I also hate thinking about the triumphant smile she gave me after commandeering the judge's coffee. Sure, it was a 'fuck you, screw you' smile, but it was so fucking luminous my heart nearly stopped. When I close my eyes, I can still see her perfectly cushiony lips spread wide, lighting up her whole face while simultaneously throwing daggers at me. How she manages that is a mystery.
What kind of community service is this? Worse, I can't seem to pass the task off to Deputy Raj or Deputy Slinger to fulfill the role of her tutor, for reasons I can't quite articulate but make sense in my head, so no need to analyze further.
I take a swig of my Macallan like it's cheap whiskey as the moon dances on the lake's surface, and I hear the guys chuckle at me and my cranky mood.
Daxton Wohali, a fireman; Logan Davis, a farmer; Theodore Avis, our local doctor; Carpenter Lloyd, the vet; and Forest Croft, our mechanic—and me—usually meet about once a month to kick back, catch up, and drink obscenely expensive whiskey.
We've all lived in Candy Creek our entire lives, except for when we went to university and served in the military together. Our friendship runs deep.
They've been pretty quiet about the new girl, and I thought I could get away with it until now.
"How's it going with the city girl?" Daxton finally asks.
"Nothing new," I say. "I handed her a copy of Candy Creek History for Geeks and told her to memorize it. " As if that should end the conversation. It certainly means I won't have to keep her around all the time, and I don't care what Judge Jenkins commanded.
"Isn't that cheating? Judge Jenkins is going to have your balls if you're not giving Ms. Evans your personal attention," Daxton continues.
Yeah, he should talk. Does he know he's on Zoe St. John's list for reasons no one exactly knows, but it's definitely something nefarious?
"I'd spend all my time worrying about being on Zoe's list if I were you, instead of minding my own business," I mutter. Everyone finds that pretty funny.
"Look, knowing Zoe, you probably did something to her in the past, and that's a castration list she has," Logan says.
"And I'm not patching you back up if that's the case," Theo adds. "Not getting in the middle of that."
"Fuck that, this isn't about me. It's about the sheriff and his city girl."
She's not my city girl. But it's been four days since I last saw her. I should be grateful I can return to my peaceful, mundane life, as chaos follows her as if she's its queen.
For starters, she singlehandedly filled the court to the brim—that has never happened before.
"She's not mine," I say, and my voice comes out a little hoarse.
"I heard Mabel Rose wants personal assurances from you and anyone who'll listen that she is safe from the 'city savage,' as she calls Ms. Evans. Are we safe, sheriff?" Carpenter asks with a straight face.
"Oh yeah, and I heard from Tan that Charlie overheard Fredster tell Ronald it's always the prettiest girls we have to watch out for. Everyone agreed wholeheartedly with him," Theo volunteers.
"I heard Mariam say she has wicked powers to make the judge hand over her coffee in her special mug, no less, and needs to be looked into," Logan says. "Are you going to be looking into her, Sheriff?"
"Do you agree, Sheriff, she has trouble written all over her pretty face?" Forest asks, as if he just posed a serious life-or-death question.
"Alfie said he was lucky he left with his throat intact when he and Bernie came to the office to ask you if they could ask her out, now that she's on probation. Why is that, Sheriff Smith? "Theo asks.
"Fuck off," I murmur.
Half the single men want her and dropped by the damn office to ask me about their chances, as if I don't have a serious job. Every hot-blooded male seems to want her, except these guys. They're adamant she's my problem; thank God for that.
"Well, she's been assimilated into the book club now," Forest says, air quoting "book club."
True, those girls swarmed around her like mother hens and gave me the stink eye. Again, doing my job.
"So I guess you're happy you haven't seen much of her, right?" Forest adds. There's a sneakiness in his voice I don't like.
"I'll drink to that," I say confidently, ignoring their chuckles as we clink our glasses.
A little while later, we walk back into town to our respective homes until we meet again.
I take a shower in the house I grew up in, the buzz of the whiskey already out of my system, and head to bed.
