all.
Easton is sexy as hell.
Short brown hair brushes his forehead, hanging over piercing gray eyes that sear into me, making my core clench. Not even his five o'clock shadow hides the fullness of his lips or the sharpness of his jaw. The muscles in his chest and tattooed arms flex with every move, every breath.
"Easton, meet Molly Tessler," Dillon says, his voice seeming to come from far away. "Molly, this is Easton Ames."
"Molly," Easton growls, his tongue skating across his bottom lip. His gaze drifts down my body, lingering on my chest.
I pull my jacket tightly around me, trying to hide the way I shiver beneath the weight of his gaze. There's no mistaking that look on his face. I've seen it over and over again from guys just like him. Half of the guys who walk through the doors try to flirt with me or one of the other dispatchers. Doesn't matter what we look like, how old we are, if we have rings on our fingers…it's like they just can't help themselves.
Unfortunately for them, I know exactly how that story ends.
I grew up living with a guy just like him. My father slept his way through half of Houston. Didn't matter that he had a wife and daughter at home. Didn't matter that he nearly lost his badge because of it. He just couldn't help himself…or so he claimed.
I won't ever be my mom, having my heart broken over and over again by a man with a badge and a charming smile. I don't care if he is flipping gorgeous.
"Do you want something?" I ask pointblank when Easton just keeps staring at me.
"Yeah. You."
"Jesus fucking Christ," Dillon says, covering his mouth with his hand. It doesn't hide the way his entire body shakes with laughter.
"You did not just say that," I growl, my eyes narrowed on Easton.
"Oh, I definitely said it." He scrubs a hand through his hair, seemingly discomposed. "I just didn't mean to say it out loud."
Dillon practically chokes on his tongue, trying not to laugh.
The death glare I send him has him losing the battle.
The big jerk holds up his hands and slides around Easton, heading for the door. "You're on your own, Ames," he practically chortles. "Don't kill him, Molly. I'm too goddamn old to help you hide his big ass body."
"I'm not killing him. You're taking him with you."
"No can do," Dillon calls over his shoulder. "You're training him on our CAD system today."
"Wait. What?" I ask, gaping at Dillon's retreating back, praying I just misheard him.
"He's our new detective."
Crap. I didn't mishear anything. Easton Ames is our new detective. My stomach sinks as Dillon disappears through the doors, leaving the two of us alone. Maybe I should have questioned why he was here instead of staring at him like an idiot.
"So…" Easton says after a long moment, a smile in his voice. "You're responsible for me today, huh?"
"No." I cross my arms, scowling at him. "I'm responsible for ensuring you know how to work the system. You're responsible for you. And that means you're responsible for ensuring you don't flirt with me."