“I knew you’d say yes.” He flashed me that infuriating grin again. “Call it intuition.”
I wanted to argue, to tell him he couldn’t just waltz into my office and commandeer my afternoon. But Mrs. Baxter chose that moment to poke her head through the door.
“Sheriff, don’t forget you’re free this afternoon,” she said cheerfully. “I already moved your meetings around when Xavier mentioned he needed you.”
I stared at her in disbelief. “You what?”
“Oh, don’t give me that look. This wedding is important, and you need to look presentable.” She smiled at Xavier. “Thank you for taking care of this, dear. The sheriff never thinks about these things. He’d come to work in a stained t-shirt if I let him.”
“Happy to help,” Xavier said, shooting me a triumphant look.
I was being ambushed by my own secretary. This was a new low.
“Fine,” I said, grabbing my keys and hat. “But we’re taking my truck.”
“Your truck?” Xavier looked horrified. “I saw that thing. It’s covered in mud and probably smells like wet dog.”
“It doesnotsmell like wet dog,” I said defensively, though I couldn’t actually remember the last time I’d cleaned the interior. “And it’s a work vehicle. It’s supposed to get dirty.”
“I’ll drive,” Xavier said, already heading for the door. “My rental is clean, comfortable, and doesn’t have suspicious stains on the seats.”
“Those aren’t suspicious, they’re coffee—” I started, but he was already out the door, leaving me to follow like some kind of obedient puppy.
Dammit his ass looked amazing. And he had those little dimples in his lower back where my thumbs would slot perfectly. I could almost picture how good it would feel to be buried face first between his cheeks…
No. Stop it.
Mrs. Baxter gave me an encouraging smile as I passed her desk. “Have fun, Sheriff. And don’t let him bully you into anything too fancy.”
Too late for that, I thought grimly as I followed Xavier out to his rental SUV. He was already in the driver’s seat, adjusting the mirrors and humming something that sounded vaguely likeThe King and I.
I climbed into the passenger seat, immediately noticing how clean everything was. It smelled like that expensive cologne of his, citrus and something else I couldn’t identify but made my head swim in a way that was far too pleasant.
“Seatbelt,” Xavier said without looking at me, starting the engine. “Don’t want to get pulled over.”
“I know I need to wear a seatbelt,” I muttered, but I buckled up anyway.
He pulled out of the parking lot with the kind of confidence that told me he’d gotten comfortable driving these country roads despite his earlier complaints. We headed toward the Turner Ranch, and I found myself hyper-aware of every movement he made. The way his hands gripped the steering wheel, the way his jaw worked when he was concentrating, the way that damn crop top kept riding up every time he shifted gears.
“So,” he said after a few minutes of silence. “When were you planning on telling Beau you’d officiate?”
“I don’t know. Soon.” I stared out the window at the passing landscape, trying to focus on anything other than the man beside me.
“You’re scared,” Xavier said, and it wasn’t a question.
“I’m not scared,” I lied.
“Yes, you are.” He glanced over at me, and I could feel the weight of his gaze even though I wasn’t looking at him. “You’rescared of what people will think. Of what it means for you to stand up there and marry two men in front of the whole town.”
I didn’t respond. What could I say? He was right, and we both knew it. I just hated that he already had me figured out. He was far too observant for his own good.
“For what it’s worth,” Xavier continued, his voice softer now, “I think it’s brave. What you’re doing.”
“I haven’t done anything yet.”
“But you will.” He turned his attention back to the road. “And when you do, it’s going to mean something. Not just to Lucas and Beau, but to a lot of other people too.”
I swallowed hard, trying not to think about it. My daddy was probably rolling in his grave. The last thing he ever wanted was a queer for a son.
