Chapter Five
Marsh didn’t mind working nights, normally, but something felt off. It was a slow Monday night with nothing big on the calendar, but it was as if the air was charged with intent.
“Do you need me to get you dinner before I leave?” Doris asked. She had stayed late, which was odd. Normally she was out the door and on her way the minute after the clock hit five.
“I’m sure. I’ll hang around for a little bit, then lock up.”
“Well, if you say so.”
He glanced up at her. “What?”
She sighed. “Are you sure you didn’t have plans tonight?”
“I knew I was working tonight. Chet took off because of family coming into town.”
Another sigh, this one filled with disappointment. “You need a life, Marsh.”
A bubble of laughter rose up. “Do tell.”
“I thought you were interested in that Constance Merryweather.”
Of course, Doris had noticed his interest. Nothing escaped the woman’s notice. “Are you trying to play matchmaker?”
Her cheeks turned pink. “I’m not. She’s just nice. And you’re nice.”
This was odd. Doris never wanted to talk about his personal life. No. That was wrong. She had always told him that fate would pick the perfect woman for him. What the hell that meant, he didn’t know.
“Call if you need anything,” she said, opening the door.
“Will do.”
Once she was gone, he settled back in his chair, setting his feet on the desk. He wasn’t in his office, but at one of the desks his deputy used. He loved what he did. Loved the town that had taken him in when he was just three years old. But lately…he had been restless.
As if on cue, the door blew open, and he frowned. That should have been locked. Standing right inside the threshold was Simon, Constance Merryweather’s brother-in-law. Marsh frowned.
“What are you doing here?”
Simon smiled at him. Marsh didn’t trust it. The other man let one eyebrow rise like he had heard Marsh’s thoughts.
“I wanted to stop by and talk to you about a jackass.”
He blinked. “What?”
“I take it you like my sister-in-law.”
Not a question. What was it about everyone lately? They all seemed to point him in the direction of Constance.
“And?”
“Well, she has a problem, and you need to help her with it.”
Marsh heard the evasion. Oh, the man was telling him the truth, but it wasn’t the entire truth. Around the edges of his words there seemed to be deceit. He was always good at detecting lies.
“And what would this problem be?”
He sighed. “A sort of ex of hers has appeared in town. He is not a good…man.”
Marsh was up and out of his chair before he could even think. “Sort of an ex?”
The other man crossed his arms. “You might not know this, but Constance comes from a very well-connected family.”
Again, Simon gave him a partial truth. Alarm bells were clanking in Marsh’s head.
“That well-connected family wants her to marry this bastard. She does not. Hence the reason she’s here in your town. She left her family—even Cappy—and came here.”
He had often wondered about the woman. Knowing that she left a twin sister she apparently loved stirred something in his gut. She seemed like she was from another time. Her little bookshop was the heart of the town in a lot of ways. And she did have a kind heart.
“And this asshole who is here?”
“Alaister…Higgens.”
The name sent a flash of anger rushing through his body. He fisted his hands. Simon’s gaze slipped down to his hands, then back up to his face. His almost otherworldly eyes studied him. Again, something about the name was off, but what Simon said was mostly true.
“Sheriff…who are your people?”
“My father was the sheriff before me.”
“So, just a Texas man?”
For some reason, he wanted to tell Simon. It wasn’t like he was hiding anything. Everyone in town knew his story. But most of the time, he would tell people his father was the sheriff and not tell them about how. But for some reason, he wanted to tell this man.
“I was found in a wrecked car.”
Simon’s gaze sharpened. “Your parents?”
“My birth parents were dead.”
Something moved over his expression.
“Hmm. Well, either way, I would like you to talk to Constance. She’s…
well, it seems that she’s going to give in to her parents’ pressure and marry this prick.
The man…well, I worry he’ll hurt her. And while I would happily break every bone in his body, she won’t let me. She worries what would happen to me.”
He was already moving toward the door. “Is she at home?”
“Yes. He just showed up there, but Cappy and I chased him off. I’m worried that he’ll show back up tonight.”
Marsh was on his way to his truck.
“Oh, Sheriff?” He paused at his driver’s door.
“What?”
“Just promise me you’ll take care of her.”
Again, not a question, almost a demand. Something slipped over his neck, stirring the fine hairs. It was as if he was taking a serious oath…one that would be soaked in blood.
“I promise.” Always.
That thought should scare him, but it felt right. Something within clicked, as if a puzzle piece just fell into place. With that thought, he headed out into the night.
Constance had just stepped out of the bathtub when she heard knocking downstairs. At least she knew it wasn’t Alastair. That jerk would just pop into her house uninvited. Constance was pretty sure Cappy put a solid protection spell on the house.
“Constance,” someone called out. Not just someone. Marsh. Freaking Marsh was here.
