Man of Honor (Passion in Paradise Book 4)

by Sarah O'Rourke

  “Don’t get cocky, Kitten. I’m in no mood. You know what this argument is really over just like I do. You shouldn’t BE here!”

  “This is EXACTLY where I need to be,” she growled back, matching his tone as the two combatants faced each other. “It’s MY business, Zeke. That back there,” she continued, waving a hand toward the back of the restaurant, “is MY kitchen where I do MY work. Seriously, if somebody said, ‘Don’t go be a Sheriff today, it’s too dangerous,’ you’d tell them that it’s your job and to check themselves into the nearest mental hospital. Why do you think I’d feel any less dedicated to my work?”

  “At the moment, nobody is gunnin’ for me,” Zeke snapped, rapidly losing his patience with the infuriating woman standing across from him.

  “I wouldn’t bet on THAT,” Honor returned purposefully, looking the lawman up and down.

  “Is that a threat you’re making to a sworn officer of the law, Miss McKinnon? Because it sure sounded like one.”

  Smiling that gentle sweet smile of hers that never failed to simultaneously melt his heart and harden his dick, Honor shook her head. “Of course not, Sheriff. Don’t be silly. A threat implies that I might not follow through on things. This is a promise from me to you, Zeke. So, listen up,” she announced, going from the sugar-wouldn’t-melt-in-her-mouth tone he adored to the I-will-rip-off-your-dick-and-shove-it-where-the-sun-don’t-shine voice that never failed to get his blood pumping.

  “I’m all ears, darlin’,” he replied easily, propping one hand against the counter as he leaned over it toward her. “I do love it when you make me promises.” Honor made a noise of disgust as she shot him a look that should have frozen his blood to ice, but somehow just managed to make him hotter for her.

  “Get out of my café, Sheriff, and take your Redneck Gestapo with you! And don’t forget Deputy Hightower who’s skulking back there in the corner tryin’ his best to be invisible,” she ordered, pointing at where his uncomfortable subordinate was trying to slump in a back booth. It was kinda hard to do when a guy was over six feet tall.

  “Or what?” Zeke dared her with an insolent grin.

  “Otherwise, I’m gonna be forced to bring out the pressure washer and start hosing down all the unwanted pests around this place, and I promise I’ll start with you, Sheriff Monroe.”

  He could tell by the set of her jaw that she was serious. His little Kitten had become a Tigress at some point this morning. And damn, if that didn’t turn him on, too.

  “Alright, Honor, since you’re determined to do this, we’re gonna negotiate our way to a solution,” Zeke offered reasonably.

  “The solution is for you to take your bossy butt out of my café and let me get on with my day, Zeke,” Honor retorted heatedly.

  “Well, that’s not happening until you and I put a few parameters on what’s gonna constitute your workday. Or, have you made your sisters and aunt aware of how you still haven’t been able to sleep more than a couple of hours without jerking awake from a nightmare? Or the fact that when you lift anything heavier than a bag of flour, your double up in pain? Or…”

  “You can shut up anytime now, Zeke,” Honor said through clenched teeth.

  “Wait a second,” Faith murmured, shifting her baby to hold against her chest and bouncing the little girl gently. “What’s he talkin’ about, Peanut?”

  “Yeah, you said you felt fine,” Harmony added reproachfully. “Right, Aunt Orla?”

  The old woman’s eyes narrowed on her youngest niece while she nodded at Harmony’s question. “Fine as frog hair, that’s what she said.”

  “Well, in fairness, that’s a relative term,” Honor mumbled as she lowered her head. “But I DO feel loads better, y’all. I just move a little slower than usual.”

  Exchanging a look with Zeke over Honor’s head, Harmony sighed. “Half days. No lifting. Five minute breaks every half hour. Those are our terms,” the eldest McKinnon sister proclaimed, elbowing Faith in the arm.

  “I agree,” Faith replied quickly. “You’ve got to take care of yourself before you can worry about takin’ care of the café, sis.”

  “Oh, come on. I might as well stay home if this is all y’all are gonna let me do,” Honor argued.

  “I’d be okay with that,” Zeke interjected, earning himself another venomous look from Honor.

