Secrets, Page 4

  “I can hold my liquor, Boss, besides it’s almost punching out time.”

  Hank shook his head. His eyes moved to Arissa where he caught that flush across her cheeks. He’d thought about her throughout the day. He probably shouldn’t have, but he did. No one could keep a count of how many times he reached for his cell to message her; it was that many. From the little time he stood there, the conversation he heard Arissa and Josephine having, Summerville was not making a great first impression on Arissa.

  Jo eyed her boss from head to toe. “Looks like you’re already punching out. You heading over to Moe’s?” Jo asked, taking the plate of brownies and walking to her desk. “Arissa made these for us as a thank you. You should try one. They’re delicious.”

  Arissa was wishing she’d had another hit of that rum. Maybe it was because she was feeling pretty good, but not good enough to not care that she brought the man brownies, her actions not fooling anyone, or maybe it was because he likely overheard her saying she thought he’d make a great stripper, knowing that every other warm-blooded female in town felt the same draw to him, but at the moment she couldn’t look at him. The tile on the station house floor was fascinating. Maybe she should take up the old men across the street on their offer and go sit on their laps until the effects of the coconut rum faded enough for her to drive.

  Hank was gazing at the top of Arissa’s head, who kept her focus fixed to the floor, as he made his way through the bullpen. “Brownies, huh?” Hank said to no one in particular. It was then Arissa raised her head, and when Hank got her eyes, they were soft. He held back what those eyes were doing to him. But he also noticed the slight flush of pink glowing on her cheeks grew darker the closer he got. He looked from her to Jo. “Yeah, gonna head over there, find out the outcome of the dart game and grab something to eat.” He stopped next to Jo’s desk, snatched a brownie and popped it into his mouth and mumbled, “Mmm.”

  “Arissa’s had two hits of rum, doesn’t seem to hold her liquor like me. You should take her with you, get some food in her stomach,” Jo said, then added, “As the sheriff, public safety is your concern.” Jo’s eyes twinkled as she meddled.

  Hank started to cough through his chewing and swallowing of the delicious chocolatey treat. He was successful in getting it all down. He glanced over at Arissa to see if he could read the expression on her face. It was his chance to get to know more about her. Her being here, bringing him brownies, he knew she wanted to get to know him better too, but she was city, through and through. He wasn’t going down that road again, despite how tempting that road was. “Maybe she’d rather go home, you pass the old Meyer place on your way.” He looked at Jo. “You can drive her.”

  Arissa wasn’t so drunk that she didn’t realize immediately she’d misread the situation. Not a spark, just friendly. She couldn’t be too upset about it, not learning that she was just one of many who had fallen for the sheriff’s rugged good looks and sexy smile. Though it was her first day in town, and already she’d brought the man brownies. She wondered if that was a record, and if she would win some kind of award…like maybe a frisk down. She chuckled at the thought. Looked up, saw Hank and Jo watching her. She jumped up from her spot, like the chair was on fire. When the rum wore off, she’d be embarrassed. Right now she was amused. Walking backward toward the door, she said, “It’s fine. I’m going to walk around town for a bit. See what’s here.” Her back hit the door, she pushed against it because even realizing her error, just looking at him, she still wanted to commit a crime. “Ah, thanks again for your help earlier.” She turned from them and almost made her escape.

  Hank watched as Arissa fumbled. He felt like a fucking dick. If she only knew what he really wanted to do, she’d be fumbling for an entirely different reason. So right before the door shut, he called, “Arissa?”

  Her shoulders slumped, her hand still on the door. She didn’t look back when she said, “Yeah.”

  “Wanna go over to Moe’s, grab a bite? I can introduce you to a few people,” Hank offered.

  She did look back then. He watched her face take on a whole other look, and felt that look in his gut.

  Sheriff Hank Weathers was a nice man. He didn’t want her company, but he was offering anyway. She understood even more his appeal. He wasn’t just sexy; he was also a gentleman. She let him off the hook. “Thank you, Sheriff, but I’m really not hungry and I do have a lot of unpacking to do.” She smiled, as she pushed the door open. “I’ll catch ya later.”