Her head started to spin, and her body vibrated with need. What the hell was that? It was like earlier when she had felt as if she were coming down with something. Without drying off, she grabbed her robe. Her heart was smacking against her chest. Damn if her nipples weren’t hard.
She almost fell down the stairs, a sense of urgency filling her entire body. Checking out the peephole, she saw that it was indeed the sheriff. How he got through the protection, she would never know.
“I hear you breathing, Constance. Open the door.”
The demand in his voice had her pausing. He had never been…pushy. In fact, he had always treated her with kid gloves, but the tone in his voice told her he would not take no for an answer.
She unlocked the door. It took her a couple of times, her fingers fumbling over the metal deadbolt. Again, it was like her entire body was vibrating.
The door opened with a whoosh. His gaze narrowed, traveling from her face down her body, then back up again. His face flushed, and his eyes seemed to turn a shade darker, almost black.
She stepped back, not actually to get away from him, but to allow him space to step over the threshold. Marsh hesitated; his gaze centered on her. Then, he stepped into her house. The door slammed behind him, but she didn’t pay attention to how it closed.
She licked her lips, and his gaze snagged on her mouth.
“What are you doing here, Sheriff?”
When had her voice turned husky?
“Marsh.”
“W-what?”
“Call me, Marsh, Constance.”
His voice tumbled over the syllables. She pressed her thighs together, trying to ease the sudden tension in her sex. Constance tried to ignore her body, but the steady drumbeat of need pounded deep inside of her.
“Okay, Marsh, why are you here?”
His nostrils flared as he breathed in deeply. “Are you baking?”
She frowned. “No.”
“I smell chocolate chip cookies.”
“Have you hit your head?”
He shook that head, his gaze still steady on her face. “Your brother-in-law told me you had an ex show up in town.”
“I don’t have an ex…oh, he means Alastair.
” Great, she thought he was here to take her to bed, and he was just doing his job.
Her shoulders slumped. “He’s not really an ex.
He’s just someone my family thinks I should marry.
Or rather our parents think I should marry, but even if he offered me the biggest golden cauldron, I would never marry that asshat. ”
His eyes widened, and she realized what she had said. Also, she was babbling like she usually did around him. No wonder the man always ran the other direction when she tried to talk to him.
She cleared her throat. “Yeah, he did. Not sure where he is right now. So, there was no reason for you to come.”
His head cocked to the side as his gaze narrowed.
He was looking at her like he was a predator.
She should be scared, but for some reason, she wasn’t.
Instead, hunger unfurled inside of her, coursing through her veins.
This was so bad. She wanted this man more than she wanted her powers back.
She ached with a longing for him, and all he saw her as was an obligation.
“If that’s all…” she made a motion to the front door behind him.
Marsh finally moved his gaze from her face to the door…but he looked back at her. The moment he made eye contact with her again, her entire body hummed.
“Here’s your hat. What’s your hurry?”
“No, it isn’t…Listen, I understand that you have more important things to do than show up at my doorstep because some jerk showed up.”
His gaze softened. Constance had never seen that particular look on the sheriff’s face before. Her heart turned over, and another wave of hunger rushed through her veins.
“That’s where you’re wrong, Constance.”
“I am?”
“There’s not anyone more important than you.”
Constance blinked. Did she hear him wrong? Maybe she was hallucinating. This had to be a dream.
“It’s not.”
“What?”
“It’s not a dream. This is real.”
He stepped closer. His bergamot scent surrounded her. It left her achy and dizzy.
“Are you sure?”
He nodded, his gaze still locked with hers.
“I’ve been trying to control myself around you, but I don’t think I can anymore.”
“Why on earth would you want to do that?”
His mouth twitched. “You deserve someone much better than a small-town sheriff.”
“That’s a bunch of bunk. Seriously? You protect your town. You’re a good man who just happens to be crazy good-looking.”
“Your brother-in-law said you come from money.”
She would have a long talk with Simon. “And? What does that even mean? Are you turned off because my idiot family is rich?”
“No, of course not.” He answered immediately, which sent a fresh set of tingles racing through her entire body. Or it could be that insanely baritone of his dancing over the syllables. Or…just him. She just wanted him.
“Then why does your background matter? It’s what’s inside that’s important. You are a good man,” she said once again.
“You wouldn’t think that if you knew how I have been thinking about you.” She opened her mouth to ask him, but he continued. “The things I want to do to your body should be illegal.”
She stepped closer, reaching out to him. Settling a hand on his massive chest felt right…like something clicked into place.
“What kind of things?”
He shook his head. “Constance.”
“Tell me. I’ll be the judge of what is wrong and right.”
He drew in a shuddering breath. “They are filthy thoughts.”
She licked her lips, then dug deep into her soul and gathered the courage to rise to her tiptoes. Brushing her mouth against his, she reveled in the connection that seemed to grow stronger with each second.
Constance pulled back just an inch. “Let’s do some of those filthy things.”