My face scrunches up because he just might. With a sigh, I admit, “I like to go to yard sales to find cheap fabric and other things.”
Surprise is written all over Rhodes’s face, but he doesn’t laugh. But he does bite his lip.
“You’re laughing,” I accuse him.
“I am not,” he shoots back, haughtily. “But I am surprised and amused.” He tilts his head to the side while studying me, “I didn’t think people under 60 liked yard sales.”
“Hardy-har-har,” I sass him which has a laugh bursting from him.
It’s such a carefree and joyous sound and I can’t find it in me to care whether or not he’s making fun of me. Instead of being annoyed, I find myself smiling at him.
When we’re standing in front of the municipal building, we stop and look at each other for a long moment. “I have a feeling you’re going to be surprising me a lot, Sweetheart.”
My heart does a twist in my chest that I’m sure can’t be healthy or normal. The smile he gives me is warm with a hint of heat that I’m not sure what to do with. When he raises his hand and caresses my cheek with the back of his knuckles, I almost melt into a puddle in the middle of downtown Dogwood Ridge without a single care about who could be around.
“I’ll be seeing you soon,” his voice is hoarse and thick with promises left unsaid.
With as dry as my mouth is, I don’t trust myself to say anything, but nod and offer him a smile. I force myself not to look back as I walk up the steps, but when I reach the door, I can’t help myself. He’s still there and watching me. The look on his face is soft and makes me wonder when I’ll get the chance to see him again.
I hope it’s soon.
CHAPTER 7
RHODES
I haven’t seen Helen in days and it’s starting to bug me. The last time I saw her, I had been stalking Dolly’s Place to see if she would eat lunch there. I got lucky. But I haven’t been able to get over to Dogwood Ridge in the last few days to track her down again. It has me feeling out of sorts and untethered in a way that I don’t fully understand but have accepted.
She was so damn cute the other day when I walked her back to work. The way she tentatively confessed about going to yard sales with a pink blush covering her cheeks made me want to kiss her. Honestly, everything she does makes me want to kiss her.
I just know her lips would be so damn soft and I long to find out what she tastes like. Will she taste like honey because it’s what she smells like? My mouth waters just thinking about it.
I’ve spent the last few days thinking about her and kicking myself because I didn’t ask for her number. Honestly, I already have it. I’m not even a little bit ashamed of using my resources to get it, even though I stepped over the line just a little. It would be strange for me to just call her up without her giving me her number.
And so, I’ve been unable to get my fix of her, and it feels like my skin is far too tight on my body because of it.
If only I didn’t need to stop and check in at the Animal Rescue and Kimball before I give in and head to Dogwood Ridge and hope to catch sight of her. Because, again, I know where she lives and I can’t just show up there.
Thereare times I wish I wasn’t such a good guy.
By the time I walk into the rescue, I’m almost at the end of my rope. This kind of reaction can’t be healthy.
I’ve spent far too much time at night soothing myself to sleep with thoughts of how I’m going to woo Helen into my life, into my bed, into my forever. There have been so many scenarios going through my head and I’m getting ahead of myself.
The first step is probably a date. That feels kind of pedestrian considering the way I feel about the woman.
Kimball’s face lights up when she sees me and she gives a small wave. “Hey, Sheriff,” she greets me happily.
“Hey, Kimball,” I try to hide the anxiousness in my voice, but from the way her head tilts slightly I’m not sure I manage it completely.
“You’re here to check on our last few stragglers?” There’s a lilt of amusement in her voice which has me softening and most of my annoyance dissipating.
It’s been about six months now since the dogs were rescued from the dog fighting ring. The fact that there are two dogs still recovering is heartbreaking, but I know Kimball is doing everything she can. I try and stop in every now and again, not only to grab a few photos for the file, but just to check on everyone.
Okay, maybe I’m here to see one of the two dogs still recovering.
If only I were home more.
“How are they doing?” I ask, my shoulders dropping slightly because I can’t see Stella if I’m upset and tense. Those kinds of emotions aren’t good for her, especially now since she’s been learning to trust people again.
