“Sheriff Sloan, since I’m the owner of this establishment,” Grace says, “please remove that man from my property.”
“With pleasure,” my father says, then nods at his deputy.
The deputy pulls Henry to his feet, but the profanities as he’s forced out the door are never-ending.
Once he’s gone, the people in the lobby don't know what to do first. It’s a lot of awkward glances, and I spot my dad pulling out his notepad as he walks us to Grace and Gavin.
Then my eyes land on Dutton.
I really don’t know what this means for us, but I do know that I don’t want to give him up. It might get a little complicated, but as long as I’m with him, we’ll figure it out. We shouldn't have to pay the price for our parents’ mistakes.
Not anymore.
“Hi, Books,” he says quietly so only I can hear him.
“Hey, Big D.” I bite my lip.
He chuckles lightly.
“Look, I …” He rubs the back of his neck. “Last night was bad, and I shouldn’t have drunk so much. I should have stayed sober so we could have talked this out. But even though I still don’t know what to say about it, I know this: please don’t give up on us. This whole thing is just nuts, but I don't want to ever have to imagine my life without you. I love you so fucking much. Please tell me what I need to do to keep you.”
Well, shit.
I already knew I loved this man, but that was some romance-novel worthy stuff right there.
“Well, for starters, you can start by providing me declarations of love like that every morning.”
His lips break out into a grin.
“I can do that.”
“Then, you can keep being exactly who you are, but don’tkeep secrets from me, no matter how hard it might be to tell me. Drunk or sober, you tell me everything.”
He nods.
“I can do that, too.”
“Next, you can kiss me, because I love you, too.”
His arms wrap around me, I lock mine around his neck to hold on, and his lips crash to mine as he spins us.
How the couples in my romance novels can go days without communication before they get their happy ending blows my mind. Twelve hours of not knowing where Dutton and I stand was pure torture.
A throat clears next to us.
Dutton pulls his lips from mine and sets me on my feet. We turn to face my father; Dutton straightens his back and nods.
“Sheriff Sloan."
“Dutton.”
It’s my father who breaks their stare first.
“I’m going to need your statement, but why don’t you come to the station later?” Dad’s attention turns to me. “The same goes for you. I want to finish our conversation.”
“We’ll be there,” I tell him.
He holds his hand out to Dutton.
