I shook my head. "I doubt it. They've probably activated the phone tree and alerted everyone to prioritize the other bachelors this evening."
"Ah, got it," she replied, bobbing her head. "They know I'm here. I figured the mother hens would keep eyes on you, sheriff, but I had no idea they were spoon-feeding you, too. It's making me rethink the muffins and pies I've sent your way."
"Don't say that," I murmured. "I love your baking but it's a distant second to you."
She laughed and flattened both hands on the countertop. It reminded me of her hand on my cock. I couldn't help it. We'd shared nothing more than a few minutes in my office, but in my mind every second stretched on for hours. I remembered the heat of her palm, the tight curl of her fingers around my shaft, the confident way she stroked me. It was amazing—shewas amazing—and I'd pumped the brakes.
Oh, how I'd regretted that decision. I regretted it when I went to sleep, aching and alone. When I woke up painfully hard. When I jerked off in the shower. When I glanced out my office window at her shop. Basically, all day and all night.
"Did you hear me?" Annette asked, forcing me out of my memories.
"No, I'm sorry," I said, running a hand down my face. "What did you say?"
She peered at me, her lips pursed as if she was holding back a laugh. "I said, does it bother you that people know I'm here? That they're forming their own conclusions and spreading it up and down the seacoast?"
Shaking my head before she finished speaking, I replied, "No. Not at all. Does it bother you?"
It wasn't until then that I realized I didn't mind the constant gaze of the townspeople if it meant I could steal time with Annette. Just a few days ago I was worried about keeping a squeaky-clean reputation but how could this be wrong? Sure, my thoughts were dark, filthy sins but my neighbors didn't have to know that.
I'd also considered that I couldn't court Annette's attention without getting serious as required by the "no tomcat sheriffs" rule around here. But I wasn't concerned about that now. I didn't have a different woman in my house each night and the serious part didn't scare me. Not anymore. If anything, I craved it. Seeing Annette out in the village or busy in her shop drove me mad. I could look but I couldn't touch.
I wanted the right to go to her, to be with her, to call her mine.
"It doesn't bother me because people talk about people all the time. It's just what they do around here," she said. "It's no different from anywhere else. We all know each other so it seems like everyone is meddling in each other's lives. They're not. It's the same as everyone in a circle of friends talking about each other. I don't mind the talking. I get it. It's human nature."
I blinked, waiting for the "but." Because it was coming. Her tone was too hesitant for any other word to follow.
"But"—and there it was—"I don't want to give people the wrong idea. I know I can't control anyone's ideas but I don't want anyone getting carried away with some notion that we're, you know, a thing."
I set my knife down and watched her. "And that would be a problem?"
"Maybe not a problem," she said, a little exasperated. "But a situation."
"And you're not ready for another situation?" I asked.
She gave a curt shake of her head but didn't meet my eyes, instead kept her focus on the cutting board. "No. Not entirely," she said.
I grabbed a dish towel, needing something to keep my hands occupied. "No situations," I said. I wound the fabric around my palm like a tourniquet. It was all I could do to hold back the argument burning on my tongue. "That's not a problem, Annie. I don't need any situations either."
We ate outsideon the back patio, flanked by citronella candles to keep the bugs at bay. Annette was quiet, more than I'd expected. Then again, few of my expectations panned out when it came to her. I'd wanted her to curl up in my arms and let me protect her from everything beyond us, but she didn't want that. Not yet.
Annette pointed to a thin beam of light to the south with her fork. "That's the old Talbott's Cove lighthouse. Owen Bartlett took it over when he bought the land where it sits."
"Is that so?" I asked. Discussing Captain Bartlett—and Annette's relationship with him—wasn't my preferred topic.
"Yeah," she murmured, oblivious to my displeasure. "Up on the hill, overlooking the town, is the Markham house. You can see the roofline from here, and the flag pole, too. Their property extends way back into the woods. There's a dairy barn out there, a bunch of old cabins, even a cemetery. Their family has lived on that land for centuries. Judge Markham retired about five years ago and he wasn't thrilled about that. It's a complicated situation with him. His daughter Brooke—she's an only child—moved home from New York City not too long ago."
I allowed her to ramble as if she was telling me something new. I'd made it my business to know every patch of land and resident in this town, and enough about their comings and goings to know when something wasn't right.
I knew about Bartlett's billionaire houseguest within hours of him arriving in the Cove. I had an eye on the Nevilles' inn, too. I was still piecing together the whole story but I knew they'd survived a gruesome attack that killed Cleo Neville's immediate family years ago, and one of the perpetrators was still at large. I'd been keeping extremely close tabs on the Fitzsimmonses' property. There was no telling when their son would leave rehab and I wanted to be prepared. I was hoping for the best and rooting for the kid to kick his addiction once and for all, but I also knew the reality of the opioid epidemic. I'd seen it in Albany and I was seeing it here, and it wasn't getting any better.
"And over there is the mouth of Dickerson Creek, which used to be part of the old Dickerson Farmstead," she continued, gesturing toward the forest. "The high school kids hike up there in the summer and drink beer after Eskimo King closes down for the night. The Creek, not the Farmstead, that is."
"Thanks for the clarification."
"Anytime," she replied, tipping back her beer. "I know this is a small town but there's a lot more than meets the eye."
"Do you doubt my ability to handle the town's safety?" I asked with a chuckle.
