Page 4 of Protected by the Sheriff (Magnolia Falls #2)

Olivia

A s soon as I wake, I look outside and see my car is in the driveway.

I don’t know how it got there, but I can guess it has something to do with the asshole next door.

He’s insane. How dare he walk into The Lucky Horseshoe while I’m on a date and throw me over his shoulder like some kind of caveman? The man is certifiable.

We won’t even talk about how wet my panties were by the time I got home last night.

The way my body reacts to Mason Walker is not normal, and I have to avoid him at all costs.

Maybe I need a doctor because my body is wired all wrong.

As he carried me out of the bar over his shoulder, my pussy was pulsing, and I wanted to rub all over his big, hard body like a cat in heat.

I also wanted to fucking kill the son of a bitch. What the hell is his problem? He hates me, so I don’t understand why he won’t leave me be. If he knew how hot he makes me, he’d never let me live it down.

I get dressed and leave the house to meet Savannah at The Greasy Skillet. Declan is watching the kids so we can have our weekly breakfast together. He’s such a good husband and father, and I’m happy for my friend. She’s been to hell and back and deserves to be treated like the queen she is.

When I walk into the diner, Savannah is already over at our booth waiting for me.

The townspeople, especially the older men and women, are sitting and chatting.

When they see me, everyone goes quiet, and some even smile at me.

Oh hell. My cheeks burn as I realize they are whispering to one another and it’s about me.

I’m sure they all know Mason carried me out of the bar last night, and now the gossip train is in full motion.

When I sit down, my friend flashes a knowing smile at me. It makes my cheeks burn hotter. “Don’t say a word, Savannah Walker!”

“He was so fucking adorable carrying you out of The Lucky Horseshoe like a toddler having a tantrum because someone else was playing with his favorite toy.”

“SHUT UP! I am not his toy!”

“Olivia, why are you both being so stubborn? Just admit you like him and fuck his brains out.”

“Savannah, I hate him, and I can’t allow that line to be crossed when we are practically family. If things don’t work out, it could ruin things for you and the kids. I can’t risk that; plus, I can’t stand the giant ass.”

As Savannah continues on about how wonderful Mason is with her kids and what a great brother-in-law he is, I am hit with an idea. If that fucker wants to sabotage my dates, then I’m going to do things to annoy him to the point that he will finally leave me alone.

I know he’s only feeling obligated to care because he’s Declan’s brother, but he has to learn I’m not his problem.

“Savannah, can you get me his email address and his log-in information?”

“Whose?” she asks as she studies the menu.

“Mason’s. I want to show him if he wants to be annoying, I can annoy him back.”

“Liv,” she warns. “What are you up to?”

We order coffee, and I get fresh squeezed juice, some bacon, eggs, and toast with all the trimmings.

After I finish, I leave Savannah at the diner and head to work since Saturdays are one of my best days for business.

During the course of the day, a young girl comes in and gets a rose, a fifty-year-old woman gets her granddaughter’s name tattooed, and a man gets a tribute tattoo for his mother who passed away.

The tattoos aren’t anything difficult or atypical, but the rumble and vibration of the gun soothe any leftover anxiety and nerves from the situation with Mason.

Morris has been asking me out on a date for a while, but I was busy setting up and designing Branded.

I also don’t feel an ounce of attraction to the guy.

I mean, sure, he’s a nice-looking man, but there just isn’t any chemistry.

After multiple run-ins with Mason, I decided something had to give, so I gave Morris a chance.

The way he threw his hands up in surrender in the bar last night was ridiculous.

What kind of man lets someone come and kidnap his date that way?

What a pansy ass. I’ve got a strong in-your-face attitude, and I need a man who can handle that, not one who backs down so easily.

Morris definitely isn’t the man for me, but if it pisses Mason off, I’d go out with him again just for spite.

As I’m cleaning down my workstation, I get a text from Savannah with an email address and a password, followed by a message.

Van: Don’t you dare ever tell Mason or Declan that I snooped on Mason’s phone while he was outside talking to his brother. He left his phone on the table, and it wasn’t password protected.

Me: hahaha, thanks. You’re the best.

Van: OMG!!! He’s the sheriff. What if he finds out and arrests me?

Me: I’m sure Declan wouldn’t allow that to happen. Besides, it’s a harmless email address. You’re acting as if you committed an actual crime.

Van: Ugh… You are going to get me in trouble, woman.

Going to the back of the store and entering my office, I sit down at my desk and open my purple laptop.

Quickly searching on Google for erectile dysfunction treatments, I go to each website, subscribing to their newsletters and asking for more information.

Giggling, I can’t help feeling a sense of accomplishment knowing that tomorrow he’s going to open his computer up to tons of emails from these ridiculous sites. Most are trying to sell useless over-the-counter remedies and products.

Before going home for the night, I sit at my desk and get caught up on the paperwork for Branded. I have a stack of unopened mail sitting on my desk that I go through, and I notice an envelope from a company named Richards’ Land and Resorts.

Curious about what this could be, I tear the envelope open and unfold the letter.

It’s from a land development company that builds malls and resorts.

It’s an offer to buy my shop and the land it sits on.

There’s no way in hell I would sell, especially since I just put my entire life savings into this place.

I’ve heard some of the other business owners around town chatting about selling their land off when I’ve been in the diner and the bar, but I mind my own business.

Shrugging it off, I drop the letter in the trashcan below my desk. Shutting off the light, I walk out and lock the shop up for the night.

By the time I get into my car to go home, it’s late. My phone goes off with a text message.

UNKNOWN: Where the hell are you, Olivia?

Taken aback, I stare at my phone, utterly stunned.

An unknown number, and the text message is so…

aggressive. Who could it be? A wave of realization hits.

The situation is getting out of hand. Mason has no right to keep tabs on what I’m doing, where I’m at, or who I’m with. He needs to learn his place.