by L. A. Fiore
Realizing how the Belles had reacted to the lawn boys and looking at the man before her, yeah, she understood why he’d called them away. “Yeah. Let me open it for you.”
“No.” Hank threw a hand up. “I got it, you bring the chicken inside. I’ll be right in.”
Arissa didn’t leave right away, waited to see as Hank lifted the garage door, enjoying the play on his muscles. Then she smiled, bit her lip and headed inside. She was just getting the plates out when she heard the sound of Hank’s heavy foot falls. She called to him, “Do they do that often?”
Hank appeared in the doorway; leaning against the jamb, he studied Arissa. They’d only been around each other a handful of times but he couldn’t get her out of his head. Dressed in cutoffs and a tee, she moved around the kitchen with ease. The same ease he felt being around her. She was different from most of the women he’d been with. Not having to answer the fifteen million questions they’d ask or the doe-eyed stares from the younger women. Watching as she grabbed for the dishes high on a shelf, her shirt rode up on the side, showing her soft skin. A soft lusted grumble escaped his chest.
She glanced over, and saw him staring. For a man who had his attention pulled countless times throughout the day, she loved that he gave her his undivided focus when they were together. She also liked the look in his eyes. Her voice was a little rough when she asked, “Did you say something?”
Hank shook the haze from his head, righted himself and said, “No.” He looked blankly at her and asked, “Did you ask a question?” Jesus. Hank needed to get a fucking grip. If this were a case, he’d be fucked.
Arissa smiled. Walked to the fridge, grabbed two beers. She crossed the room to him, handed him one and said, “I asked if the Belles do that often.” Twisting the cap off she said, “Pretty remarkable that you keep level headed in a town of crazy people.” She took a drink before she said, “Because, Sheriff, your town is crazy.”
Level headed? He wanted to bust out laughing because around her his head was anything but leveled. He took a pull from his beer before he answered, “They do and…” Hank moved into her space, bent his head so his lips were an inch from hers and whispered, “It is.”
She liked him in her personal space, fucking loved it. Her body was heating up, her blood rushing through her veins. It was a challenge being around him because she wanted to know everything there was to know about him, as much as she just plain wanted him. Instead of closing the distance to feel his lips on hers, something that was growing increasingly more difficult to resist, she instead asked, “Where else besides Summerville have you lived?”
“Haven’t,” Hank answered, stepping away from Arissa and taking a seat at the table. “Lived here my whole life.”
“Really? No sowing your wild oats, seeing the country?”
Hank smiled at the slight incredulity in her question. “After high school I worked with my dad doing handyman shit. Was gonna join the Marines, but my mother had a health scare, so I decided to stay close. Went to the police academy over in Huntsville. Worked under Sheriff Drungs until he retired and then I took over,” he told her, took a pull from his beer and added, “You see how crazy this place is, hard to take any time for yourself.” He chuckled, but it seemed forced. He hated these fucking questions, but knew they were coming. Sometimes it was even hard for him to swallow the fact that he was a thirty-six-year-old male that hadn’t done any real traveling. Just his one-night rendezvous in Charleston, and a brief visit once to Nashville when he was younger. Despite not having traveled or had experiences many others his age had had, he was okay with where his life was.
Arissa joined him at the table. Noticed the slight tension in his shoulders. His life always being here explained why he was so good at being the sheriff because this town was his home, like down to the bones. “So this town really is in your blood.” She took a sip from her beer. “I think if I grew up here, I’d be hard-pressed to leave it too.”
“Don’t think I haven’t thought about just taking the fuck off, but…” He shrugged. “This town isn’t just my blood, it’s my family.”
“That I knew,” she said. “My first day, the banter between you and the townsfolk…it is a family. It’s enviable.” She looked off in the distance and added almost absently, “It’s what I’ve been chasing my whole life.”
He nodded, and just watched her. The way her mouth moved. How when you spoke to her, she really listened. So lost in thought, he hadn’t even known the next words he spoke he whispered out loud. “God, you’re fucking gorgeous.”
Her focus jerked to him and her cheeks warmed as a smile spread over her face. “So are you,” she whispered back.
