Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 62783 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 314(@200wpm)___ 251(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62783 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 314(@200wpm)___ 251(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
“You won’t have bad breath,” I said, barely biting back a laugh. “It’s this or I have to run a full citation, including a breathalyzer.”
“Oh,” she said, dropping her hand. She rolled her eyes, then blew onto my face.
There wasn’t a hint of alcohol on her breath. Good for her, she wasn’t lying. Not that she’d ever been much of a liar. She always liked to speak the truth, even if it was hurtful. It was one of the things that made me fall for her years ago.
“Happy? That felt ridiculous.” The cat in her arms shifted, and she shook her head.
“Yeah,” I said. “You’re free to go.”
“Thank you so very much, Officer Harlowe,” she said, drawing out my title with a little attitude that sent me straight back to high school where I lived to rile her up.
Instinctively, I stepped toward her, plucking a leaf from her hair. She tipped her chin, holding my gaze, not once backing away from the closeness between us.
Were those chills sweeping across the bare skin of her neck?
Fire blazed beneath my skin like an electric charge, and it was strong enough that I took a giant step back.
“Small world,” she said. “Running into you like this.”
“Technically I got called to you.”
“I’m not sad it was you who came to my rescue,” she said. “Maybe we could grab coffee sometime. Catch up—”
“That’s not a good idea,” I cut her off.
I’d only seen her for a matter of minutes and I was already spiraling.
God, I missed her.
I’d never stopped missing her. But it’d been years. It was easier when the small-town gossip mill would report her continued travels anywhere but Sweet Water. Now that she was standing in front of me? It was all I could do to not reach for her, hold her, laugh with her like we used to.
“Right,” she said, but I saw a flash of hurt in her eyes. “I’m sure you can handle this then.” She gently shoved the cat into my arms, who tensed up at the change in hands.
“What do you expect me to do with him?” I called after her as she headed back to her car.
“I figure you know the best animal shelter in town, Officer Harlowe.” She slammed her car door shut, heading off in the opposite direction before I could respond.
I looked down at the cat, and shook my head.
“Smooth, Jim,” I said to myself. “Real fucking smooth.”
After dropping the cat off at the shelter and finishing my shift, I changed into regular clothes and headed toward Main Street.
“You’re late,” Ridge grumbled the second I walked through his shop’s door. The sign said closed, but he lived right above his tattoo parlor so he’d left it unlocked for me.
“Sorry,” I said, following him up the stairs to his apartment. He immediately cracked open a couple beers, handing me one. “It was a weird night,” I said after taking a sip.
“It’s Sweet Water,” he said. “How weird can it get?”
I tilted my head, taking another drink as we leaned on opposite sides of his kitchen counter. “Anne VanDoren weird.”
Ridge nearly spit out his beer. “No shit?”
“No shit.”
“Explain.” Ridge motioned to me with the bottle in his hand, and we both took seats on the barstools around his kitchen island.
His loft was small, but functional, the walls decorated with art of his own making, much like his skin. He was covered in ink, and had even given me a couple of my tattoos, not only because he was my best friend, but because he was one of the best tattoo artists in the country. Even the freaking Carolina Reapers came to see him.
I took another drink before telling him what had happened with Anne, all to the furrowed brow, sullen look of my grumpy friend. I mean, he wasn’t exactly an angry guy, he just constantly looked like it.
“She said she’d just got off work?” Ridge asked after I was finished.
“Yeah, I guess she did,” I said, almost completely missing that detail. I’d been too busy being shocked at the sight of her. “Of all the times I’ve thought about seeing her again, I never thought I’d run into her like that.” I laughed, and Ridge grunted.
“So she’s back in town for a while then,” he said, eying me.
“I guess. If she has a job.”
“Where does she work?”
“I have no idea.”
“And you’re not going to try and find out?” he asked, setting his beer on the island.
“Why would I do that?”
“I don’t know. Maybe because you moped about her for years and now she’s back. It’s not like you’re seeing anyone.”
He wasn’t wrong. I’d dated off and on over the years, but all those relationships had been fleeting, and not one of them had ever really wanted it to be more serious, which had been fine with me.