He huffs a laugh, the kind that softens all his edges. “You’re unbelievable.”
“And you,” I say, tracing the cut of his jaw with my fingertip, “are stupidly sexy when you’re being all protective and terrifying.”
His eyes darken, but not with danger—something warmer, deeper. “That shouldn’t turn you on.”
“Well, it does. Sorry. I’m morally complicated.”
“You’re insane.” He kisses my forehead, lingering there. “Utterly insane.”
“And you,” I whisper, settling against him again with a satisfied sigh, “are mine.”
His arms tighten around me, fierce and gentle all at once.
“Yeah,” he says into my hair, voice low and certain. “I am.”
Chapter 31
Ethan
Luckystartlesawakeassoon as my phone buzzes on the bedside table. Her whole body jolts like she’s been dropped into ice water. My hand goes out automatically, steadying her before I even check the screen.
Sheriff Dawson.
Bloody perfect timing.
I don’t need to answer to know what this is—the security alert app is already lighting up. Cedar Falls Bank’s morning false alarm. Again.
They upgraded their system last spring—myinstall—state-of-the-art, idiot-proof. Except it’s only idiot-proof if youdon’t put a rotating cast of half-asleep interns on opening duty.
Every few weeks: same circus, new clown.
One of them forgets the two-step disarm, punches the wrong sequence, or holds the door too long… and the whole damn building screams. Protocol requires Dawson to call me before he files a report, so I can verify it’s not a malfunction.
Routine. Annoying. Predictable as sunrise.
“I’ll go make coffee,” Lucky mumbles, rubbing her eyes as she slides out of bed. She grabs a shirt—myshirt—from the floor and pads toward the door.
So much for morning sex.
I sigh and swipe to answer.
“Yeah, Sheriff,” I say. “Which one was it this time?”
I pull on shorts with my free hand and follow the smell of coffee downstairs.
Dawson huffs a laugh, the kind that crackles like gravel over the line.Too early for this shitis basically his love language.
“Morning to you too, Maddox,” he says. “And it’s the new kid. Tyler. Skinny one with the tragic mustache.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Poor bastard’s been trying to grow that sad thing on his upper lip since May.”
“Yeah, well, he punched in the override code backward,” Dawson sighs. “Set off the whole system. Bank wants you in to verify the panel didn’t fault before I file the report.”
Of course they do.
“Give me an hour,” I say.
“Make it sooner if you can. I know it’s Saturday, but I told the manager you’re dependable.” Dawson pauses, amusement creeping into his voice. “Left out the part where you’re grumpy as hell before nine.”
