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“What? Why? Is everything okay?”
I could see the question in his eyes—Archie wasn’t his son, and Ezekiel hadn’t been in Whisper Ridge long enough to have Archie calling him dad.
“Archie wants to see Grace, wants to know Grace. Calls her his sister.”
“She’s not his real sister,” Ezekiel amended, defensive, and then he shook his head. “He was always good with her when I was on the road. They should know about each other. I just never thought he’d want to, but with his mom being as she is, and…” He slumped then, sitting back on the porch, and I crouched in front of him. “I tried to stay with her, but I couldn’t, and she wouldn’t let me take him with me, but she couldn’t stop me taking Grace, and shit… I meant to go back, but the work here is long and…”
I knocked his elbow when he went quiet. “Can I tell Archie you’ll call him? Can we figure out a visit?”
He shot me a worried stare, and then his expression cleared, and he nodded. “Please.”
I was back in the car after meeting little Grace, who was this cute little thing who loved Barbies and missed her big brother Archie. The fact that she remembered him even at three made her dad pause, and then he scooped her up in a hug, apologizing for not visiting Archie and the woman she called Momma-Lou.
This was one of the easiest PI jobs I’d ever completed, and it gave me the warm fuzzies, so I threw caution to the wind, and when I got back to town, I broke into Neil’s place, and then sat on his sofa, waiting for him to react to the silent alarm I deliberately set off.
I needed to be inside him, and he needed to know that and admit he needed me too, and we should scratch that itch.
Then we’d be done.
Neil came home with his weapon drawn, I remained calm, sitting casually on his comfy stuffed sofa in the dimly lit living room. The room was filled with the soft glow of a lamp, the sound of rain pattering against the windows, and the heater humming in the background.
Neil’s eyes flickered with anger and confusion as he saw me. He locked his gun away in the safe. “I could arrest you for breaking and entering,” he said, his tone icy.
“You won’t,” I replied, a smirk tugging at my lips.
“I will,” he insisted, but there was a hint of hesitation.
“You won’t.”
“It’s like you’re stalking me.”
“Am I, though?”
“You broke into my house.”
I’d give him that. “Sure.”
“And you won’t leave me alone, which is textbook stalking.”
“You know you don’t want me to leave you alone.”
He huffed at that. “Fuck’s sake.”
“I was just waiting for you.”
Neil’s eyes narrowed, and I could see the tension in his jaw. The rain outside continued its relentless assault on the windows, the noise only amplifying the charged atmosphere between us. I could feel the heat building, the anticipation. I was hard, and I could see the outline of Neil’s arousal tenting the front of his uniform pants.
Was a man ever as sexy as Neil Windham?
“You should come here and sit on my lap,” I suggested, my voice low and coaxing.
“No,” he snapped, but I could see the conflict in his eyes.
“Come on, Sheriff,” I teased, my voice dripping with cockiness and desire.
He cursed under his breath, the irritation clear in his tone. But then he was moving, crossing the room in a few quick strides. He straddled my lap, his body tense and warm against mine.
“I hate you,” Neil muttered, his voice a mix of anger and something else—something needier.