Hank slowly grinned then rose, grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet. He glanced down at her lips before he pressed his to hers. Hers opened on a groan giving him access to slide his tongue inside. They took their time every time they kissed. Tongues mingling in a dance, one that felt like they’d been doing it for a lifetime. Her arm came up to wrap around his neck, and his snaked around her waist, pulling her into him. Not thinking it possible, Hank deepened the kiss. Soft and slow turned into heat and power. Arissa moaned as she pressed her body into him. Hank groaned accepting her invitation. Just as Hank was about to take it to the next level, his cell vibrated in his pocket. He let out a rumble before ending the kiss.
“Sorry,” he apologized, backing up from her as he reached for his cell. He looked at the screen and said, “Gotta take this.” Then he tapped the screen and put the phone to his ear. “Yo.”
But yo didn’t come off as casual as Hank wanted when Jo asked, “You working out?”
Arissa dropped down into her chair again. She’d never experienced weak knees until Hank Weathers, but he really did make her knees weak.
Hank was shaking his head when he answered, “No.”
“Sure sound out of breath is all I’m saying and…” Jo paused. “Oh my God, did I catch you—”
“For fucks sake, no, you didn’t catch me jerking off.” He glanced at Arissa who was hiding her grin behind the pull she took from her beer and questioned, “What do you need?”
“Well,” she drawled. “Hya got a little too excited at the park, started dancing, waving her cane around, hollering—”
Hank cut Jo off. “Get to the fucking point, please.”
Jo spit out, “Cane went flying, hit Nicky Jones in the head before Greg almost ran it over, which means he had to swerve and I’m guessing since the ambulance is out there, you can’t swerve on a mower cause—”
Hank took a deep breath and looked at Arissa, their eyes connecting. In his next words was also an apology to her. “I’ll be there in ten.” Then he ended the call.
Disappointment hit, but Arissa stood. Held his stare.
Moving to her, he got in her space again, looked down and said, “Rain check?”
She didn’t even take a breath when she answered back, “Absolutely, Sheriff.”
5
Arissa walked through the garden center. She had plans for her backyard, particularly after seeing Hank’s place, but focus was a challenge for her these days because her thoughts wanted to linger on Hank Weathers. Being around him, she was either smiling, laughing or teetering on the edge of arousal from nothing more than his dark gaze. And as crazy as he made her feel, it was easy being with him, natural. But that was Hank…driving Vern home, rescuing victims from lawn mishaps, giving as much as he did to his town, and doing so with that easy charm of his. He really was something else. And as happy as she was spending time with the sheriff of Summerville, she couldn’t help but wonder about the man who’d crashed their date that night at Hank’s. But if she was being honest, she was even more curious about Phoebe because she suspected Phoebe had been his, once upon a time.
“Hello.”
Arissa turned at the greeting to see an older woman approaching her, dressed in pale blu
e cotton pants and white eyelet blouse. She was pushing a cart with a tray of peach begonias as she made a beeline to Arissa.
“Hello,” Arissa replied.
“You must be the young lady that bought the Meyer’s place.”
Arissa bit back the smile but she had a feeling even after a decade in Summerville, to the locals she would always be the woman who bought the Meyer’s place. “I am. Arissa Haywood,” she offered and held out her hand.
The older woman took it. “I’m Catherine Weathers, Hank’s mom.”
Surprise hit Arissa first because she’d just been thinking about Hank, but nerves followed because this was his mom and she liked Hank, a hell of a lot. She took a moment to study the woman responsible for raising a man like Hank because she’d done a hell of a job. And when she greeted her, she was sincere when she said, “It’s so nice to meet you.”
“And you,” Catherine said. “I understand you’ve met my son. A mishap at your house.”
Who would have thought a broken valve would bring the likes of Hank Weathers into her life. She’d intended to ream out her inspector and realtor, now she was thinking she needed to send them gift baskets and thank you notes. “Yes, Billie was playing darts, so the sheriff came to the rescue.”
Catherine smiled. “That’s my Hank. He loves this town, the people in it. He takes it very seriously. Sometimes too seriously.” She moved closer and dropped her voice. “Forgets that there is more to life than work.”