  “Child, you need to learn that the world won’t crumble here at the restaurant if you need time off. You won’t be able to run anything if you work yourself into a coffin, will you? You’ve got me, your sisters, and a staff that YOU handpicked, Honor Grace. If I was you, I’d snatch up this deal while it’s on the table and be happy for it,” Aunt Orla lectured sternly.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Honor said, unhappily accepting her fate from her family before turning enraged eyes toward Zeke. “Well, now that you got what you wanted, you can leave,” she huffed before storming into the kitchen.

  Zeke looked from the swinging door Honor just burst through to her Aunt Orla. “Well, I’m in it, aren’t I?”

  “Up to your eyeballs, Lawman,” Aunt Orla agreed with a bland look at him.

  “I need to see her for a minute and let her know I’m leaving Deputy Hightower here to watch after her. If I don’t, she’s sure to give the poor guy a rough time. You mind if I slip back and have a chat?”

  Lifting the counter for him, Orla nodded her head, her wrinkled face smiling. “Have at it, son, but mind you, she’s got some real sharp butcher knives back there at her disposal. And she’s real handy with ‘em.”

  “Do I look new here, Miss Orla? I’m wearing my body armor,” Zeke returned with a wink and a nod at Honor’s two sisters before he followed his woman’s path through the swinging doors.

  He found her easily, standing at the center metal table, viciously shredding a head of lettuce. “Imagining that’s my face right now, aren’t you?”

  “You know me so well,” she muttered without looking up from her task.

  “Kitten,” he said as he ambled across the kitchen to stand just behind her, “put the lettuce down and look at me.”

  Tearing off the last green leaf and hurling it into the glass bowl in the center of the table, Honor threw down the remainder of the vegetable down and whirled to face him, her eyes hurt and shining. “You’ve got a big mouth, Ezekiel,” she hissed, slapping her hand against his arm. “Out there, broadcastin’ my personal business for all the world to hear. How could you?”

  “Your family needed to know that you aren’t quite as fine as you want them to believe, Honor. I’m not gonna apologize for lookin’ after you. So, if you’re waiting on an ‘I’m sorry’ because I wouldn’t support your lie to them, you’ll be here for a while.”

  Honor released a low squeal of frustration as she smacked his arm again. “I didn’t ask you to LIE to them, Zeke. I just don’t believe I should have to share every tiny detail of my life with everybody. And I surely don’t understand why you felt like you had to blab everything you knew to them. If you’re gonna live with me, I deserve to have some expectation of privacy, darn it. I mean, did I share with everyone that you seem to prefer goin’ commando to wearin’ underwear if the past month’s laundry is any indication? Or, that when you’re exhausted, your snores could rival a weed whacker’s engine. Tell me, did I inform the masses that you’ve got a birthmark shaped like Idaho on your left butt cheek? The answer to every question is: No, I did not!”

  Zeke’s jaw dropped. “You studied my bare ass long enough to map out the shape of my birthmark, Kitten? Gotta say, I’m appalled,” he gasped, pressing a theatrical hand to his heart.

  Honor rolled her expressive eyes at the ceiling. “Sure, you are. But for the record, that birthmark is hard to miss, Zeke. I hope you’ve had it checked out.”

  “Worried about me?” he asked gently, staring at her with gleaming eyes.

  “Only that you’ll die in my house and I’ll have to dispose of the body,” Honor countered smoothly, unwilling to give him anything to lord over her.

&n
bsp; “Have I mentioned how much I love your fire, Kitten?” Zeke asked, leaning toward her and crowding her against the table.

  “Ezekiel, that better be your gun poking my side right now. Otherwise, you and I are gonna have bigger problems than we already do,” Honor threatened, breathing heavier as his lips ghosted hers.

  “Oh, my problem’s plenty big enough already, Pretty Girl,” Zeke muttered, dropping a kiss against her cheek.

  “What did you come back here to harass me for anyway?” she asked after a few sexually charged seconds. “If I only get to work for a half day, I’ve got a lot to get through. I don’t have time to stand here with you,” she grumbled, turning back to her prep table and reaching for a carrot.

