19. Chapter 19
Chapter 19
Arlo
It’s been three days since Rina and I decided to work on our friendship—well, she decided, and I was willing to go along with anything if it meant having her in my life again.
We haven’t seen each other since, and I’m jonesing for some time with her.
“I’ll be back after lunch,” I tell Audrey as I walk out of the office and head across the street to Grind Time.
“Arlo! Where have you been hiding?” Willow asks from behind the counter as Oakley looks up when she calls my name.
“Sheriff.” He nods, and I roll my eyes. It’s now a game that he doesn’t call me Arlo. An argument we’ve had since he moved here. It’s like pulling teeth to get him to call me Arlo. After the Lennox incident, he conceded but now calls me Sheriff to piss me off.
“Your usual today?” Willow asks, chipper as ever, and it starts to grate on my nerves. It’s not her fault I had a rough therapy session last night and everything seems to be getting to me today.
“Umm, yeah, and whatever Rina usually gets.” I should know what she drinks, but avoiding each other for a decade only allows for so much information.
Willow arches an eyebrow at me with a smirk on her face.
“Not a word, Will,” I quip.
She mimes zipping her lips as she rolls them inward, and I look over at Oakley as the same smirk graces his face while he makes our coffee.
Should have known I’d get shit from a simple coffee order.
Oakley hands me our coffees and meets my eye. “Any update on what you brought to my attention?” My eyes shift over to Willow to make sure he knows what I’m talking about. Rina hasn’t told me about anything happening at her place, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t.
“Nothing more, but I’m keeping my ears open. You’ll be the first to know if there’s a new development.”
“God, I hate it when you two talk in code. So annoying,” Willow grumbles as she walks by, and Oakley follows her with love-struck eyes.
And that’s my cue to leave.
I toss a ten on the counter and grab our coffees before leaving.
The drive to Rina’s house only takes about fifteen minutes, and when I pull into her driveway, I glance at her barn, seeing the main door wide open.
Climbing out, for the first time in a long time, my back doesn’t immediately lock up. One injection in, and I’m already seeing a difference. I don’t know why I waited so long.
Walking the long path, I hear a table saw as I get closer. I stop in the open doorway and watch her as she works.
Her usual leggings are wrapped around her long, toned legs. A long-sleeved Sam Houston National Park shirt covers her body, and safety glasses cover her gorgeous blue eyes. I’m transfixed observing her work. I don’t think I’ve ever had the pleasure of just watching her in action, and it’s incredible to witness. The way she confidently makes cuts and knows exactly how a stack of wood can turn into a beautiful piece of furniture is nothing short of impressive.
When she decided this was what she wanted to do with her life in high school, I couldn’t have imagined it would turn into the booming business it has. That’s not because she isn’t fully capable; she absolutely is. She just had a different plan back then.
I’ve always wanted a Rina Hutton piece, but it’s not something you ask your wife who doesn’t know you’re still married for. Plus, my house is not the place for something so meaningful; it’s basically a glorified bachelor pad. Her pieces deserve to be cherished and in a house filled with love.
“You just going to stand there like a creeper all day?” Rina’s voice jolts me out of my reverie, and I almost drop both our coffees.
I feel my cheeks heat as I clear my throat. “Sorry, I didn’t want to startle you.”
Smooth, real smooth, Steel. I internally roll my eyes at myself.
“Well, thank you for that. Is one of those for me?” She nods at the coffee in my hand.
“It is. I don’t know what you usually drink, but Oakley gave me your usual.”
She smirks. “I don’t have a usual.” Stepping forward, she grabs the drink intended for her and takes a sip. The moan after the sip damn near makes me audibly gulp. Maybe this was a bad idea. I’m not sure my body has gotten the message that we’re just friends, and going slow with everything at that.
I take a sip of my own drink just to give myself something to do. She’s so close to me I could just reach out and pull her to me, kiss the hell out of her before she knows what’s hit her. I want to do all of that and more, but I won’t because I’m not a total asshole. Probably still a small one, though.
“So, Sheriff, what brings you by? Just bringing me coffee out of the goodness of your heart?”
My cock twitches when she says Sheriff like that, and I didn’t know that was something that could get me going.
“Noticed you’ve been busy, so I thought I’d stop by and check in. That’s what friends do, right?” I’m honestly asking at this point because I don’t have a fucking clue. All I know is that I wanted to see her, so I made up a reason to.
“Normally, Ainsley just lets herself into my house and starts making me breakfast, but I don’t think the same thing can fly for you.” Her grin grows, and I look back and forth at her eyes.
Is she flirting with me?
It’s apparently been so long since I’ve flirted that I can’t even recognize it. A sad realization that reinforces my poor decisions from the past.
“I’ll … not be doing that,” I finally say. Would I love to eventually? Hell yes, but I’d also like to go to sleep with her at night and wake up with her every morning, so just bursting into her house doesn’t really feel like the end goal for me here.
“Would you like to sit down outside?” She barely hides her laugh.
Nodding, I follow her as she leads us out of a side door I never knew was here, to a small porch overlooking part of the stream on the outskirts of town. It’s gorgeous out here, and I can see why she wanted to live out here. It’s peaceful and hidden away.
Two rocking Adirondack chairs flank a small side table I assume she built. We both take a seat, and I start rocking without a thought .
“I’m not sure if this was the right thing to do. I don’t really know how to do the whole friend thing, but I wanted to see you. Even if it was for something stupid like coffee,” I say. Hiding behind my coffee won’t really move us forward, so being honest feels like the right move.
“Coffee is never stupid, especially from Grind Time.”
I shoot her a look that says ‘you know what I mean’.
She sighs. “I don’t exactly know how to do this either, but I like this. It was a nice surprise.”
