Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

NEIL

I woke up, and this time I wasn't alone. Connor was sprawled next to me, fast asleep, the sheet barely covering the swell of his ass. Where was the all-action hero now? Loose-limbed and sleeping right where I could touch him. And I wanted to touch him.

"You need to wake up," I said, my voice soft but firm.

Connor stirred, his sleepy, gorgeous eyes blinking open. His short, dark hair was spiked and messy, and a sleep crease marked one cheek. He was beautiful like this, soft and sweet, and that was all there was for a moment.

Then he raised a single eyebrow, smirked at me, and reality came rushing back.

"Morning, babe," he said, his voice husky from sleep, a slow, lazy smile spreading across his face.

I couldn't help but smile back, though I tried to suppress it. "Don't ‘babe' me."

"You liked it when I called you that last night."

"I didn't. "

He smirked again. "Maybe it only works when my cock is in your ass, babe ," he deadpanned.

I ignored him, "You need to get moving."

He stretched, the sheet slipping further down, exposing more of his toned body. "Why rush? I was enjoying the view," he teased, stroking a finger along my hip bone, getting dangerously close to my morning wood.

I rolled my eyes, but the warmth in my chest betrayed my irritation. "Because you can't stay here."

Connor propped himself up on one elbow, his eyes locking onto mine. "And why not? You seemed to enjoy my company last night."

I felt a flush creeping up my neck. "That's not the point. I have responsibilities, and you have … whatever it is you do."

He chuckled, the sound low and rumbling. "Tracking down leads, solving mysteries, driving you crazy. You know, the usual."

I shook my head, trying to keep my composure. "Just … shower and get dressed. Use this bathroom. There's a new toothbrush under the sink. I'll make some coffee."

I couldn't help but glance back at him as I left. He was already up, stretching with a cat-like grace, the sheet forgotten on the floor. For a moment, I just stood there, taking him in. God, what that cock had done to me last night.

He caught me staring and grinned, pointing at his erection. "Like what you see, Sheriff?"

I turned away. "Just hurry the fuck up, asshole."

"Will do, babe ."

I hope to hell he didn't hear me growl .

I hurried to the other bathroom as fast as I could without looking like an idiot, showered at hyper-speed, brushed my teeth, dressed in my uniform, and headed to the kitchen, all in the space of five minutes, easily beating him there.

The scent of brewing coffee filled the small kitchen, mingling with the sounds of Connor in the shower and then getting dressed. Despite the complications, despite everything, there was a strange sense of normalcy on this chaotic morning.

As he joined me in the kitchen, back in his jeans and Iron Maiden T-shirt, he leaned against the counter, watching me with those piercing eyes. "So, what's on your agenda for today?"

I handed him a mug of coffee, trying to ignore how my heart skipped a beat when our fingers touched. "Same as always. Keeping this town in one piece and safe from idiot SEALs who go around causing trouble."

Connor took a sip, his eyes never leaving mine. "Sounds like a plan."

We stood there silently, the morning light filtering through the curtains, casting a warm glow over everything. At least the world outside could wait for now, but soon, he'd need to get out.

He stepped into my space, placed his coffee on the counter, then relieved me of mine and put it next to his.

"I need a goodbye kiss," he murmured and cradled my face, tilting my head, his pillow-soft lips touching mine, a featherlight touch with the tip of his tongue. Then in a second of combustion, he devoured me, and I let him.

I had no regrets .

Until he said goodbye at the back door. "See you later, babe ."

I threw the nearest thing I had to hand, a dishcloth, which hit the doorframe and made no impact on the asshole at all. He left, chuckling, and somehow, as I loaded the two mugs into my half-size dishwasher, I realized one thing.

I was already missing the fucker.

I decided to take Jason along on a ride-along today. He'd been bugging me about getting out of the office, and I figured it was time he saw what the job was like. A call had come in about a fencing dispute between two landowners on the outskirts of town—figured it would be a good way to show him the more … diplomatic side of being sheriff.