  Dropping his hands to her hips, he felt her stiffen, but he didn’t back down. Over the last month, he’d slowly been working to get her accustomed to his touch. Now, while she might initially tense when he put his hands on her, she didn’t startle. When she felt his hands against her now, she might momentarily react to his proximity, she’d quickly settle and relax. Much like she was doing now as she softened against his chest and continued to dice the carrots. “I’m waiting,” she reminded him as she efficiently sliced her knife through the crisp vegetable.

  “Honestly, I wanted to beg you not to overdo it on your first day back, Honor. Contrary to what you may think, you are a long way from being a hundred percent and you’re exhausted on top of that, baby.”

  “I’m fine,” she insisted irritably, snatching another carrot from the bunch and breaking off the stem.

  “Keep holdin’ that party line,” Zeke advised wryly. “Doesn’t mean I’ll believe it. But if you insist on doin’ this, I’m leaving Deputy Hightower here to watch over you. Don’t give my man a hard time, Kitten, and DO NOT attempt to give him the slip again. You and Orla got lucky this morning. Next time, I’ll lock you both up where neither one of you can cause any trouble.”

  “In my defense, I had no idea Auntie was gonna try and break the sound barrier in her car this morning.”

  “Hmmm… I don’t think that would have helped me any if I’d had to scrape you two off the road if you’d wrecked, Honor.”

  Honor winced as her mind pictured what Zeke described and she flashed him a shamefaced look over her shoulder. “I’m sorry. For that part,” she amended quickly. “I’ll have a word with Auntie about her speed.”

  “Good. Make sure she also knows that the next high speed chase she leads any of my men on will be her last. I’ll jerk that license away from her myself.”

  “I’ve got it, Zeke,” she replied with a heavy sigh. “Now, please go do your work and let me continue with mine. I’ll be a good girl and treat your trained monkey to all the pie and coffee he can handle.”

  “So, we’re good?” Zeke asked suspiciously. “You’re not gonna wait until my back’s turned and plant that knife in it or take off on Deputy Hightower as soon as I clear the building, right? This little war of ours is over?”

  “That depends. Are you going to cease with your Hillbilly interpretation of Genghis Khan and trust me to make some of my own decisions?”

  “I’m gonna try,” Zeke granted magnanimously.

  “The laundry?” she clipped.

  “I’ll make sure I do my fair share of the laundry and the other housework,” he offered good-naturedly.

  “Except the kitchen,” she added swiftly. “The kitchen is my domain. You can have the bathrooms.”

  “Generous,” Zeke returned, trying not to smile too widely.

  “Are you going to stop tampering with my TiVo programming?” she questioned tartly.

  “All those soapy programs will be safe, henceforth, Kitten,” Zeke agreed with a somber nod.

  “You don’t like my zombies, but you’ll watch that horrible Sports Center like it’s Moses speaking from the mount? Tell me, Sheriff Monroe, would you give that up to live with me?” she queried hopefully.

  Zeke shrank back from her in feigned hurt. “Seriously? You would ask a man to give up his daily dose of sports news? Why don’t you just ask for one of my balls? That’d be easier to part with.”

  Honor snorted. “I had to try,” she stated flippantly. “Alright, Ezekiel. I suppose we’ve staved off World War III for another month,” she conceded.

  ~~***~~

  Sadly, the cease fire didn’t last a whole month, but even more surprisingly, it was neither Zeke nor Honor that fired the shot that brought forth the craziness that descended over the town of Paradise next.

  Chapter Six

  February 14, 2016

  From the day of their showdown at the I Don’t Care Café and for most of the next month, Zeke and Honor had a good run, making it to Valentine’s Day 2016 without any kind of mass mayhem or murder between them. Sure, there had been the occasional skirmish to navigate, but that was to be expected when two people with different personalities began to share a household. Zeke had to learn that the laundry hamper wasn’t a suggestion and Honor was forced to admit she might have slight OCD tendencies where it came to cleaning, but mostly it had been a peaceful few weeks between them. Overall, in a lot of ways, they’d grown closer. Zeke had learned to appreciate Honor’s love of all things zombie-related and Honor endeavored to tolerate Sports Center. They shared meals and chores, and tried to make the best out of their situation.

