She leans forward, peering out the window, her nose wrinkling like she’s caught a whiff of sulfur—or stupidity.
Then she tilts her head to the side, hair falling like a damn shampoo commercial, and says, casual as hell, “Did you know there’s a naked Gnome running around outside throwing donut holes at people’s cars?”
I blink.Once.Twice.
“What?”
She’s staring out the window, but I’m not following her.My brain is stuck somewhere around her dimples, and that gorgeous ass.
“Godsdammit,” I mutter under my breath, and stand up, already reaching for my walkie.
Megan snorts, and I swear I can feel her smile against the back of my neck.
This town is chaos.
She’s chaos.
And I’ve never wanted anything more in my life.
“Ooh, yeah.He’s just totes naked, isn’t he?Full frontal garden accessory.And he has got an arm on him.”
She whistles, and I’m halfway to shifting at the mere idea of her ogling some other man’s junk.
Next, I process what she actually said, and I don’t even bother biting back my groan.
“Shit.”I push my chair out of the way with a groan that’s half growl.“Gerry must’ve gotten into the espresso again.”
“Is that code for meth?”
“No,” I mutter, stepping around her, “it’s literal espresso.The Gnome’s banned fromBean Me Up, but he keeps sneaking in through the ductwork.”
I move past her, careful not to touch her, careful not to breathe too deep.
Careful not to grab her with both hands and tell her she’s mine like some lovesick beast about to start humping the furniture.
My Wolf’s pacing in my head like it’s mating season, and this woman just strutted into our territory with enough attitude to break the damn moon.
He doesn’t care that she’s here to shut us down.
He only knows she’s our mate.
I march through the station with her on my heels, and I push open the front door.Then, I freeze because yep, there he is.
Gerry.The Gnome.Stark naked and chucking powdered sugar chaos at a Kia Soul.
“Gerry!”I bellow, stomping down the steps of the station.“Drop the donut hole and step away from the compact!”
The naked little menace turns, powdered sugar smeared across his chest like war paint, eyes wild with caffeinated glee.
“Eat this, Sheriff!”he shrieks and pelts me with a barrage of powdered missiles like he’s in some sugary reenactment of Normandy.
“Dammit!”I duck, barely avoiding a direct hit to the face.The powder explodes across my shoulder, leaving a greasy white smear on my uniform.“That’s dry clean only, you little shit!”
“Freedom!”Gerry screams, sprinting across the parking lot like a pudgy, naked track star with a sugar addiction.
I growl low and dangerous, stalking after him, trying real hard not to shift in broad daylight.
“Gerry, put on some damn pants before I tranquilize you on principle.”
