Chapter Two
Zephyr
If I didn't know what to do with her five minutes ago, I know now.
The only reason the cottage is still visible and not engulfed in weeds and vines is that the neighbors, the Blooms, take it upon themselves to tend to the land so it isn't a complete eyesore.
The room we're standing in seems clean enough, but there's no hiding the peeling paint, the leaking roof, and the rundown walls—not to mention the state of the interior.
Something tells me she doesn't know the half of what else is living in this house she just bought. She would come daylight.
I know Turner Richards. He's a piece of work. He may have cleaned up the surface some, but that's all he did. Fuck.
"Ms. Evans, my name is Zephyr Smith. I'm the county sheriff here in Candy Creek, and I'm placing you under arrest."
"What?" she says, a confused, nervous laugh escaping her lips, her smile unsure.
"Disturbance of the peace. Attempted murder."
"Disturbance of the peace? Attempted murder?" she repeats, her incredulity growing.
"Ma'am, you disturbed my peace. And you tried to kill our national treasure."
"What national treasure?"
"Benjamin Lawrence."
"Okay, I have no idea what's going on. Please explain it to me like I'm five years old."
"Benjamin Lawrence, the animal you threatened with bodily harm, is Candy Creek's national treasure. He's protected, and anyone seeking to harm him faces the full force of the law."
"It's a rat," she says, cringing as she pronounces each word distinctly.
"It's not a rat. It's an otter. And he has a name: Benjamin Lawrence. I'm also adding assault on a law enforcement officer to your misdemeanors."
She opens her mouth and gasps at me, her lips forming a perfect O. I enjoy the silence.
"I didn't assault you," she protests. "You're literally six-four or six-five. I could be half your weight for goodness' sake. Where? Where could I have possibly assaulted you?"
"Ma'am, you grabbed and then continued to fondle my balls. That is assault in these parts."
"I was going for your gun, oh my god," she squeals.
"And now I'll add attempted robbery of a law enforcement officer as well."
"This is insane. There was a rat in my bed. A rat in my bed. I touched it. It was wet and—"
"It's an otter."
"They're literally the same thing," she wails, full of conviction.
"One is a mustelid, and the other is a murid."
"It was self-defense."
"Tell that to the judge. Turn around, please. Unless you want to add resisting arrest to your rap sheet?"
"You're insane," she says, nodding enthusiastically. "Utterly insane, and yes, any judge worth their bench is going to think the same."
I spin her around and handcuff her wrists behind her. She's back in my personal space again, her body as hot as it was before when I held her against me.
I march her out of the bedroom of the single-story house and straight to my car. The scent of her is all over me now, and fuck, it seems to be flowing through my veins. How am I going to get it off me?
With the door slammed and her shut inside my vehicle, I rub my hand down my face and exhale.
"I'm a lawyer, you know," she says from the back seat as soon as I climb into the car. By the sound of it, I can't tell if she's convincing herself or me.
"Ma'am, this is my town. You follow my rules when you're here."
"I'm going to sue you for everything you're worth, right down to those ugly, scruffy boots on your feet."
I glance at her through the rearview mirror.
"My mom made these for me before she died," I say solemnly.
"I... I didn't know. I'm so sorry... I... I’m so sorry..."
It was worth seeing her face go from complete outrage to embarrassment to sincere empathy. Then I chuckled.
"Oh my gosh. You're the first sheriff I've ever come across and the worst."
I'm just doing my job, I tell myself. If she were six-foot-eight, a guy with a beard and a Harley parked outside, I'd do the same thing. I'm the law around these parts, and she broke it. That's what I keep telling myself.
"Look, I'm new here, okay? I don't know the rules yet. I didn't know that thing was a national treasure," she says after a few moments of silence.
"That thing is sixteen years old and the most beloved member of our town. His name is Benjamin Lawrence. Show some respect."
"Okay, okay. I'm sorry. No disrespect, but it...Benjamin Lawrence came after me."
"What are you doing here?"
"In this car? I'm being arrested by a truly obnoxious, clearly bored county sheriff after being viciously attacked by a disgus—a—by their national treasure."
"No, I mean in Candy Creek."
"I just told you I bought the Richards house."
"Yes, why?"
"Maybe I wanted some fresh air. Is that a crime? Or wait, it probably is around here where you're the law."
I pull up in front of the sheriff's office, smack between the best pizza place in town and Gertie's hair salon.
Hot blood rushes through my veins. I have to touch her again. I need her near me again. I brush all that aside, help her out of the car, and guide her into the office.
Deputy Raj looks momentarily stunned at the sight of us before he jumps up from his chair and proceeds to fumble.
"Take the night off, Raj," I tell him, but he doesn't hear me. His eyes are glued to my little criminal.
What the fuck is wrong with the men in this town tonight? It's like they've never seen a beautiful woman before in their lives.
"Umm...I... I... Is there anything I can do to help, Sheriff?"
"I got this," I say, using the tone that requires no further explanation as I place her in the holding cell.
"You can help me. This is an unlawful arrest," she says as I lock her in.
"It's not. Go home." Damn this woman for making me repeat myself.
"Right, yes, Sheriff. I'll see you tomorrow. Ma'am," he says, almost bowing to her. What in the hell?
I glare at him until he scrambles out of the office.
"You can't keep me here," she says, rattling the bars.
It's going to be a long night. But then I do the fucking unthinkable. I go into my office and grab my pillow and blanket—my extra blanket, the ones I use when I fall asleep in the office.
"Please don't try to escape," I warn her as I unlock the door, and thankfully she calculates her chances and stays put.
I lay the thickest blanket onto the cot, set the pillow down, arrange the other blanket on top, and then lock her in again. She should be using the lumpy pillow and scratchy blanket, the standard jail linen packed in the steel cabinet inside the cell.
But on the bright side, city girls don't last in towns like Candy Creek. I give Ms. Chaos less than a week before she ups and leaves. Then peace and quiet will be mine again.