Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
Ellie
I’m still trembling as I tuck my harp into its padded case. My fingers know the motions—reset the pedals, cover the strings—but my mind is somewhere else entirely. On a hot silver fox wearing the sexiest uniform I’ve ever seen.
That sheriff. Mmmmm.
I can’t stop picturing him at the edge of the crowd, arms crossed over his massive chest, dark eyes never wavering from me, not even once. Even now, I can still feel them on my tingling skin.
“Let’s get going,” Sloane says as she quickly packs up her violin. “I want to get back to the inn.”
“What’s the rush?” Tessa asks. “I want to get a corndog from the food truck.”
“She wants to FaceTime with her fiancé,” Mira says with a grin.
“Why can’t you do that here?” Tessa asks.
Mira rolls her eyes. “Because they want to be naked while they do it.”
“Can we just go?” Sloane says with a huff. “Thomas has to leave for work soon.”
“I guess I can eat in town,” Tessa says with her shoulders slumping. “I wish I had a fiancé to FaceTime naked with.”
That makes two of us.
“I just have to use the bathroom,” I say as my bladder sounds the alarm once again. “I’ll be right back.”
I saw the Town Hall building while I was on stage, so I run toward that instead of the porta-potties. There’s got to be a bathroom in there.
As I make my way across the crowded field, I look around for Mr. Hot Sheriff, but I don’t spot him.
Where did he go?
There’s no sign of him anywhere. Maybe if I start screaming ‘HELP’ at the top of my lungs, he’ll come running…
Pull it together, Ellie.
I shake that ridiculous thought out of my head and head into the building through a side door. There’s a few locked offices and bingo, a sign to the bathroom.
A few heavenly moments later, I’m washing up while trying to remember if I saw a wedding ring on the Sheriff’s big strong hand.
Maybe he’s single? I think as I dry my hands and open the door. Maybe he’s—
“Oh shit!”
I walk right into Cooter. He’s blocking the doorway with a devious grin on his face.
Oh no…
I’m forced back into the bathroom as he walks in like he owns the place.
My stomach turns. This is not good.
“This is the women’s bathroom, Cooter.” The very empty, very secluded women’s bathroom.
My pulse starts racing as I look around for another exit. There isn’t one.
He gives me a sleazy grin, showing off that crooked gold tooth. Is that seriously supposed to impress anyone? That gold tooth isn’t fooling anyone when he’s wearing a sweat-stained trucker hat and a ripped T-shirt that smells like old fryer oil.
“Sweetheart,” he drawls, eyes crawling over me as he leans on the door. “You sure do look pretty when you’re playin’ that big ol’ harp.”
I want to be sick. “Leave me alone. You’re not allowed in here.”
“Aw, don’t be like that.” He pushes off the door, coming closer. “I just wanted a minute with ya. One-on-one. You an’ me.”
I step back toward the sinks, heart hammering. “You need to leave.”
He chuckles, a low creepy sound that makes my skin crawl. “Can’t a man pay a lady a compliment? You’re so uptight. Bet you’d be real sweet once you loosened up.”
“I’m not interested.” My voice comes out steadier than I feel. “Go. Now.”
He doesn’t go. He reaches out and grabs my arm, fingers digging in hard enough to sting. “Don’t be like that, sweetheart. You liked it when I was watchin’ you. I could tell.”
“No, I didn’t.” My heart spikes. “Let go of me.”
His smile twists into something meaner. “Maybe you just need a man to—”
I slap him across the face. Hard.
The crack echoes off the tiled walls.
“Help!” I scream as loud as I can. “Help!”
His head snapped sideways from the slap and when he turns back, his eyes are darker and meaner.
“You’re going to regret that,” he hisses.
I wince and close my eyes as he raises his arm to slap me.
But the hit never comes.
The door bursts open and a bigger hand catches his wrist midair.
I gasp.
The Sheriff.
He looks even larger up close. Even with everything happening, that’s the first thought that goes through my head.
I swallow hard as I stare up at his broad muscular frame towering over me and Cooter.
His uniform is strained tight across his massive imposing chest. The tight sleeves are gripping his jacked arms as he squeezes Cooter’s wrist like a vice.
He looks so dominant. So in control. There’s not an ounce of fear in those sexy brown eyes.
“You were about to hit her?” His voice is a low growl, dangerous and cold.
Cooter screams as the Sheriff adds some pressure. His knees buckle, but the Sheriff doesn’t let go. “I wasn’t!” Cooter stammers. “I swear!”
The Sheriff wraps his free hand around Cooter’s neck and slams him into the tiled wall so hard the paper towel dispenser rattles. “Don’t lie to me,” he growls in his face. “I know men like you. Men who think they can take an angel like her and do whatever evil shit they want.”
Cooter’s eyes bulge as the Sheriff squeezes his neck harder.