  Josephine watched the interaction between Hank and Arissa with a bright smile on her face. She chimed in, “If you need anything, Sugar, you call Hank!”

  She was sure Hank got more calls than he wanted from damsels in distress. She’d spare him from another. “Sure thing,” she lied, then fled.

  Hank whipped his head to glare at Jo, before looking back at where Arissa had disappeared. “Thanks, for the brownies,” he called after her and moved his squinting eyes to Jo. “What the fuck was that all about?”

  Jo looked innocent when she replied, “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Bullshit,” Hank grumbled, snatched the plate of brownies and started for the door. “Cause of that shit you pulled, you don’t get any fucking brownies,” he told her as he held the plate in the air. He didn’t wait for Jo to respond, but as the door was closing behind him, he heard a few choice words thrown his way. Hank placed the brownies in the passenger seat of his SUV, and after he shut the door, his eyes roamed the street. He didn’t see Arissa anywhere; she must have slipped into a store. Hank started down the street to begin his night. Dinner at Moe’s, tossing a few beers back while talking, and maybe throwing a few darts. He did the same routine every night, just some nights he changed up where he ate. But there was one thing that remained the same, he always ended his night with a hot shower and relieving himself. Only this time, he had a new woman to star in his fantasy.

  * * *

  Arissa looked across the wide-open space. If not for the pungent smell of chicken shit, it would be an idyllic spot.

  “They roam free. Never caged my chickens and never will,” Ed Porter said proudly as he puffed up his chest. “Best free range, organic chicken eggs in the county.”

  “That’s what I heard.” She’d been to Maisy’s Market for groceries and the owner herself was raving about Ed’s eggs. The drive out to the farm was beautiful; sitting on the edge of town, all that open space and livestock…it was picture perfect. She’d past a house on the way, it stuck out because it was the only house she’d seen outside of town. Surrounded by rolling hills of green, the dark blue arts and craft style house with creamy white trim was nestled right in the middle. She’d live on the front porch. Rocking in one of the chairs, looking out into the distance enjoying nothing but nature.

  “Have you ever collected eggs?” Ed asked, as he pushed his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

  “Outside of egg hunts on Easter, no.”

  “The chickens roam free, but they lay their eggs in the hen house,” Ed said, and gestured to a large blue building in the middle of the chicken pasture. “The chickens usually mind their own business, but sometimes they can get testy. If you’re calm, they will be calm too.”

  “Okay,” Arissa replied, appreciating the warning, but they were chickens, cute, adorable chickens.

  Stepping into the hen house, she expected it to smell, but the strongest odor came from the hay that filled the cubbies that lined the walls of the structure. Several were occupied with hens. Arissa felt a moment of guilt, taking their eggs but she did love eggs…fried, omelets, salad, even just boiled with a little salt and pepper. And thinking about that in here felt wrong.

  Ed handed her a cardboard container. “Just pick the ones you like,” he said, smiling as he grabbed his own container and started toward one of the cubbies. Arissa didn’t move as quickly because the chickens were looking at them, more like staring, and why n
ot. Ed and she were stealing their eggs. Her attention then moved to the eggs, they weren’t all the same size or color, some the shells looked almost white, and some were very dark brown. Some had speckles and some were blemish free.

  “Leave them on the counter in a bowl. With eggs this fresh, you don’t need to refrigerate them,” Ed offered as he went about collecting.

  Arissa moved to one of the cubbies not occupied. The eggs were warm to the touch. There was something soothing about collecting them, if you could ignore the fact that the chickens were watching.

  She was just collecting her last egg when Ed said, “Don’t be alarmed.”

  Why did people say that? Telling you not to be alarmed immediately made a person alarmed. “What’s wrong?” she asked as she turned to see one chicken blocking their exit. It was just one chicken, but she was squawking and pacing.

  “She looks angry,” Arissa whispered, and why wouldn’t she be. She and Ed were thieves.

  “Just be calm. We can try to walk right by her. Sometimes she allows it,” Ed said, and started toward the chicken. Arissa had never seen a pissed off chicken before, but this chicken was pissed. She moved quickly, flapping her wings and lunged at Ed.

