Page 12 of Protected by the Sheriff (Magnolia Falls #2)

Olivia

A young eighteen-year-old girl on vacation came into the shop earlier today and asked for a dolphin tattoo.

It’s always a dolphin or a butterfly. I swear, these young girls have no creative vision, and they certainly don’t want my input.

My job is to complete the tattoo and get paid despite knowing she’ll regret it when she hits thirty.

Not my problem. Even if I gave my advice, I doubt she’d listen.

Once I’m done, I go to my office where I open my mail. There are multiple letters from Richards’ Land and Resorts. Without reading them, I casually toss them in the trashcan beside the desk. Hopefully, he got the hint when I told him I would never sell the business I sunk my life savings into.

After I’m done, I decide it’s time to go home.

A home where I’m alone. I didn’t grow up with a large family; my parents did the best they could, and they weren’t bad people.

They gave me a good childhood, but we lost my father recently and ever since, my mother has been disconnected.

She refuses to come and visit and rarely returns my calls.

When I went to visit her, I felt like a stranger to her.

It’s not her trying to hurt me, but she’s grieving.

My father’s death has ruined her. I never want to love another person to the point of my own ruin.

Arriving home, I see multiple bags sitting on my porch.

I look over at Mason’s house and see him holding a beer and giving me a nod.

Quickly, I avert my gaze, keeping my eyes on the ground, and open the front door.

Looking down at the bags, I frown when I notice they are filled with groceries.

What the fuck? I didn’t order a grocery delivery.

I shrug, realizing it’s too late to call and cancel the order.

Once I’ve carried all the bags into the kitchen, unpacked them, and put everything away, I head to my bedroom where I look through my sparse clothing to find a T-shirt of Mason’s to sleep in and a pair of panties.

The scent of his cologne hangs in the air, so I know he’s been here.

I blow out a frustrated breath as I look around trying to figure out what to do next.

This motherfucker never stops. There is no way I can let him think he’s winning.

Looking around my room, my eyes stop on a pile of art supplies on my desk. There’s a container of glitter laying on top of the art caddy. Mason doesn’t like color or glitz. In fact, he hates it. Sparkly shit, he calls it. Well, let’s give him a taste of all the sparkly shit.

The next morning, when Mason’s patrol car pulls out of the driveway, I run to the hardware store downtown.

Mr. Patrick smiles knowingly as he loads the supplies into my car.

There’s epoxy and a lot of glitter. I guess gossip of the feud between Mason and me has gotten around town.

I’m sure Knox, Piper, and Hadley have helped spread the news.

Upon arriving at Mason’s, I let myself in and unload the supplies.

Returning to his bathroom, I decorate the floor with glitter.

He’ll be in for an enormous shock when he sees this.

A wide smile spreads across my face. He shouldn’t have stolen my clothes.

If he wants to steal the color out of my life, then I will give him some in his.

Once I’m finished, I wipe the sweat from my forehead and clean up the mess. The epoxy is quick-drying, so Mason’s bathroom floor should be shiny and glittery and more importantly, dry by the time he arrives home tonight.

A wave of satisfaction washes over me as I lock his door and head back to my house.

A few hours later, the sound of Mason screaming “OLIVIA” carries through the night air.

“That’s 3-2, asshole.” I’m going to win this war and won’t stop until I do.

The next morning, I dress once again in Mason’s gray sweatpants, this time cut into capris, and pair them with a T-shirt I’ve slashed at the shoulder and the collar so it dips down into my cleavage; the hem shortened to show as much of my stomach as possible.

Folding down the jogging pants at the top, I go as low as I can, exposing as much skin as possible. I know it drives Mason crazy, especially knowing other men will see me wearing something so revealing. Honestly, I don’t care. This will teach him not to fuck with my clothes.

When I get to the shop, it’s still early.

No one else has made it to work yet, but I immediately notice something isn’t right.

As I open the front door, a gasp escapes me.

The front door is unlocked, and a trail of destruction leads to the reception area.

The main desk is smashed, the computer lies in pieces, and debris is scattered everywhere.

As I make my way through the carnage, shattered glass crunches underfoot, spreading everywhere, the sound like a thousand tiny, icy whispers.

When I finally catch my breath and look down, I see a single red brick on the floor. There’s a note attached with a rubber band wrapped around it. As I pick up the worn, creased note and unfold it, a sob escapes me, a wave of grief washing over me.

You were warned to sell the shop. This is your last chance. Sell it, or we will take it.

With tears streaming down my face, I frantically dial Mason’s number, my fingers trembling as I hit the call button.

“Sheriff Walker speaking.”

A strangled sob escapes as I struggle to form words. “Mason?”

Trying to catch my breath, I sniffle again. My chest aches with each shallow inhale.

“Liv? Are you okay?” Mason asks with worry in his voice.

“Mason, I need you,” I whisper

“Baby, I’m on my way. Are you alright? Talk to me, Olivia.” I can hear him getting into his car and starting it as he speaks.

“Everything is destroyed, Mason. Someone destroyed everything I’ve worked for.”

“Baby, calm down and breathe. I’m coming, and I’ll take care of everything,” he vows.

“Please hurry. I can’t do this alone, Mase.”

“Baby girl, you never have to be alone again.”

Once I know Mason is coming, I send a text to Knox, Hadley, and Piper, letting them know not to come to work today or any day for a while.

There’s no way I can open the shop until the damage is repaired.

It took my entire life savings to buy the building, then renovate it, and there’s nothing left.

The only thing I can hope for is that insurance will help cover the damage.

I hear gravel crunching under tires outside and look out the broken glass window to see Mason walking towards me with purpose. Throwing the door open, I run as he opens his arms, and I jump into them, feeling a sense of calm and relief wash over me.

“Baby, are you alright?” he breathes.

The musky scent of his cologne—rich, earthy, and slightly sweet—envelops me as I breathe him in. “I’m okay. I just don’t know what to do. It’s a mess, Mason.”

Putting me down, Mason reaches up and grabs my chin, locking eyes with mine. “I’m going to take care of everything. Liv, everything will be alright. I promise.”

Nodding my head up and down, I stay silent because I want to believe him, but I don’t know if I can.