Chapter Fifteen
Marlowe
I can't stop smiling. I just can't. I also have a permanent blush on my cheeks, as if everyone in town knows what I did with their sheriff and what he did to me.
If I thought the morning after would be awkward, I didn't have time to worry.
Zephyr made love to me one more time before he left for the office.
That evening, I was waiting for him at my house, and as soon as he walked in, we tore each other's clothes off and barely made it to my bedroom. It's been like that for days now.
We'd hungrily take our fill from each other's bodies, then talk quietly into the night. I love every minute of it.
Tonight, though, I offered to cook him dinner, like civilians do, at my place, where we would sit at the table, eat our food from plates, and drink wine from glasses instead of in bed from pizza boxes and lasagna from foil containers. We at least have to try being normal once.
I can't really cook, but I said I could. What I meant was I could try. I'm going to give it my best shot.
I've already shopped for steak; now I'm in the produce aisle of the supermarket, hand-picking potatoes as if I know which ones are the prized ones.
"Oh, hi. Ms. Evans, is it?" A tall, lanky man with a bag of apples and a bag of bananas stops me.
I've come to know quite a few people around here.
Besides my book club girls, who are fabulous, I've also had conversations with Horace the brewer, managed to placate Mabel Rose into thinking I'm good people, and met sisters Polly Anne and Maggie Jane—Candy Creek's hottest widows.
Apparently, I'm not supposed to know, but they have a bet going on about who can bag the sheriff.
I've been sworn to secrecy by Claudia Henry, the hairdresser, who gave me this juicy tidbit, and I will take it to the grave.
"Settling in all right?" the tall man asks.
"Yes, thank you so much. I don't think we've met before?"
"Of course. Sorry. I'm Peter, Peter from Pest Control. Pest Control Peter. I can't seem to get the name right. Anyway, no problems at the house?"
"Hi, Peter. Nice to meet you. And no, I'm surprised. I expected to find some creepy crawlies, but no—well, except for the stupid... I mean Benjamin Lawrence, who likes to make an appearance in my bed every now and again."
"Ah, Benjamin, good fellow. Well, good, good. If you're not happy with anything or find out about other pests, I'm happy to come back and sort you out."
"I'm sorry, come back? Did Turner Richard hire you?"
"Oh no. That one is a sly one. The sheriff called me in the middle of the night, told me to get everything out of the house, and gave us a few hours to do it."
"The sheriff? Sheriff Smith?"
"Oh dear. I have a feeling I wasn't supposed to say anything. Anyway, good day."
"Wait, how much do I owe you, Peter, for the pest control?"
"Oh, the sheriff took care of it. Crap. He told me not to spill my mouth, and I kind of did exactly that."
Peter sighs and chews his lip.
"Oh, don't worry about it. It's all good. You have a good day, Peter's Pest Control."
I digest this latest information right there in the produce section, and now I really can't stop smiling.
I pay for my groceries, and lo and behold, who do I run into on the sidewalk?
My God, the man is so handsome I want to tackle him to the ground and have my way with him.
I set my bags down on a bench and close the distance between us, my breath labored and my body going into overdrive as he strips me of my summer dress with his gaze alone.
"Why did you arrest me that night?" I ask immediately, throwing him off because I love doing that.
"You broke the law." His frown deepens, making him even sexier.
"You wouldn't have arrested anyone else in that situation. So why me?"
"I was doing my job. What's this about?"
"Hmm... I had a very interesting conversation with Peter from Peter's Pest Control—"
He grabs me before I can say anything further and crushes his mouth to mine, kissing me senseless right there for everyone to see.
"Oh no, you don't try to distract me like that," I say, pushing him away and meeting a concrete wall that emits intense heat instead.
"You knew there were things living in that house, and you didn't want me to see them because you deduced, I really don't like anything that moves on four legs. So you arrested me."
"I arrested you and put you in a goddamn cell because if I took you home with me, and you gave me the slightest bit of encouragement, Marlowe, I wouldn't have been able to keep my hands off you," he says roughly into my ear. Butterflies flutter in my stomach.
"Oh, you like me, Sheriff Smith, you really truly like me," I tease, deliriously happy.
"I more than like you, Marlowe Evans. I fucking love—"
"Woohoo, oh woohoo, Sheriff Smith! We're so glad we caught up with you. You've been avoiding us, you naughty boy."
I barely register Polly Anne and Maggie Jane sliding up to the sheriff, bumping into him bosom first. My gaze is locked with his.
I can't breathe. Heat rises to my skin. My world ignites, and the axis under my feet spins me into another dimension. Zephyr's gaze remains locked with mine, drawing me into the dark forest green of his eyes.
The sisters are telling him something about their cat caught between the bars of the railing in their house, and they were just on their way to the fire station, but since they bumped into him, can he be their hero and rescue them all, including their cat, as they try to drag him away?
"Marlowe, Marlowe, there you are." In a daze, two sets of hands pull me along. It's my book club girls. I vaguely remember we had a tea date to pick our next book to read. I nod distractedly when Hollyn asks if the bags on her bench are mine before she grabs them for me.
In the echoes of my mind, I also hear them greeting the sheriff before we're both pulled away from each other, but we don't lose our visual connection—not until it becomes impossible to maintain.
"Marlowe," Zoe says with concern in her voice. "You okay?"
"Yes," I croak, then try again with a smile on my face. "Yes. Let's do this," I add with more enthusiasm, but my heart won't stop thudding against my chest, and it takes a herculean effort to act normal.
The one thing that stays in my mind is the look of utter regret in Zephyr's eyes when he said the 'l' word, as if he wanted to take it back.