  Arissa then realized what he said. “She sometimes allows it?” It was a chicken, not a prison guard.

  “Hilda, calm down,” Ed whispered, stepping back and holding up his hand.

  Arissa’s head jerked to Ed. “Hilda, the chicken?”

  “I wanted to name her Hyacinth, but that didn’t go over too well.” Ed grinned. “So, Hilda it is, name is fitting.”

  “Okay,” Arissa said, not sure how else to respond to Ed’s observation. “Will she peck at us?” Arissa was wearing boots and jeans, how painful was a chicken peck? Looking at Hilda, who seriously looked like she was yelling at them with how she was carrying on, maybe it would hurt a lot. “So now what?”

  “I’ll just call the sheriff.”

  Arissa’s head almost snapped off her neck with how fast she jerked it to Ed. “The sheriff?”

  Her first encounter with him he saved her from drowning in her own kitchen and now he was going to save her from a temperamental chicken. She was really making a good impression. “Maybe I could talk to her,” Arissa suggested.

  “She doesn’t listen to anyone but Hank.”

  Arissa’s jaw dropped. Was he serious? “You’re joking, right?” The sheriff was a kind of chicken whisperer. That had to be a joke.

  Ed didn’t even crack a smile. “I’m not kidding. Hank has a way with females, all females.”

  Of course he did. She wasn’t immune. “Let me try before you call the sheriff.”

  Arissa hadn’t even made a move toward Hilda when she stopped pacing, turned to Arissa and leveled hard eyes on her. It was a chicken, but she could practically see the bubble over the chicken’s head, her imitation of Dirty Harry challenging Arissa to make her day. She stepped back. “Okay, maybe you should call the sheriff.”

  Ed didn’t miss a beat. “I already texted him. He should be here shortly.”

  “Does he get called out here often to calm Hilda?” Arissa was joking.

  Ed wasn’t. “More than he likes.”

  It hadn’t been more than ten minutes that Hilda held them hostage. Ed was sharing recipes. Arissa was certain the sharing of recipes involving the eggs was pissing Hilda off more because she was quite sure Hilda spoke fluent English. Ed stopped sharing when they heard a loud whistle. Arissa noticed two things. Ed grinned and Hilda, who had been really working herself up, seemed to calm down, her pacing stopped, her head turned to the sound.

  “That would be Hank.”

  If she hadn’t seen it, she wouldn’t have believed it. But not only did Hilda calm down, Arissa could have sworn she was preening. What the fuck? Though knowing the sheriff’s appeal crossed species made her feel better.

  Hank whistled one more time when he reached the open door of the hen house and caught sight of Arissa and Ed tucked into the corner of the pen.

  “There’s my pretty girl,” Hank called to Hilda. And if you hadn’t known Hilda was a chicken through and through, you would have thought she was a dog in a chicken costume because she turned from her guard and started toward Hank. Hank crouched down to ruffle the top of her head. “Thought I told you that you needed to be my good girl. Can’t be coming out here all the time, Hilda.” Hank looked past Hilda who was now running circles around him and said, “Thought I told you to wait until she’s in her nest box so you could shut and lock her in before you start collecting eggs?”

  Ed looked contrite. “I know. She wasn’t here, but I swear she’s part bloodhound. Came running as soon as we entered.” Ed grinned. “She’s so much like Hyacinth. It’s like she’s been cloned.”

  Arissa wasn’t paying attention to the conversation. She was speechless. The sheriff did have a way with females. Calming an irate chicken with nothing more than a few words and a head rub. Watching him, she could admit that would have worked on her too. Watching turned to staring, taking in the faded jeans that hugged the muscles of his thighs, and the tan cotton of his uniform shirt that stretched over muscles she wanted to take her time exploring. His dark hair was stirred by the gentle breeze, and she had the craziest urge to drag her fingers through that hair and yank his mouth to hers. God, she wanted a taste, so much so she actually ran her tongue along her lower lip imagining his taste there.

