The flush deepened, spreading to the tips of his ears now.
Bingo.
“There’s, uh... not much,” he admitted. “Folks usually just gather at Dolly’s or hang out at each other’s homes. Sometimes there’s events at the community center. Once a year we have the big state fair just outside of town.”
“Sounds thrilling,” I said dryly. “No bars? No clubs?”
“There’s a bar about twenty miles out on Route Nine. The Rusty Spoke,” he offered. “Nothing fancy though.”
“Of course not.” I sighed, already mourning the loss of my favorite cocktail lounges back home. “What about you? What do you do for fun?”
He looked almost startled by the question, like no one had asked him that in a while. “Work, mostly. I read sometimes. Go fishing when I get the chance.”
“Fishing,” I repeated. “Right. Because that’s a thing people do for fun.”
The corner of his mouth twitched again, and I was starting to think that was as close to a laugh I was going to get from him. “You’ve never been fishing?”
“I’ve been to sushi restaurants,” I countered. “Does that count?”
This time he did laugh, just a short huff of air, but it transformed his face again. He looked younger when he smiled, less burdened. I found myself wanting to make him laugh again, properly this time.
“Here we go,” Dolly’s voice cut through the moment as she emerged from the kitchen carrying two massive plates. She set them down and I saw one had what was obviously barbeque brisket, while the other had some sort of deep-fried flat thing.
“What is that?” I asked, pointing to the disc of fried breading slathered in gravy.
“Chicken fried steak,” she grunted.
“No vegetarian options?”
Dolly slapped down a fork so hard that it nearly put a hole in the table. “If you don’t eat meat, then you can eat around it.”
With another huff, she was gone. I watched her stomp back to the bar in her red heels before turning to Marcus.
“She really doesn’t like me, does she?” I asked.
“Nope,” he said simply, picking up his fork. “And that, I’ll have you know, takes talent.”
I let out a sigh before picking up my own fork and poking at the chicken steak thing. “How do you eat this?”
Marcus looked up at me, brisket halfway to his mouth, like I was the biggest idiot in the world. “You uh… chew it, I guess?”
Chapter 5
Marcus
Icarried the donut box gingerly to my truck. I’d been waiting all week for this. Fridays were extra special, my cheat day. Not that I needed to worry about it too much since I was in such good shape, but I wanted to remain in shape too. Being sheriff meant I wanted to have a presence and command a sense of respect. And, to be perfectly honest, having big biceps meant that a lot of people were far too busy drooling over my arms to argue with me about their speeding tickets.
Butdonuts.
The scent of warm sugar and vanilla filled my car as I drove back to the office. I stopped just inside the front door, leaving a couple iced chocolate donuts for Mrs. Baxter. She liked to dunk them in her morning coffee. But the rest I took into my office and closed the door because I was gonna get downrightnastywith those tasty morsels.
I took a seat, flipping open the box and staring down at the glory within. There were cream filled long johns, custard filled donuts, two apple fritters, two sour cream cake donuts, and a couple absolutely drenched in powdered sugar that I wanted to snort right then and there.
I reached in, picking up one of the custard donuts, my favorite, and lifted it free of the rest. The gooey icing dripped off the sides, and I could see the cream-filled hole where the custard had been stuffed inside. It was downright obscene. And I couldn’t wait to put my mouth on it.
But the moment I lifted it to my lips, my phone rang.
“Motherfucker…” I muttered, setting the donut gingerly back in the box. I’d get to him in a minute. “This had better be good.” I snatched up the phone, already annoyed. “Sheriff Webb.”
