She narrowed her gaze on me, but she must’ve seen the steely glint in my eyes proving that I wasn’t in the mood for her shenanigans today, because she turned away without another word and spat some nonsense into the phone I couldn’t be bothered to pay attention to.
Not when I had one mission while I was here—remove Luna from the location and make her agree to stay out of trouble by whatever means necessary.
Images of a naked Luna, spread out and handcuffed to my bed, flashed through my mind, and I had to clench my teeth against them. My dick didn’t seem to care that she was a royal pain in my ass and dead set on making my life a living hell. It only cared that she was soft and beautiful, feisty and wild, with the kind of curves a man wouldn’t get sick of, even after a lifetime.
Fortunately, though, I hadn’t been ruled by my dick since I was fourteen, and I had no intention of reverting to that now.
CHAPTERTHREE
LUNA
Brady’spolished black shoes stopped just in my line of sight, and I roved my gaze up the long, muscled lines of his body, not stopping until I met his sea-glass green eyes. Because the Universe apparently had a sick sense of humor, the man looked like a walking sex god, all broad shoulders and thick biceps, dark, messy hair, and a trimmed beard just long enough that I’d definitely fantasized about what it’d feel like against my inner thighs.
Too bad he was such a buzzkill. He was so rigid, so controlled, he probably couldn’t even let loose during sex. I bet it was all missionary, lights off, straight to business. Going down on a woman was out of the question, no doubt. Far too messy.
Before I could ponder what else he wouldn’t do in the bedroom, he squatted down in front of me and set a to-go cup I knew was from the diner on the ground next to him. He pulled out a takeout container from the bag he carried and opened it. And then the bastard waved it under my nose, allowing the mouthwatering aroma to drift toward me.
“Did Beck make that food for me?” I asked, trying to contain the drool threatening to escape my mouth.
Since I’d arrived in Starlight Cove, I’d made it one of my missions to open the chef’s eyes to all the varied possibilities of offering an expanded menu. A farm-to-table type thing with vegetarian options. Doing so would appeal to more diners. And, well, if the newer offerings were more sustainable and helped the local farmers and economy, all the better.
“Not sure I’d go so far as to call this food…” He looked at the breakfast in disgust.
I leaned forward as much as my chains would allow and peered into the container, and I couldn’t stop my mouth from watering. Yep, just as I suspected. My favorite.
He was playing hardball, but I could too.
“I’ll make you a deal, Sheriff. Give me the omelet, and you can have the drink.” I tipped my chin toward what had to be my morning cocktail—green juice consisting of wheatgrass, kale, spinach, pineapple, cucumber, and ginger.
“I’m not sure what gives you the impression that you’re in a position to bargain. Besides, I’d rather drink toilet water than whatever that shit is.” Brady settled the to-go container on his knee, just out of my reach. “Doesn’t matter anyway, because I’m keeping it all until you unchain yourself.”
I narrowed my eyes on him. This slick son of a bitch knew exactly where to hit me so it’d hurt. He talked with his family daily, and Beck had probably let him know I hadn’t been by that morning, so he was here to feed off my weaknesses—namely that I hadn’t eaten since yesterday. I was strictly a three-to-four meal a day kind of person, and I’d already failed to get in first and second breakfast. Brady might be ruled by order, but I was ruled by my stomach, and he clearly knew that. Said stomach took that moment to let me know of its disapproval. Loudly.
Normally, I wasn’t so easily swayed. It took a lot more than a bribe that made my mouth water to get me to walk away from something I believed in, but this day was already shaping up to be a dead end for the foreman, considering the forecast called for an eighty-five percent chance of rain, and I’d already felt the soft sprinkling of showers beginning. A rain-soaked ground would keep them from moving forward today. As for tomorrow… Well, I’d be right back here to do this all over again.
When I didn’t respond, Brady just raised a single brow. I’d never seen this man look anything but two things—pissed off or irritated—but right then, if I didn’t know better, I’d say he looked downright smug. How he managed all three while looking like a cover model forGrumps Weekly, I had no idea.
With a sigh, I reached into the front of my sweatshirt, not missing the way his gaze fell to the low-cut scoop of my neckline, his eyes heating for a moment before darting away. “Fine. But this isn’t over. You know I’ll just be right back here tomorrow morning. And the day after that. And the day after that.”
“What happened to your resolve?” a woman called from somewhere off to my left. “What about the animals? You’re just giving up, and for what? Some eggs?”
Brady snapped his gaze in the direction of the voice, and I watched with poorly placed fascination as his jaw ticked, his thick fingers curling around the takeout container. What would it be like to have all that control unleashed?
While in bed.
Naked.
“What’d I tell you, Mabel?” he barked. His voice held a low warning that shot straight to places inside me it had no business going.
Shifting on the ground to relieve some of the misplaced excitement, I followed his gaze to where the sweet—if nosy—eccentric older lady stood, holding out her phone toward us.
Mabel shrugged, completely unrepentant. “My fans count on me to report the news, Sheriff. And we have—” she paused to look at the screen “ —twelve people watching now. Gotta keep them informed.”
That woman was the eye of the hurricane in this small town. Gossip seemed to swirl around her wherever she went—or she brought it with her, I wasn’t quite sure. Last week, she’d placed a custom order for face cream from me, and when I’d dropped it off for her, she’d kept me there for forty minutes, spilling the latest tea—Randall wastotallycheating on his poor wife, Dorothy, by the way. Regardless, she was amusing, and her Facebook Lives were legendary around these parts, especially since the newspaper didn’t seem to delve too far into the nitty-gritty of Starlight Cove.
“These aren’t just any eggs, Mabel,” I called, wanting to make sure Beck got credit where credit was due. “It’s an all-organic egg-white omelet with fresh goat cheese, heirloom tomatoes, and sprouts. Beck calls it the Luna Special.”
“That’s because you’re the only one who’d eat this shit,” Brady grumbled under his breath, his focus back on me. “You going to unlock that chain, or am I tossing your food to the animals you’re so worried about?”
