“Good,” I mutter. “Wouldn’t want to ruin my reputation.”
“You planning on giving me paperwork every damn weekend?” he asks.
He means last night. Obviously.
“Not unless you failed to eliminate those three troublemakers properly.”
“I’m not a disposal service,” Dawson grumbles. “They were escorted, and we watched ‘em drive right out of town. Sunrise and everything. Just keep your nose clean.”
Dawson knows not to dig. He won’t get anything I don’t volunteer.
“If I were looking for trouble, Sheriff,” I say dryly, “I wouldn’t waste my time on three amateurs in matching suits.”
He snorts. “Bring coffee, Maddox, and I’ll give you the latest town gossip,” he says, knowing when to change the topic. “Supposed to be real shocking.”
“Doubt it,” I say. “Last week’s ‘juicy stuff’ was your neighbor’s cat getting stuck in a storm drain.”
“Hey, that was dramatic,” he shoots back. “Anyway, see you soon.”
I hang up with a quiet exhale.
When I turn, Lucky’s at the sink, sipping water, hair a wild, glorious mess around her shoulders. She’s wearing nothing but my shirt—hanging off her, swallowing her—and looking at me like I’m the only solid thing in the room.
For one dangerous second, I consider calling Dawson back and telling him to shove it.
But reality snaps into place like a bolt sliding home.
I grab my jeans sitting in a hamper of folded laundry. “I’ve gotta head out for a bit,” I tell her. “Bank alarm. False one. Again.”
Her mouth twists sympathetically. “The tragic mustache kid?”
I blink. “You heard that?”
“You were not exactly quiet,” she smirks, leaning on the counter. “Also, your ‘bloody hell’ voice carries.”
Christ, she’s going to be the death of me.
I step close enough to brush her hip with my hand, grounding myself in her warmth. “I’ll only be a couple of hours. Three, tops. Sheriff wants a report, and I’ve gotta restock some supplies in town.”
Her expression shifts, the faintest flicker of fear across her eyes—there and gone. But I see it. I always see it.
I lower my voice. “Lucky. My guy swept the whole perimeter at dawn. Scheifer’s nowhere near Cedar Lake Falls. You’re safe.”
She swallows, nodding once.
I tilt her chin up gently, meeting her gaze. “And you’re going to turn on the system the second I walk out, yeah?”
“Yes, Dad,” she teases, rolling her eyes. But then—softening—“Yeah. I will.”
I nod, satisfied, though leaving her alone tightens something low in my gut.
I press a slow kiss to her forehead, meant to reassure her more than me.
She rises onto her toes and catches my mouth with hers—warm, a little shaky, like she’s memorizing the shape of me before I go.
“Back soon,” I murmur against her lips.
And as I head for the door, grabbing my keys and the security toolkit I practically sleep with nowadays, I can feel her eyes on me—warm, worried, and pulling me back even as I step away.
