Page 18 of Rogue Wave

Well, shit.

“Oh. Hey, Hank,” she said softly, her voice ending on a hitch.

Most people called me McAllister, Sheriff McAllister, or just Sheriff.

Not Hazel.

She always called me Hank or some made-up name like Surly McCranky or something. With anyone else, it would have irritated me. With her, I found that I liked it.

But I still loved to goad her. Why, I had no idea.

“Sheriff Hank,” I teasingly corrected her as I chose to sit down next to her.

Shadow sat on the ground between us, torn between which human to focus on, but she ultimately chose Hazel’s attention.

I would have too, given the choice.

“Thanks for bringing my car back,” she said quietly and clearly begrudgingly.

I knew she was happy I’d had it towed back to her house, but it obviously pained her to thank me for it.

“You’re welcome.”

We both stared off at the ocean silently for a few moments.

“I actually wasn’t the one who ticketed you or had it towed, by the way.”

I wasn’t sure why I felt the need to tell her that again, but I did, and then I turned to take in her red, puffy eyes.

She turned and met my eyes, her eyebrows shooting up as she gave me a look of disbelief. “Had to mix it up and make someone else give me the ticket instead?”

God… Even in a sad mood, as she clearly was, her stubbornness and sass came out. And for some stupid reason, I couldn’t get enough of it.

“As shocking as it is, I actually played no part whatsoever in that.”

She snorted. “Huh. Should I be worried that there’s someone else trying to take over your job as Buzzkill McRulebook?”

There she was with the weird nicknames again, and all I wanted to do was kiss that sarcasm right off her lips. Instead, I shook my head and let out a quick chuckle.

“Did you just laugh, or were you choking?” she teased.

I felt the corners of my lips pull back, but I reined it in, not wanting to give her the satisfaction of knowing she made me laugh. “Choking.”

“Hmmm,” she muttered as she turned to look back over the water.

I pulled the tennis ball from my pocket and gave it a good toss down the beach, causing Shadow to abandon Hazel’s head scratches in exchange for some fetch.

She and I sat there in silence together for several minutes while I threw the ball and Shadow did what she did best—retrieved.

“You alright?” I finally asked.

I was leaning over with my legs open and my elbows on my thighs, hands clasped together.

“Sorry. Yeah. I’m fine,” she sighed, her gaze focused on Shadow’s running form. “Just feeling sorry for myself and also thinking about the whole drugs on the beach scenario. I’m good, though. Many other people have bigger problems than mine.”

“Doesn’t mean your problems don’t have merit or your opinion isn’t valid.”

She didn’t respond but slowly turned to me. She stared at me as if trying to see inside me, to my inner thoughts.