  If there was a fly in the ointment the last few weeks, it was the fact that those damned anonymous messages to Honor hadn’t stopped appearing. Every few days, Zeke found one. Sometimes they were in the mailbox. Other times, he’d found notes stuck beneath the windshield wipers on the passenger side of his SUV where Honor sat when she was with him. She’d even started getting them at the café, but thankfully, Aunt Orla and Diego Fuentes, who lived above the cafe, were willing co-conspirators in keeping those damned ominous ‘We’re watching you,’ notes away from his girl. She was already having enough trouble sleeping at night. And those damn headaches she’d been getting were beginning to put quite a strain on her. There were times -like when she woke shrieking in the black of night - that he wondered if some of those fucking threats hadn’t slipped through the cracks and landed in her hands, but he couldn’t imagine a universe where she would keep that kind of information to herself if it had happened. She knew how important her safety was to him and her family.

  No, he feared that the escalation in her nightmares and the severity of her headaches were directly related to the fact that he was still no closer to finding either Angela Hastings’ murderer, the bastard who’d caused Honor and Patience’s car accident, OR the two remaining pricks that had raped his woman. It was a bitter pill for them both to swallow, but it seemed every trail had gone cold. The only thing he had were those stupid typed notes that she kept getting, and forensics couldn’t tell him anything besides the font and type of paper they were printed on. Not a single one she’d received had a touch of a fingerprint on it. If Zeke didn’t know better, he’d swear they were written by a ghost.

  Since Christmas, however, his attention had been demanded in other areas of Paradise. Chiefly by the town’s two newest residents, Cal Valentine and Melody Reardon. Truthfully, Zeke liked Paradise’s new additions.

  Melody was opening a new storefront on the town square called Hooks & Books, and Cal was just retired from the military and initially in Paradise to keep an eye on Melody at behest of Cal’s former soldier (and incidentally Melody’s brother). It seemed that Melody was just coming out of a bad break-up and her former fiancé wasn’t exactly inclined to let her go. Zeke had been forced to get involved in the situation more than once since Melody had moved to town, and he could honestly say that like Cal, he thought the ex-fiancé was an egomaniacal, potentially dangerous prick.

  Actually, he and Cal had a lot in common and had bonded over beer and pretzels during more than one night at the I Don’t Care Café’s bar, and he was glad that Cal’s plans now included opening a gym in Paradise with Melody’s brother and calling their town home for the foreseeable
future. From their mutual intense dislike of local realtor, Henry Watson, to their love of country music, he and Cal got along great and he now counted the other man as a friend. It also helped that Honor and all the McKinnon girls were friends of Melody and Melody’s late grandmother.

  Hell, it had actually been Cal (and Cal’s relentless pursuit of Melody) that gave him the idea to quit giving Honor an option where their relationship and her safety were concerned and simply move in with her. It’s what Cal had done in order to protect Melody from her ex despite the woman’s protests, and it had actually worked out pretty well for them both. Especially since he had it on good authority that Melody would very definitely be wearing a diamond engagement ring before Valentine’s Day was done.

  Now, he knew his Honor was nowhere near ready to receive his ring, but Zeke wouldn’t deny that it gave him hope for their combined future. If he could just convince Honor to seek some help for the invisible phantoms terrorizing her sleep instead of burying the pain, he knew he’d reach his goal of having her as his wife a hell of a lot sooner. Sadly, he had barely been able to convince her to see her doctor brother-in-law, Cain, about her headaches. She’d finally reluctantly conceded to what had become his almost constant harping and gotten a prescription for her migraines. Cain had warned her that sometimes a patient had to try a variety of medications before the right one was found, but Zeke couldn’t help praying that they’d nailed it on the first try. Otherwise, he knew he’d play hell getting her back into an exam room.

  Shaking his head, he reminded himself that this was going to be a good day. Valentine’s Day. He was going to join Honor over at Melody’s store for the grand opening of Hooks & Books, relieve Deputy Hightower from watchdog duty, and then he was going to steal her away for a Valentine’s Day lunch at a steakhouse a few towns over from Paradise. He’d decided to go with lunch because he knew Honor would consider dinner out together to be too intimate, too much like a date. Lunch, however, he felt confident he could convince her to accept.