Page 4 of Falling for the Sheriff

Atlas

Having Kelly and Fergus in my ear, shooting out ideas of where to take my future wife through the rest of my shift had me feeling more clueless than before.

Kelly demanded a romantic candle dinner. She knows where we live, right? Or does she not realize a woman who hardly knows me may not be excited to leave town without leaving with any worries?

Fergus said to drag her straight to my cabin and woo her as I had the first time.

Both fools are single and don’t have a clue what they’re talking about.

So, I do what feels right. I take her to The Hollow Oak, the same place we met. Not to say I don’t want to see if sparks can fly twice, but it’s a joint we’re both familiar with.

Once we’re parked, my boots hit the gravel, and I’m around the front of the truck before she can even unbuckle her seatbelt. I pull the heavy door open, and she looks down at me, a little surprised, a little amused. A soft, breathy laugh escapes her, and the sound goes straight to my head.

This is much better than the awkward faces she’s been making since we’ve crossed paths again.

“Let me help you out,” I say, offering my hand.

She hesitates for just a second, then slides her palm against mine. Her fingers are cool, but the second they touch my skin, it’s like striking a match. I don’t just help her down; I curl my fingers tight around hers, locking them in place. I have no intention of letting go.

The Hollow Oak is in full swing tonight, the rumble of talk and laughter spilling out into the parking lot. A couple of guys are arguing good-naturedly about a football play by the door, and they nod at me as we pass.

Inside, it’s warm and loud, filled with the chatter of young adults and the twang of some country song on the jukebox.

I keep her hand firmly in mine, my thumb brushing over her knuckles as I lead her through the crowd. I spot an empty table tucked in the back corner, one with a high-backed cushioned booth on one side and a stool on the other. Perfect.

I guide her toward the plush seat. “You take the throne,” I say, my voice low near her ear so she can hear me over the noise. She slides in, looking small and almost regal against the dark leather.

I drag the wooden stool around to face her, its legs scraping against the floor. I sit, leaning forward with my elbows on the table, closing the space between us. The noise of the bar fades into a dull roar, just a background hum to the woman in front of me.

She’s looking around, taking in the scene, her eyes wide and bright. She’s nervous, I can tell, but there’s a spark of excitement there, too. She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, and the gesture is so unguarded it makes my chest tight.

I wait for her to look back at me. When she does, I hold her gaze, letting her see the absolute truth in my words.

“For the record,” I say, my voice rough but earnest. “You look gorgeous.”

Alice’s smile is contagious, especially when it stretches across her lips.

“You look…” Biting on her lip, she squirms against her seat. “You look pretty good.”

That means all of the concerned thoughts I felt earlier were pointless.

Looking around the bar, I motion over toward the bartenders to get our order taken. My stomach is clenching from hunger, but I’m not entirely sure food will be enough to sate it.

Kinsley recognizes me from my weekly appearances as she’s the one to come our way, and her smile reaches her eyes as she sets down some paper menus.

“Evening, Sheriff. A little late seeing you here.” Like she just now realizes Alice is watching her, her brows lift in surprise. “With a date, nonetheless.”

While my ears go warm, Alice scans over their menu like she hasn’t ever eaten here. Maybe that’s why Kinsley doesn’t recognize her. There’s the chance that she only came here before to succeed at picking someone up. Talk about beginner’s luck.

“Well, happy to always have you. Do you need a second to look?” She pulls out her notepad, happy to jot down something.

Alice shakes her head, already knowing what she wants. Tapping her finger along the menu, she orders onion rings and fries doused with enough bacon and cheese to drown someone. Ending her order with a drink, she chews on her lip as she debates picking something else.

“Order whatever you want, I am buying.” Beneath the table, I nudge her shoe.

Looking like she wants to argue, I interrupt by adding on a few extra fried goods for myself.

Even if I can’t finish off everything, we can work together.

She dots down our order and disappears, promising to have our food in record time. All too quickly, she returns with our drinks before disappearing again in a blur.

Every time I see the woman, she is always on the move.

Alone once more, I watch as Alice carefully sips at her drink. Not rushing to speak, I take the opportunity to lead.

“I guess I have to ask the important questions first.” Tilting my head, my eyes fall back to her stomach.

I can’t stop looking, can’t stop this stirring that’s happening in my chest at every thought that reminds me that this is a result of what we’ve done.

“Do you know the gender? Any names picked out?”

Another soft laugh leaves her. I can’t hold back when it comes to my eagerness. I’m going to be a father.

“The blood test says a boy.” Playing with the straw in her cup, she pinches the plastic. “I’m thinking, Luke, if the test is correct.”

A boy. I have to slip my hands beneath the table so I can grip my knees to contain my excitement. Don’t want to scare her and make her think I’m going to force my way into her life.

“Luke. Yeah, that’s a good name.” Offering a smile, I slowly calm. “How do you feel about everything?”

She doesn’t answer at first, like she’s really thinking about it. Soon, she sighs. “I don’t regret anything. Fate’s just being a little cruel, sending you back into my life. If I’m not careful, I’ll want you to—”

Stopping herself like she’s about to reveal something big, I catch myself clinging to her words. Unfortunately, the flush on her cheeks says she’s not going to be finishing her sentence any time soon.

Returning my hands to the table, I reach out to touch her. Like an addiction has already formed, I run my fingers against her knuckles, and she’s automatically releasing her glass so I can cradle the back of her hands.

“Alice.” Saying her name still feels unreal. “I know you got far more than what you asked for. But I need you to know…not a day has passed without you crossing my mind. I’ve regretted never getting your information.”

