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I toss him the ball, and he catches it.
Because he’s right. I can’t concentrate on the game when she’s sitting there, fucking distracting and pretty. It’s annoying as hell. I head over to the bathrooms, freshen up, then wind my way back to the cluster of cops and their wives. I approach the tree from behind, admiring Marci’s hair, the way it rests against her back, a river of red, and?—
“…saying, you need to be careful.”
The voice comes from Hamill’s wife, I think. She’s older than Marci, her dark hair piled into a messy bun, and her thin lips pursed. She gives Hamill a hard time, but he’s one of the few guys who’s faithful to his wife. It’s the reason I like him better than a lot of the other deputies. Fuck bro code. If you can’t keep your dick in your pants when you’re married, you don’t deserve my respect.
Marci takes a bite of her donut, eating daintily in front of the girls, and it irritates me.
“What do you mean by that, Sheryll?” Marci asks, after a beat.
An awkward silence follows.
“What I mean,” Sheryll says, “is that he’s… Marci, honey, he’s a player. He’s not the type who settles down. That’s a pretty rock on your finger, butbe careful.”
“Sheryll,” Marci says, and then sighs. “Oh, Sheryll. That’s sweet and all, but don’t talk about Jesse like that. Just because he didn’t date anyone long-term, doesn’t mean he’s nottrustworthy. In fact, I’d say that makes him more trustworthy because he didn’t offer women false hope or settle for less than he wanted or deserved. He’s a better man than any?—”
“Better man?” Deputy Dick approaches. “I wouldn’t finish that sentence if I were you.”
“Or what?” I stride over.
Davis, whose lips are peeled over his teeth like a wolf before it attacks, straightens instantly. He sniffs and folds his arms like I didn’t catch him talking to Marci disrespectfully.
I put my hand out to Marci and lift her into my arms.
“What are you going to do, Nate? Huh? What are you going to do if she finishes her sentence?” I ask, my vision tunneling on him.
Marci presses a palm to my chest and strokes her fingers beneath my shirt.
“Relax, Taylor,” she murmurs.
“Talk to my wife like that again, and I’ll?—”
Marci presses a finger to my mouth, and distracts me. I meet her gaze, my anger cooling.
“Don’t,” she mouths. And then, “Sheriff.”
She’s right. I’m going to run for sheriff. It’s a popularity contest. And Nate wants a rise out of me because it’ll prove I’m not fit to take care of this town.
The fact that Marci cares about that in the face of being confronted by her shitty ex, the one I’m pretty sure is responsible for her avoiding relationships for years, evaporates my last reserve of control.
I remove her finger from my lips, slide my hand into the hair at the base of her neck, and take her mouth.
Marci stiffens and then melts into me, releasing a tiny gasp against my lips. I take her hungrily, greedy for her tongue, her taste, her fucking soul. The kiss spirals, breathless, heated,nearly pornographic, and I break it before I take things too far. I could make this woman my religion after that kiss.
“Get it together, Taylor,” Nate says. “Do you need a fucking knife and fork?”
“What can I say? We’re in our newlywed phase.”
Nate blows out a breath. “When did you get married?”
“Yesterday,” Marci puts in, quickly, raising her left hand to show off the engagement ring. “We couldn’t wait.” We haven’t discussed when we’re going to go from fake engaged to fake married, but god damn if the phrase “my wife” didn’t slip out without trying.
“I don’t see no wedding ring,” Nate says.
“Like I said, we couldn’t wait,” Marci replies.
I hold her closer, my hand cupping her waist. The other women excuse themselves and head back to join the husbands who’ve finished their game. The kids are over playing ball on the other side of the park together, but they’re heading back too.
