“Huh.” I plant my hands on my hips. “Maybe my theory about hot dudes was true?”
Tomas is a looker. Like… mmm. That kind of looker.
And even though the beast is a monster and he has horns, and hooves, and fur… he’s got a nice face. And that scruff of blond beard? Mm-hm.
I shake my head and snap out of it. Because the tow truck driver is lifting my Jeep up now. Like he’s about to pull away.
I turn, run back to the sanctuary, fling the door open, and screech to a halt. Because the monster is standing right there, palm out, ring in the center of it. “Forget something?” He smirks at me.
I snatch up the ring. “Fuck you.” He might have a nice face, but he’s the reason I’m stuck here. And he’s a dick.
“You’re gonna have to put it on, sweetheart.”
I sigh up at Tomas. “Give me a minute.”
“You don’t have a minute,” the beast says. “Your car is about to pull away.”
“What?” I look out the window, and sure enough, the driver is getting into his truck. I spin around, go back out, run down the walkway, and slip the fucking ring on my finger just before I call out, “Hey! Stop! That’s my Jeep!” A repeat of what just happened two minutes ago, but with real fear in my voice this time.
The tow truck driver just pulls away. Either he didn’t hear me, or didn’t care.
But the sheriff has definitely noticed. He turns in my direction, flashes me a brilliant smile, lifts his sunglasses up to his forehead to reveal the greenest eyes I’ve ever seen, and he says, “Well, well, well. Would you get a look at this.”
I stop at the gate and frown at him. “Get a look at what?” And that’s when I realize… I’m still wearing my slutty schoolgirl outfit from Halloween night.
The sheriff actually leers at me, looking me up and down but good. And I’m still trying to decide if I’m offended or not when he adds, “You, little darling, are a vision in plaid.”
I want to be offended. I really do. But wow. He’s so hot. Like… supernaturally hot. He’s tall. And lean, but not skinny. I can see the definition of his biceps through his khaki-colored button-down shirt. And those already-mentioned eyes. Not to mention his accent. It’s just the right amount of rural Pennsylvania hick.
I smile at him, even though his comment was pretty sexist. I don’t care. Besides, I have to sweet-talk this guy. He just had my Jeep towed and I need it back. Without paying for it. “Hi,” I say. “I’m… Pie—”
“Pie?” He chuckles. “You’re Pie? That’s…” He licks his lips. “Adorable.”
“Well. Thank you. Um. And. Yeah. What I’m here to say is—” Holy hell, Pie. Get a hold of yourself. You’re acting like a schoolgirl. This almost makes me snort. “Anyway. I’m sorry to bother you, but that was my Jeep.” I point down the road where it disappeared. “Do you think you could call the driver and have him bring it back?”
I do a flirty thing here. I bat my eyelashes at him and kinda swivel a little as I wrap a long strand of blonde hair around my finger and pucker my lips. I don’t even know where this is all coming from, because I cannot recall a single time in my twenty-five years where I’ve ever been such a shameless flirt, but it makes the hot cop smile. So whatever.
“Well,” hot cop says, “Pie.” He licks his lips again. Like I might be delicious. Then his smile falters. “I’m sorry. But once the car is hooked up, the driver has to take it in. It’s… procedure.”
“Procedure.” I keep smiling. I’m not giving up that easy. “But… procedures… they’re subjective sometimes.”
“No.” And, unfortunately, hot cop seems pretty set in his ways about this no. “Rules are rules, Pie.”
I look over my shoulder, picturing Tomas and the beast having a good laugh over this.
“But I’ll tell you what,” hot cop says. “I’ll drive you into town and help you get it out of impound. How about that?”
“You will?”
“I will. I like to be helpful. Protect and serve and all that junk.”
“All that junk.” I giggle these words out and then… my eyes slide down to look at his junk. When I look up at him again, he’s grinning wildly.
“I’m Sheriff Roth, Pie. Sheriff Russell Roth. But you can just call me Russ. Everyone does.”
“Russ Roth,” I whisper under my breath. “Sounds like a quarterback name. Did you play football in high school, Sheriff Russ Roth?”
“How did you know?” He winks at me as he walks over to the little gate, pulls it open, and says, “Come on, Pie. Let’s get you to school.”
And like an idiot, I laugh at this dumb joke that is both sexist and offensive.