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“Phil,” I called out as I walked over, keeping my tone even. “You know you can’t park there.”
Phil turned to me, his face red with frustration. “I wasn’t going to be long, Sheriff! But this guy”—he jabbed a finger in Connor’s direction—“won’t let me leave!”
I stared at Connor, who shrugged as if to say,What are you gonna do about it?
I bit back my irritation, focusing on Phil. “Move your truck, Phil.”
“I can’t when he won’t let me.”
“Let the man go, Connor!” I said with exaggerated patience.
After a pause, Connor straightened and strolled away from the car.
“Get in your car, Phil! You’ve been warned once today, and you’re getting a ticket for this.”
Phil opened his mouth to argue, but one glance at Connor, who now stood beside me, was enough to change his mind. He grumbled under his breath, then shuffled over to his truck, giving Connor a wide berth as he climbed inside. I scribbled down the details on the ticket, pressing harder than necessary as I filled out the information.
Once I was done, I tore the ticket from the pad and handed it to him, ensuring he knew this wasn’t asuggestion. “You have ten days to pay,” I said, keeping my voice firm. “You can handle it online or in person at the courthouse. Don’t make me come after you for it.”
Phil took the ticket, his face a mix of irritation and resignation. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll get it done,” he grumbled, folding the ticket and shoving it into his glovebox.
“See that you do,” I replied, not letting up. “Don’t let me catch you parked in that spot again, or it’ll be more than just a fine.”
He gestured at Connor. “You gonna have words with this asshole? Sitting on my car like he owned it.”
I held in my reaction. Connor should not have been leaning there. He was causing an obstruction and could have damaged the car, but Phil shouldn’t have parked in the space again.
“You can go now, Phil.”
He mumbled something under his breath before turning to leave. I watched him go, ensuring he drove off without any more incidents.
As Phil drove off, I turned back to Connor, who was watching me with an infuriatingly smug expression.
“What the f—what was that?” I asked.
Connor raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying my frustration. “Nothing. Just helping, Sheriff.”
“Yeah, well, maybe try not helping at all next time,” I shot back, though my heart wasn’t in it.
For a split second, I saw it—a flash of that pain in his eyes again, raw and unguarded, and it reminded me of the look I’d seen earlier. Was there more going on with him than he was letting on? He seemed on edge, brittle, as if something would make him snap.
For a second, I wondered about checking him for weapons in case hedidsnap. What did I know about Connor Mason apart from the fact he loved to needle me, wanted to take me for a beer, had kissed me, and got in my way? I’d run all the background checks I could, and Quinn vouched for him. Hell, anyone connected to Quinn and Lennox Ranch vouched for him.
I shook my head, pushing the thought of Connor losing his shit away. I had enough to deal with without trying to figure out what was happening in Connor’s head.
“Don’t you have something better to do?” I asked him, my tone sharper than I intended.
“Just looking after my town, Sheriff,” Connor replied, his voice smooth and unbothered. Then he turned and strolled away as if he hadn’t been a part of what had happened, as if the whole interaction meant nothing to him.
Watching him leave, I couldn't shake one question: what did Connor Masonreallydo all day? Always around, yet somehow out of reach when it came to figuring out what he was up to. He worked security for Quinn, yeah, but what else? It wasn’t as though Whisper Ridge was full of danger.
As he walked away, my gaze followed him—tracing the way his leather jacket hugged his muscular frame, how his jeans fit snugly over his firm ass and powerful thighs, and the way his broad shoulders moved with each step. I wasn’t staring. Not really. I was just… observing.
But then, as if sensing my thoughts, Connor turned his head and caught me checking him out. He didn’t miss abeat, his lips curling into that infuriating grin before he winked at me.
I could feel the heat rising in my face, but I refused to give him the satisfaction of looking away first. Instead, I stood there, arms crossed, watching him disappear around the corner, my mind a tangled mess of irritation, confusion, and something else I didn’t want to admit.
Lust. Or anger? Or both?
