Now, don’t get me wrong. I could take care of my damn self. I didn’t need no man to protect me or care for me. But I couldn’t deny that I felt safe around Marcus, like I didn’t need to put on a show… like I could just bemyselffor once.
I let out a long, frustrated sigh. I was irritated with myself for liking him, for allowing myself to get infatuated with some backwater sheriff in the middle of nowhere. I was only going to be in Sagebrush for another three weeks at most. After that I hada life, a career, and a high-rise apartment to return to back in New York City. I didn’t spend my entire adult life building all of that just to drop it the moment some hot guy walked into my life. And Marcus, despite all his attractive qualities, wasn’t going to be the one to do it. I wouldn’t allow it.
With one last sigh, I gathered up the suit and my tailoring supplies before stepping out of my rental. No sooner had I shut the door behind me than I heard someone step out onto the front porch of the small house in front of me. I glanced up to see Marcus standing there in a pair of nice jeans, a tight T-shirt, and a cream cowboy hat on his head. He was still scruffy and every bit as devastatingly handsome as he’d been the first day I came to Sagebrush.
“Hey,” he said, his voice a little rough around the edges.
“Hey yourself,” I replied, forcing myself to sound casual even though my heart was doing gymnastics in my chest. “Nice place you got here.”
It wasn’t a lie. His house was a modest single-story ranch-style home with a well-maintained yard and a porch that wrapped around the front. It had character—weathered wood siding painted a soft gray, window boxes that actually had flowers in them, and a swing that looked like it had been there for decades. It was exactly the kind of house I’d expect a small-town sheriff to live in.
Marcus shifted his weight, one hand coming up to adjust his hat even though it didn’t need adjusting. I was starting to recognize that as one of his tells. When he was nervous or uncomfortable, he fiddled with his hat.
“Thanks,” he said. “It was my daddy’s house. Left it to me when he passed.”
There was something in his voice when he mentioned his father, a weight that told me there was a lot more to that story than he was letting on. But I wasn’t going to push. Not today.
“Well, it looks like you’ve taken good care of it,” I said, climbing the porch steps. “Some of the houses in this town, no offense, look like they wouldn’t stand up to a strong gust of wind.”
“Yeah,” he nodded. “Sagebrush was on its way to becoming a ghost town before Lucas and Logan showed up. They’ve really turned it around in the past couple of years.”
We stood there for a moment, just looking at each other. Up close, I could see the faint lines around his eyes, the way his jaw was clenched just slightly, the pulse beating at his throat. He smelled like soap and coffee this time, clean and simple and somehow more intoxicating than any expensive cologne.
“So,” I said, breaking the silence. “Are you going to invite me in, or are we doing this fitting on your porch where all your neighbors can watch?”
His eyes widened slightly, and that flush I loved so much started creeping up his neck. “Right. Yeah. Come on in. I’ve got coffee on if you want some.”
He held the door open for me, and I brushed past him, close enough that my shoulder grazed his chest. I felt him stiffen, heard the sharp intake of breath, and I had to suppress a smile. God, he was fun to mess with.
The interior of his house was just as charming as the exterior. Hardwood floors that had been recently refinished, comfortable-looking furniture that was probably older than I was, and photographs on the walls that showed generations of Webb men in sheriff uniforms. There was a bookshelf crammed with paperbacks—mostly westerns and thrillers from what I could see—and a coffee table that held a half-empty mug and a large photography book about Tuscany with little tabs marking several dozen pages.
“I’ll take that coffee,” I said, putting my things down. “But only if it’s good.”
“I will do my best,” Marcus nodded, heading for the kitchen.
I began to unpack my tailoring kit. “So… you planning a trip to Italy or something?”
“What?”
“The book on your coffee table,” I said, pulling out my tape measure. “It looks like you look through it a lot.”
He reappeared with a mug, setting it down on the table next to me. “No. I’m just lookin’,” he sighed. “Couldn’t get that much time off, anyway.”
I picked up the coffee and took a sip, pleasantly surprised to find it was actually decent. Not as good as what I could make with my espresso machine, but respectable. “You know,” I said, settling onto his couch, “you could take a vacation if you wanted to. The town wouldn’t fall apart without you for a week or two.”
“Maybe,” he said, but his tone suggested he didn’t believe that for a second. He stood there awkwardly, like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself in his own living room now that I was in it.
“Marcus,” I said gently. “You don’t have to be so stiff. I’m not going to bite. Unless you ask me to,” I added with a grin, unable to help myself.
The flush deepened, spreading to the tips of his ears. “Xavier?—”
“Kidding. Mostly.” I set down my coffee and picked up the measuring tape. “Come here. Let’s get this over with so you can stop looking like you’re about to face a firing squad.”
He approached slowly, like I was a wild animal that might spook at any sudden movements. When he was close enough, I gestured for him to turn around.
“Shirt off,” I said, keeping my voice professional. “I promise to keep my comments to myself.”
He hesitated for just a moment before grabbing the hem of his t-shirt and pulling it over his head in one smooth motion.And Jesus Christ, I’d seen him in an undershirt yesterday, but somehow it hit different when it was just skin. All that muscle, that thick dark hair trailing down from his chest to disappear beneath his waistband, and the way his shoulders tapered to a narrow waist.