Do I tell her that I combed through the files at work in hopes of finding something, but of course, the woman is an angel who doesn’t know what being in trouble is? That may be too much.

The pink on her cheeks turns darker at my admittance. “I…” She turns her hands so she can squeeze my fingers. “I’ve thought about you, too.”

Suddenly, this feels real.

Before I can even form the question—before I can ask what beautiful, secret thoughts are running through her mind—Kinsley is back, arms laden with enough plates to feed a small army. She beams, unbothered, as she starts arranging the feast between us.

But my attention snags on the guy behind her, one of the kitchen staff, balancing another tray. He gives me a quick, respectful nod, but then his gaze slides past me. Lands on Alice.

Something ugly and hot twists in my gut.

It’s a quick glance, probably innocent, but it feels like a violation. He sees her, sees the soft curiosity in her eyes, the slight part of her lips. And for a split second, she’s not here with me; she’s just a beautiful woman he’s appreciating.

The possessiveness that surges through me is immediate and vicious, a snarl in the back of my brain that says mine.

She isn’t. Not officially. Not even close. But the thought of another man looking at her, wanting her, makes my jaw clench so tight it aches.

I force a smile, tapping my fingers in a restless rhythm against the tabletop. It feels more like a baring of teeth.

“Thank you. Everything looks amazing,” I say, but the words are tight, strained. My focus isn’t on the food or on Kinsley. It’s pinned on him, waiting for him to look away from her.

A wave of cold, grim satisfaction washes over me when he finally does, following Kinsley back toward the kitchen. The air around our table feels clear again, the tension in my shoulders easing just a fraction.

The rich smell of grilled meat and spices finally hits me, and my stomach growls in response. I’m starving, all right. Seems I must be craving both the food and the woman all at the same time.

Alice’s eyes lock onto the basket of onion rings. It’s like everything else in the noisy bar just fades away. She doesn’t just eat one; she devours them one at a time. Her eyes flutter close for a second as she crunches down, and a soft sound of pleasure escapes her.

One that hits a little close to home, to the sounds she made when it was just us and a bed.

“Oh my god,” she mumbles around the mouthful, quickly covering her lips with her fingers. She swallows, laughing a little at herself. “I’m so sorry. I have no manners tonight. It’s just…my cravings have been all over the place lately. Right now, my body is aching for anything fried and salty.”

I watch her, completely captivated. The sheer, unapologetic joy she takes in a simple onion ring is the most attractive thing I’ve seen all night. “Don’t you ever apologize for that,” I say, my voice low. I lean forward, nudging the basket closer to her.

She blushes, picking up another ring. “It’s just a weird phase. I’ll probably be onto something else next week.”

Reaching over to steal one of her cheese-coated fries, I feel her eyes as I devour it. If I have to guess, she’s fighting not to scold me for stealing.

“When those cravings hit, you text me. Whatever you’re aching for, wherever you are, I’ll bring it to you. No questions asked.”

Her eyes go wide. “Atlas, no. I couldn’t. That’s… that’s a huge bother. You don’t need to do that.”

“I wouldn’t mind.” The truth rolls out of me far too easily. “I’ll take any excuse to see you. Nothing is a bother when it comes to that.”

Her lips part on a soft, startled breath, and for a second, I think I’ve said too much, moved too fast. But then, as if she needs a shield, she suddenly shoves another onion ring into her mouth, hiding behind the bite.

She nods, a quick, jerky motion of surrender. Slowly, she swallows, and her voice is quieter, laced with a new, daring curiosity when she speaks. “What if I don’t want food? What if I want something else?”

My mouth twitches. I can tell her that whatever she wants, I’d stop at nothing to get her. “Anything you want. But I’m just a cop, and the town only pays so well.”

But I’d get her a diamond ring. Even if I don’t have enough money, I’ll find a way to make it happen.

The meal goes smoothly. In between bites, I pick out information one question at a time. Aiming to get to know her, I learn her favorite color is purple, her favorite flowers are carnations, and learn that her hobby through her shy admittance is collecting magnets. Her fridge is littered with them.

While I do not enjoy talking about myself, I find myself answering every question she shoots my way with an ease that surprises me.

She asks about the job, not with morbid curiosity, but with a genuine concern that makes me want to be a better man.

She asks about my family, and I tell her about my stubborn mother and my sister’s three hellion kids.

Hell, she’s the reason I’d want kids at all. Now that there’s a possibility, that may be why I’m clinging on so tightly.

Once our plates are clear and Kinsley’s returned with the bill, I’m not ready to call an end to this. Despite our surroundings, tonight has been one of the best in a long while.

The roar of the bar fades into a distant, meaningless hum. It has grown a little more crowded since we first arrived.

“How about we get out of here?” I ask, my voice barely rising above the noise, meant for her ears only. I gesture vaguely toward a group of guys cheering as their team scores, but the motion feels clumsy, my attention already pulled back to her like a magnet. “It’s getting kind of rowdy.”

She follows my gaze and nods, and the curve on her lips softens. “It’s a shame to end things so soon,” she says, and my own heart echoes the sentiment. “Maybe we can walk the food off? Stroll the town for a little bit. I can’t imagine I’ll be any safer next to the sheriff.”

The world narrows to the sound of her voice, to the promise in her words. A walk. More time. My heart doesn’t just skip a beat; it stutters, trips, and free-falls somewhere deep in my chest, leaving me breathless.

The truth of these feelings is a physical ache, a sweet, piercing certainty. She’s more than just on my mind; she’s the one shaping my thoughts. She’s not just the one I love; she’s the very foundation my heart beats against.

A few rough syllables is all I can manage, my throat tight with a feeling too vast for words. “Yeah. I think I’d like that.”