"Since I can't end its existence—because the last time I tried, you arrested me, threw me into a cell, and I was sentenced to community service in a way I still can't understand—I'm now your problem. That otter is sleeping in my bed. Which way to your guest bedroom?"
"This isn't a bed and breakfast, Evans. I only have one bedroom."
"Well, that's fine. Thank you for being okay with sleeping on the couch." I walk down the hallway until I find his bedroom. Then,because my towel is damp and who cares anyway, I unclasp it from my chest and let it drop to the floor. Naked, I climb into his bed and pull the covers up, tucking them around me.
He makes the mistake of following me and watches as I get into his bed in my birthday suit.
He stares at me, looking more dumbfounded than I've ever seen him. I didn't think he could pull it off.
Then he starts to shuck his boxer briefs until he's naked. Holy crap. But I'm still mad, and I won't be swayed by the perfect definition of his body.
"Excuse me, what are you doing?" I cry.
"Going to sleep in my bed."
"You can't be in here naked."
"I can. It's my bed. Don't like it? There's the couch."
The bed dips. His body is huge and sculpted with muscle; he not only takes up a good portion of the bed but also crowds everything around me.
"Oh, I see what you're doing. Well, I'm not moving. I've seen a snake bigger than you at camp, and I just walked right past it."
I didn't. With my fear of everything that isn't human, I would have died on the spot, but I felt compelled to comment negatively about his cock. It was just out there, begging for my opinion. But how can it be that long, thick, and so beautiful? No.
"Are you comparing my cock to the size of a snake?"
"No, I'm aligning your personality with that of a beast."
Okay, so maybe I'm still angry at him for not kissing me.
"Well played."
"Thank you. I had to think quickly," I say. Then I blurt out, "I'm not really a lawyer. I failed the bar exam and ran away from home."
"I know."
"How?" I ask, my tone incredulous.
"You're a person of interest, possibly a dangerous psychopath. My job is to protect the residents of Candy Creek. I have a dossier on you."
So he knows I come from money and influence. For some reason, I didn't want him to know that about me.
I laugh. "Do you think I'm a coward? A failure?"
"Are you going to take the exam again?"
"No." That's the first time that question was asked of me, and I answered with surprising clarity.
"I don't think you're a coward or a failure simply because you're not a quitter. If being a lawyer is what you really wanted, you'd be taking the bar again, as many times as it takes. But I think if you truly wanted it, sitting for the exam once would have been enough."
I can't explain the sense of relief that washes over me. It's like the ropes around my whole life go slack. The chokehold of expectations that have been piled on me since I was five years old lessens until it disappears. My body relaxes for the first time in forever. I'm not a quitter. I just don't want to be a lawyer.
"Thank you," I whisper. "Goodnight, Sheriff Smith."
"Goodnight, Ms. Evans."
In the silence of the room and with no inner turmoil to keep me awake, all I can think about is the heat of his body, like flames burning through the sheets, engulfing every part of me.