We sit quietly, drinking our coffee and looking out at the creek. I’ve been everywhere in this town, and yet somehow, this little piece of Bluebell Falls Rina has claimed is almost as soothing as our spot at the falls. I wouldn’t ever leave if this was my house.
“It’s gorgeous out here,” I murmur.
“It is. Ever since Willow and Lennox graduated high school, I had my eye on this plot of land. It’s the perfect mix of ‘close enough to town‘ and ‘has enough space to build my shop on’. And then the creek, being close to the water, it’s what sold me.”
“You’ve done amazing things, Rina,” I tell her earnestly.
“Why, thank you. I think so too. Although, lately, I’ve been taking on too many jobs. I never really thought about what would happen if I started getting more than steady jobs. I mean, I’m only one person, and I think I forget that sometimes when I take on commissions,” she muses.
I make a mental note to figure out how to help her with that if I can.
“What about you?” she asks. “What made you come back here and take over the job of sheriff?”
“Felt like the right thing to do. After Uncle Charlie died, I had no plans to come back, but Old Man Walters heard through some obscure grapevine that I was out and offered me the job since he was long past wanting to retire. It all just naturally fell into place.”
“And do you like it?” A simple question, but one I’ve never actually asked myself.
“I do,” I say after I mull it over. “I didn’t think I would, mainly because I always expected to retire an officer, but there’s never a dull day here.” She laughs in agreement. “I honestly didn’t expect to be so busy all the time.” It’s true. I expected small town problems, not a town full of talkers who make up problems every single day.
“I don’t think I ever thanked you for getting Lennox out of that cabin.” Her voice softens as my spine stiffens.
“No thanks needed.” I can hear the shift in my tone, but this isn’t something I want or expected to talk about.
“I think it’s needed. It rocked our world and continues to do so, but you got him out when things could have gone downhill fast. And now, knowing about your back, I just … need you to know how much I see what you did.”
“What brought this on?” I deflect.
“Self-examination?” she asks like she’s unsure if it’s the right answer. “I realized I have a tendency to shove all of my emotions down, so I’ve been working on that. It also made me realize that we’ve talked to Oakley and Lennox about all things Tennison, but I don’t think anyone has told you how thankful we are that you were there. I wanted to change that.”
Stunned. I feel stunned, and I’m having trouble accepting her thanks. I didn’t do enough so her thanks feels … misplaced.
Another thing to work on in therapy, I suppose.
“Thank you,” I whisper. It’s a positive step for me, although I still am uncomfortable with any praise relating to what went down in that cabin .
“What are you working on right now?” Moving on to a less serious topic helps me save face. If we continue talking about Lennox and Tennison, I know I’ll break, or worse, take my insecurities out on her and I refuse to do that.
Her audible sigh sounds tired. “Let’s see… This week, I’m finishing up a dining room set for a sweet couple in Rosedale. I also started this super adorable picnic table with a matching kid-sized one for a family all the way in Austin. They’re coming to pick that up, though, so at least I don’t have to stress about delivery.”
“If you ever need help on deliveries, let me know, or if you don’t want to be alone doing it for whatever reason." I offer more for myself because I hate not knowing who she’s delivering to. It could be anyone, and anything could happen to her.
“Gee, thanks, Sheriff .” She smirks.
“I’m serious, Rina. If you ever feel the slightest bit unsafe or unsure, just call me.”
“I will,” she concedes. “Are you this over-protective with all of your friends?”
I shoot her an annoyed look. “What friends?” I joke, but the truth of the statement hits me hard.
We stare at each other. The sadness in her eyes makes me wish I didn’t say that. My hand slides over to hers, and I hold it in a firm grip. Her eyes dart to our hands, and when they look back up at me, the heat I see throws me, but I can’t say I’m upset about it.
“You could stop by again and bring me coffee whenever you want to get away from the office,” she offers with a twinkle in her eye.
“Oh, could I? And what do I get out of this generous gift?” I smirk, still holding her hand .
“Hmm, that’s a tough one,” she muses. “There are quite a lot of options. I could … teach you how to use some power tools.”
Shocked laughter escapes me. Her innuendo does not go unnoticed.
“Your power tools? What makes you think I need any help with that?”
“I don’t know. Maybe there’s some new way I do things that would really work for you.” She bursts out laughing like she’s shocked she even said that.
I still don’t stand a chance with this woman. Somehow, we can go from serious conversation to sexual innuendos at the drop of a hat, and I fucking love it.
“I like your versions of friends,” I chuckle.
Her smile drops a little, and I internally curse myself for saying it.
“We already established I don’t know how to do this, and although I firmly believe we need to work on our friendship before anything happens—if anything else happens—you’re really good in bed and sometimes my brain wanders, and we land on shitty sexual overtones.” She cringes, but I love her blunt honesty.
“Friendship is whatever we say it is, Rina. And lucky for you, I happen to love sexual innuendos.” I wink.
She squeezes the hand that’s still holding hers before letting go and taking a final swig from her coffee cup.
“Well, I think this is a sign that I need to get back to work before that moves from suggestive jokes to fucking me over my workbench.” She stands up, but I stay seated, shocked and picturing the exact image she just put in my head. My dick hardens in my jeans, and I adjust without a second thought. When I look up, her eyes are where my hand was, and I tip my head back and groan .
“I’m going. You can’t say shit like that and then not expect me to react, Marina.” I groan, scrubbing my hand over my face.
“Yep, you know how to get to your truck.” She turns on her heel then calls over her shoulder, “Thanks for the coffee and the … conversation.”
I watch her walk through the side door, a mumbled, “Keep your head off his penis, Rina. Jesus,” reaching my ear before I chuckle.
Dear God, friendship with my wife just might be the death of me.