“Not in my town,” the Sheriff hisses. “Not with my girl.”
My cheeks bloom with heat when I hear him calling me his girl. That can’t be what he meant. Can it?
“If I ever see you in the Greene Mountains again,” he continues. “If you ever so much as look at that angel again…” His jaw clenches as the image runs through his mind.
“Watch out!” I screech when I spot Cooter’s hand sliding into his pocket. He pulls out a pocket knife, but the Sheriff handles it easily. He slaps it away and then knees Cooter in the stomach so hard the creep bends in two. The Sheriff kicks the knife away and it slides under the bathroom stall.
“You’re under arrest, you fucking prick,” he says as he lifts him up, spins him around, and pins his cheek to the wall. He does it so easily. Like Cooter is a child.
“That bitch slapped me,” Cooter grunts as his cheek is being pressed against the tiles by the Sheriff’s thick forearm.
“Call her a bitch again,” the Sheriff growls as he adds some pressure. “I fucking dare you too.”
Maybe Cooter is not as dumb as he looks because he stays silent.
“You’re lucky all you’re getting is cuffs,” the Sheriff says as he yanks Cooter’s arm behind him with one fluid motion. The metallic click of handcuffs is the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard.
“Emmanuel,” the Sheriff says into the radio on his shoulder. “Got a carnie in custody in the women’s bathroom in the Town Hall. Come get him.”
Static crackles, then Emmanuel’s voice: “On my way.”
Cooter squirms and curses a string of expletives, but the Sheriff stays calm and in complete control. His hand stays wrapped around the redneck’s arm like concrete.
My heart is pounding when we make eye contact again, but I’m not sure if it was from the close call or from something else.
“You okay, angel?” he asks, dark eyes softening just enough to make my knees weak.
I nod my head, not trusting my voice. The sight of this silver fox holding Cooter like he’s nothing has my whole body humming.
This man is pure authority. He’s protective. Possessive. A real alpha. Not some loser who cosplays as an alpha on the internet. This man lives and breathes that title. It’s effortless for him.
“I… yeah.” My voice trembles. “Thank you.”
He tilts his head, scanning me for injuries. “Did he hurt you?”
“I didn’t do shit,” Cooter wails. “That bitch slapped me! I fucking told you.”
“I warned you,” the Sheriff says in a low, lethal tone.
He looks like he’s about to do something violent when a giant cop with biceps the size of boulders comes barreling in. That must be the cop he called—Emmanuel.
The Sheriff squeezes his fist, takes a deep breath, and shoves Cooter into Emmanuel’s arms. “Take him to the station.”
Emmanuel looks at his boss, and then at me, and then back to his boss. “You okay?” he asks.
“Get him out of my sight or you’ll have to carry him out of here,” the Sheriff growls.
“You got it,” Emmanuel says as he pulls him out, ‘accidentally’ bumping him into the doorframe.
I take a breath of relief now that he’s gone.
It’s just me and the hot Sheriff and the echo of my pulse in my ears.
“Are you okay?” he asks, those brown eyes full of kindness and worry.
I nod, but the trembling starts. It’s probably just nerves or adrenaline, but my hands are shaking.
He reaches out and touches my arm. It calms some of the trembling and makes me feel better. “Did he hurt you?”
“No, but he was going to.” My voice is all shaky as I look up at him. “Then you came.”
He bends down a little, his intense eyes locked on mine. “That won’t happen again. Not while I’m breathing. I won’t let anyone touch you.”
I swallow hard when I see the sincerity in his eyes. He means it. Who is this man?
“What’s your name, angel?”
“Ellie,” I say.
He steps closer, not crowding me but close enough that I can smell his woodsy cologne. His hand brushes my elbow—just a touch, but it sends a tingle up my arm.
“You were so brave,” he says, his voice low and gentle. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”
“I’m okay.” I’m saying it both to myself and to him. “Because of you.”
“You did the right thing.”
“Slapping him?”
He grins. “Making noise.” His gaze drops to my mouth for a dangerous heartbeat. “I heard you.”
I swallow hard.
“I’m sure you clocked him good,” he says with a chuckle. “He’ll think twice about messing with you again.”
Yeah, because I have a hunky Sheriff protector now.
“Thank you for… hearing me.”
His hand is still on my elbow. His thumb moves once—just a soft stroke, barely there—and my knees threaten to give out.
“I saw you up there,” he says quietly as he removes his hand. “On the stage. You were…” He exhales like it costs him. “…magnificent.”
“I saw you too,” I say, heat flooding my cheeks. “You were watching me.”
“I couldn’t look away.” His jaw clenches. “You put on a mesmerizing show.”
My breath hitches. For a heartbeat, the whole world shrinks to his deep alluring eyes, his hand still warm on my arm, the smell of him—intoxicatingly masculine.