New Hope, Old Grudges Read Online Anne Malcom

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary Tags Authors: Anne Malcom Advertisement1

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There she was... The spitfire. My spitfire.

And despite her protests, she’d be coming to my place tonight. Because I knew she felt it too. Whatever the fuck it was between us. Knew that she couldn’t fight it. She’d kissed me back. She would’ve let me fuck her on the counter of the coffee shop if we’d kept going. I would’ve done it if it wasn’t illegal.

I couldn’t do things like that, being the sheriff. And I didn’t want anyone seeing my woman come. That was for me and for me only.

I was at Kelly’s out of habit more than anything else. Killing time before I went to get Willow. It was my routine, come here for one beer after work. But that was when I didn’t have anyone but Velma waiting for me at home.

I liked the idea of Willow waiting for me at home.

Except she said she hated it in New Hope, was planning on leaving as soon as she could. That sent my mind reeling. One fuck and I was addicted. No, I’d been addicted before that. The idea of Willow going anywhere filled me with dread.

I was so in my head that I’d approached the bar and hadn’t realized who I was standing beside. My old high school buddy who I’d avoided these past few weeks.

“Fuck, bro, up here!” Sam grinned lewdly, holding up a meaty palm for a high five. “You banged it out with the ugly duckling. How was it? I bet she’s a fuckin’ freak in the sack, the weirdos always are.”

I didn’t consider myself an overly reactive person. Actually, I considered myself quite the opposite. I was trained to be that way. Letting emotions rule my actions would’ve meant the death of me or one of my brothers.

And now as town sheriff, I had to resist the urge to break asshole’s noses even though I really wanted to or they really deserved it. I had to be the cooler head.

My head was not cool when I plowed my fist through the face of the idiot I’d once considered a close friend.

He writhed on the ground, groaning, blood pouring from his nose.

“What the fuck, m-man?” he spluttered.

Mindful of my audience but not regretful of my actions, I looked down at him. “You speak one more fucking word about my woman, I’ll end you.”

Deciding it was time for a new routine, I turned and went in the direction of the door, ignoring the cheers from around me.

“I’m pressing charges!” he yelled at my back.

“Yeah, good luck with that,” I muttered, striding out the door.

I wasn’t fucking around anymore. I was going to get my woman.

WILLOW

I told myself I wasn’t going to be waiting for Brody tonight. That I’d be taking a drive in my luckily retrieved car. That I’d check into a motel. Or I’d tell my mother to simply ignore him at the door.

Except I still couldn’t afford a motel.

There wasn’t a blizzard, so technically, I could’ve taken a drive. But I didn’t.

And my mother certainly wouldn’t ignore Brody Adams at the door. She hadn’t mentioned him again, but I knew that she was hoping for some kind of romance.

I was determined that no romance would be had.

That’s why I was waiting at the door at eight. I had put on red, lacy underwear for confidence. Same with the tight jeans and bright red turtleneck sweater that hugged my curves and showed off a sliver of my stomach.

I’d blow-dried my hair wild and long, in the ’90s style blow-dry, my makeup was light, but I’d gone to the effort of putting it on.

For the same reason as the underwear.

Confidence.

Butterflies erupted in my stomach as the sound of a truck crunched in the driveway. I looked out to see his vehicle parking.

“Bye, Mom!” I yelled, wrenching open the door before he could knock on it and my mother could invite him in. We didn’t need that.

Brody was already halfway up the walk when I slammed the door shut. He looked much better than he should’ve, wearing a black beanie, a bulky jacket with a flannel underneath, faded jeans and boots.

His eyes immediately went to me, my outfit, eating me up, and then his brows knitted together. “You need more clothes on,” he growled. “It’s below freezing.”

My steps faltered at the look of hunger then concern for my well-being.

“I’m not planning on being outside for long.” I snatched his hand, attempting to drag him in the direction of the truck. But he stayed rooted. I wasn’t strong enough to drag two hundred pounds of pure muscle anywhere.

“First things first.” He drew me forward until our bodies were plastered together. His lips crashed down on mine, then he opened his jacket and wrapped it around me as he kissed me. With tongue. On our walkway. In full view of my mother, who was no doubt watching from the window.


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