As we drove, Jason kept his eyes glued to the window, taking in the sights with curiosity and excitement. It reminded me of when I was younger, riding along with my old man back when he was sheriff. It was strange to see the same eagerness in Jason that I once had, though I wasn't sure how long it would last once he saw the reality of it.

"So, Jason," I said. "How are the college applications going?"

He glanced at me. "Good. Slow, though," he admitted, his voice uncertain. "I want to work with computers. Maybe something in programming or IT. I've been looking at a few colleges with good tech programs. Don't tell Grandpa."

"Your grandpa just wants you to be happy."

"Yeah, but don't tell him. He gets confused."

I patted his arm. "You're a good kid, Jason."

By this time, we'd pulled up to the scene—a dusty patch of land where the properties of Bob Harlan and the infamous parking asshole Phil Thompson butted up against each other. The two men were already there, standing on opposite sides of the fence, red-faced and shouting over each other.

Bob Harlan was a grizzled old rancher with a thick mustache and a cowboy hat that had seen better days. He'd been working his land for over thirty years and was as stubborn as they came. On the other hand, Phil Thompson was a bit younger, maybe in his early fifties, with a clean-shaven face and a reputation for being a hothead, and for parking in handicapped spaces, pushing the limits. He'd moved to Whisper Ridge about a decade ago, and ever since then, the two had been at odds over just about everything.

"Sheriff!" Bob called out as I stepped out of the car. "You tell this man to keep his cattle on his side of the fence!"

"Sheriff, this fence line's been a problem for years, and Bob here keeps moving it further onto my property!" Phil shot back, his voice rising with each word.

I walked over, holding up a hand to calm them down. "All right, gentlemen, let's take a breath and talk this through."

Jason followed close behind, his eyes wide as he surveyed the scene. This was probably the most excitement he'd seen all week.

"Bob, Phil," I said, turning to each of them. "I know neither of you is looking for trouble. But we're not gonna solve anything by shouting."

Bob crossed his arms, grumbling, while Phil kicked at the dirt, still fuming. But they were listening.

"Let's look at the property line," I suggested, walking over to the fence. "We'll get a surveyor out here if necessary, but let's agree to keep things calm. No more moving fences and letting cattle wander where they shouldn't."

Bob sighed, tipping his hat back. "Fine. But this isn't over, Sheriff."

"It doesn't have to be over today," I replied, meeting his gaze. "But let's at least keep it civil."

Phil nodded with reluctance. "Yeah, all right. But if I find that fence moved again?—"

"You'll what?" I interrupted, and Phil blustered and then dropped his focus, his anger subsiding.

"Nothing, Sheriff."

"Good. We'll get this sorted."

With that, the tension in the air started to ease. The two men exchanged one last glare before retreating to their sides of the fence. I exhaled and turned to Jason, who was as shocked as if he'd just witnessed a magic trick.

"That was amazing," he said, his voice full of awe. "You just … calmed them down like it was nothing."

I chuckled, shaking my head. "It's not always that easy, trust me. But a lot of this job is just getting people to talk, to see reason. You'll figure it out. "

Jason was quiet for a moment, then he grinned. "You know, one day, I might want to be sheriff. Or a games designer. Or maybe a social media star. I haven't decided yet."

I couldn't help but laugh. "A social media star, huh? "

He shrugged, a bit unsure. "I'm still figuring it out."

"Well, you've got time," I said, clapping him on the shoulder as we walked back to the car. "But remember, whether being a sheriff, a games designer, or a social media star, it's about knowing what you stand for. That's what's important."

Oh god, did that sound preachy?

Jason nodded, his expression thoughtful as he climbed into the passenger seat. As we drove away, I couldn't help but feel a slight sense of pride. Maybe the kid had a lot to learn, but he had potential. And who knew? Maybe one day, he would follow in my footsteps. Or perhaps he'd be the next big thing on the internet. Either way, I had a feeling he'd make us all proud.

My good mood lasted to the office.

Right until I walked inside and saw my dad hunched in a chair, Solomon fussing around him, holding a towel to his face, and my mom crying by the small kitchen.

But worse than that? My worlds had collided because Connor was there as well, leaning against the wall with a bloodied nose.

The fuck?