  Hank chuckled, rose and looked at Arissa. Eyeing her from top to bottom. Starting with a straw hat, she was dressed in overalls, rolled up at the bottom, a hot pink tee that looked to be two sizes too small. It was the boots on her feet that had Hank holding back a grin, floral rubber garden boots. Jesus. She was the epitome of every man’s dream of the farmer’s daughter, including his own. “Arissa.” He nodded once in greeting.

  She tried not to watch the play on his muscles as he stood up, but failed. Lifting her gaze to his face and those dark eyes that a woman, or chicken, could get lost in she replied, “Hi, Sheriff. Thank you for coming to the rescue…again.”

  Hank smiled at her, but it was the thought that was currently filming through his head that had that smile turning into a full grin. How he thought of her last night while he was in the shower. How him coming to her house to shut off the valve ended in them fucking on her kitchen table. He shook the thought from his head when Hilda squawked.

  “It’s my job,” he said before he looked down and snapped his fingers. Hilda stopped dead in her tracks. He tucked his hand in his pocket and grabbed a handful of pumpkin seeds he always brought for Hilda. He tossed them on the ground and she took no time in chowing down. Hank gestured with his head toward the door to the coop. “You all better get going now.”

  Ed waited for Arissa, following her out, then they both waited for Hank. Arissa was smiling to herself. The sheriff said it was his job. It really wasn’t. She liked that he took a genuine interest in his town. It was why Summerville was as friendly and close as it was. With every encounter Arissa had with the sheriff, the more she liked the man he was.

  Hank crouched one more time, let out a small whistle and got Hilda’s attention. He looked her in her little beady eyes. “Hilda, can’t be my girl if you’re gonna act like this anytime people come around.” As if the chicken understood what Hank was saying, she bowed her head and looked to his feet. “I gotta go.” He ruffled her head again, stood, and walked out of the pen. Ed was smiling proudly and Arissa had a look on her face, one Hank could not read.

  “What?” he asked her.

  Hearing him tell Hilda she couldn’t be his girl, Arissa was jealous of a chicken. She hardly knew the man, but she’d be lying if she said she didn’t find him fascinating, so much going on under that sexy outer package. Did he have a girl? He had to, a man like him, and now it wasn’t just a chicken Arissa was jealous of. She wasn’t about to share all of that with him, so instead she said,
“I’ve just never seen that before.” Looking down at Hilda, who was a different chicken than the angry one that trapped them in the hen house, she added, “That was incredible.” Her eyes lifted, a small smile played around her mouth. “It’s not just humans charmed by you.” She couldn’t read his reaction, but he definitely had one.

  Jesus. Those fucking lips. They were great, plump, pink, and looked soft as a cloud. But smiling at him the way she was, he felt that deep down. He wanted to see that smile directed toward him more. He shrugged at her comment and shared, “You should see me wrangle some pussy.”

  Ed watched Arissa’s mouth drop open and he roared with laughter. “He’s talking about Vern’s two cats, she lets them out like they’re dogs, then calls Hank to go find them.”

  Hank watched Arissa’s head turn slowly toward him, her eyes finding his. He winked at her. Arissa’s mind went elsewhere, as her body grew warm wishing for some wrangling by the sheriff. She simply nodded in understanding at Ed.

  “I better get these eggs in the house,” Ed said, and started toward his house in a hurry.

  Hank never took his focus off Arissa. “Speaking of pussy.” He let his eyes drift down to the juncture between her thighs before moving them back up to her soulful brown eyes. “You like cats?”

  “More now than I did before,” Arissa choked out, her legs feeling slightly weak from that look. “You?”

  Hank took a few steps, stopped next to Arissa and spoke in a low deep voice. “I love a good piece of pussy.” He heard the hitch in her breath then added, “But, yeah, I like cats too.” Then he continued toward his SUV, calling back to her, “Just letting you know Vern’s cat is about to have a litter if you’re interested.”

  Arissa was about to come, right there in Ed’s front yard holding her hard won eggs. The man was dangerous, strolling to his car looking like sin and knowing he was the law in town, it was a delicious combination. Her mouth opened and the words just came out. “I’m interested.” She wasn’t talking about the cats.