Page 26 of The Bodyguard

“Hey. You’re back and I’m still here, and we can, well, you can let me figure out who you are, Brin. Say yes. Have dinner with me.”

I blinked. Wait, did Garrett Pine just ask me out on a date?

“It’s not a date or anything,” he continued quickly. “I don’t do that anymore. Burgers and reconnecting. That’s it.”

Right. Of course. I thought about telling him to go screw himself, but then I thought he was right. Dusty Creek was a small place. We were both living in it. If I had matured in the last five years, like I hoped I had, then our having a civil conversation wasn’t the worst idea.

He was still technically my closest neighbor.

And the sheriff now. I had no plans to tell him about what had happened in LA or Dallas. Not when I knew how he would react. It would be casual.

“Okay.”

“Good. I’ll come out here and pick you up after my shift.”

“Just tell me what time and I’ll meet you there.”

He frowned. “I can pick you up, Brin. Drop you off after on my way home.”

“It’s not a date, Garrett. I can meet you there.”

I felt like he was about dig in, which would have made me dig in harder. Because the one thing he had to be absolutely certain of was that I no longer had any feelings for him whatsoever.

Even if I wasn’ttotallycertain of that myself.

But I was done embarrassing myself in front of Garrett Pine.

“Okay. Around six work for you?”

I nodded.

“See you then.”

He made his way back to his truck and I couldn’t not watch him. No formal uniform now that he was the sheriff, just jeans and a chambray shirt with the Dusty Creek Sheriff’s Department logo over the right pocket. But it was the way he moved. Something that told everyone around him that he held the power.

That he was the strongest, the fastest, the bravest.

Damn him for being hot. It made the not having a crush on him thing way more difficult.

Dinner. With. Garrett.

What could go wrong with that?

“Hey Garrett,” I called out to him just as he was about to drive away. His window rolled down. “Congratulations on the promotion.”

“It was an election,” he called back. “But thanks.”

Then I was waving and he was driving off.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Great. I had already run but now I was rattled again because I was going to be having dinner, not a date, with Garrett Pine.

When it came to this level of stress there was only one thing to do…bake. Hate baking, where I created these masterful, sinful treats I could not eat. Feeling like I did today it was going to have to be…

“Cupcakes,” I muttered to myself.

* * *