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The only person that could be here was the law…or my brother.
I looked at my cameras mounted by the computer and winced, unable to believe that I’d completely missed the blatant SUV pulling into my driveway. Or the awful sound it made when the cameras were alerted to movement.
Geez, that game was dangerous.
I switched views to the front door, and breathed a sigh of relief when I saw the sheriff there.
Black.
Why was he here?
I walked to the door, unlocked, unarmed, and opened it.
He stared down at me, then swept his gaze over the length of my body before his mouth twitched.
I looked down, too, and groaned.
I was wearing my Pooh Bear pajama set that I’d gotten at Walmart the week before.
They were soft, warm, and wholly unsexy.
It actually embarrassed the hell out of me for Black to see me in them.
“Uhh, Sheriff,” I said. “What can I help you with?”
What did I do now?
“Can I come in?” he asked politely.
I stepped back and opened the door wide, shutting it almost the moment that he crossed the threshold.
It was cold outside, giving me a little shiver as I closed the door and locked it out of habit.
“Nice place,” he murmured, taking a good look around.
My grandmother had built this house with my grandfather for their fiftieth anniversary.
Mostly, it was brand new except for a few pieces that they’d salvaged from their old home before they’d torn it down to build this one.
“Thanks,” I said softly. “What are you doing here? Is something wrong?”
He crossed his arms over his chest and stared at me for so long that I began to shift from foot to foot.
“Why’d you defend me?”
Ahh, so that was what this was about.
“Chris Gates is a creep,” I said. “He should’ve never done what he did. I heard him talking about what he was going to do to you, but I thought maybe it was just drunken mumbling. Then I thought, maybe I should just be careful and go. I’m surprised he actually went through with it.”
“He talked about it with you?” he asked, shifting.
I gestured for him to come farther into the house.
“I have coffee and beer, and maybe some bottled water. I could make tea, but I make all of mine out of well water.”
“Coffee, not beer.” He sighed. “I’m always on call.”
My brows rose. “Why?”