“Since you’re leery of my job, tell me about yours.”
“Which one? Teaching or my almost-job as a Hooker Elf in a creepy Christmas porno?”
“I meant teaching, but since you mentioned it… what the fuck happened, Saoirse?”
“I don’t know!” she cries. “I answered an ad for an elf. I sent a resumé and everything. The man who called me never even hinted that it was going to be a shitshow instead of an actual Elf gig. I should have known better when I picked up the costume.” The irritation in her voice would be cute if the whole situation wasn’t so fucked.
“Where’d you find the ad?”
“In the classified section of the paper.”
“You remember when?”
“Last Saturday. Why?”
“So I can let the sheriff know. Just in case.”
“You really think he’ll come looking for me?”
“I doubt it, but I’d rather loop Dillon in so he can track him down and handle it than do nothing and risk it,” I murmur, moving the bucket further back.
“Will I have to do a report?” she asks, her tone rife with worry. “I’d rather not have the whole town knowing what happened. The school might fire me, and I need my job.”
“I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen,” I promise. People in this town are great, but even great people can be assholes when their kids are involved. She didn’t do anything wrong, but the truth doesn’t always save you. If she’s worried about her job, I’ll ensure Dillon doesn’t involve her in any official capacity. He can shut the prick down without naming her.
Her shoulders slump with relief, but the worried glint in her eyes doesn’t really go away. Not until Bishop comes running in, breathing hard.
“We need you,” he growls.
“What happened?” I’m on my feet in an instant, hauling the bucket out from beneath Betsy.
Saoirse steps closer to me, like she’s nervous. I could tell her that there’s no reason. With his size and the tattoos covering most of his body, Bishop may look like he could go three rounds with the meanest bull there is, but he’s mostly harmless. But I like the way she seeks me out for safety. I like knowing she trusts me to keep her safe. It’s a damn good sign.
“A car hit part of the fence overnight. Whoever was driving didn’t bother to let us know. Now, we’ve got a dozen heifers on the lam.”
“Jesus Christ,” I growl, pinching the bridge of my nose. My gaze flickers to Saoirse. “Sugar Plum…”
“It’s fine,” she says, instantly waving me off. “I can find my way back to the house. You need to go rescue your cows.”
I step closer to her, tipping her head back until she meets my gaze. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“Okay,” she whispers.
I dip my head, brushing my lips across hers. I can’t fucking help it. Her eyes are bottomless, and she’s so goddamn sweet. I need a taste. Just a little one.
She gasps softly, trembling slightly.
I flick my tongue against her bottom lip, groan, and then wrench myself away before I say fuck it and press her up against the wall of the barn.
“I’ll be back,” I growl, stomping away before I talk myself into staying right here.
“Be careful,” she murmurs.
By the timewe manage to wrangle all the missing cows and repair the fence, it’s after midnight. I stumble inside the house, every goddamn muscle aching and sore, hoping that Saoirse is waiting up for me.
Unfortunately for me, she isn’t. The house is dark, the only light coming from the kitchen. I peel my shirt off, tossing it toward the laundry room before I stride that way, my stomach growling.
I come to a dead stop when I see the covered plate on the table, alongside a note.