Being a recovering workaholic herself, Arissa understood how easy it was to get lost in work, but at least with Hank his work centered on helping people. To Arissa’s way of thinking, that wasn’t a terrible thing.
Catherine sized up Arissa. It was really the only way to describe the once over she gave her before Catherine said, “I have hopes, though, that he’ll be settling down soon.”
Had Arissa been holding something, she’d have dropped it. Tingles swept through her. Was it possible Catherine had already heard about Hank and her? Of course she had, this was Summerville. Besides, she was pretty sure her neighbor, Maureen, had a telescope directed at Arissa’s house to monitor all the comings and goings. And though Hank and she were just at the beginning, Arissa really liked hearing that Catherine approved.
Before she could reply, Catherine added, “Phoebe is such an amazing young woman.”
The tingles died, and her heart dropped. Phoebe…again? Arissa’s mouth felt like sandpaper when she asked, “Who’s Phoebe?”
Catherine touched her lips. “Oh dear, I’m sorry. He hasn’t mentioned her?” She said in almost a question. “Look at me running off my mouth.” She touched Arissa’s arm in comfort. “He’s a very private person.” Then as if she wanted to move the conversation off Hank and her slip about Phoebe she asked, “Do you have a beau?”
Arissa didn’t answer and instead asked, “Who is Phoebe?”
Catherine looked pained, as if she knew the impact her next words were going to have on Arissa when she said, “The love of his life.”
Those five words were like taking a hit from a careening ball. She and Hank were just getting to know each other, but she thought the interest went both ways, not just interest but something deeper. Had she been wrong about that?
“I’ve upset you,” Catherine said. “I’m sorry. I’ve just…” She paused, looked sympathetic before she added, “I’ve seen it so many times before. Hank goes through the motions, dates, even flirts and women think he’s falling for them, but I know my son. No one will ever be Phoebe. They met at the wrong time, but you know when two people belong together. They’ll find their way.”
Arissa looked away and tried to pull air into her lungs. How had she misread the situation so badly? And damn, but it hurt learning she had.
There was kindness and sympathy in Catherine’s expression when she said sincerely, “I’m sorry.” She touched Arissa’s arm. “It really was nice meeting you.”
“And you,” Arissa said even though the words were a lie. Her thoughts turned to Hank, the chemistry between them, the banter, the start of something that promised to be extraordinary but hearing he already had that with someone else, someone he still wanted, yeah, it fucking hurt. She walked out of the garden center without doing what she’d come for. She wasn’t in the mood to start putting down roots today. Maybe tomorrow.
Distracted with her thoughts, Arissa wasn’t paying attention as she walked to her car so when she walked into someone, it startled her. Sorry was on her lips until she saw it was the older woman from the other day, the one who nearly ran her off the road that first day.
“Might want to keep your head up when you’re walking,” she said, her voice gruff, but there was a teasing note to it. Before Arissa could reply, an arm went around her shoulders. Her head jerked to the owner. It was her neighbor.
“Hey, Sugar. How you doing?” Maureen asked, her eyes moving around the parking lot, her expression one of disappointment, like she was looking for someone. “How are you adjusting to our town?”
“We should go out for drinks?” the redhead offered.
Arissa felt like she’d been dropped into the middle of an ongoing conversation. Her mouth opened, but nothing came out.
Maureen stepped back and with a flourish of her hands offered, “My friends, the Belles.”
“You must be Arissa. Maureen mentioned you,” the redhead said. “I’m Millie,” she offered and extended her hand. “Welcome to Summerville.”
Arissa took her hand. “Thank you. Nice to meet you.”
“How’s the burst pipe?” Maureen asked. “I saw Billie finally made an appearance, so I’m guessing all’s good.”
“It is, thanks.”
“Not the best move-in day story, huh? But you got to meet the sheriff, kind of hit it off too, from what I’ve seen,” Maureen said slyly before adding, “Now that is a good move-in day story.”
Her blue eyes lingered on Arissa when the older woman chimed in, “You need to learn how to drive.”
Arissa’s head jerked to the older woman, her eyes hitting stormy gray ones. It wasn’t Arissa who needed a refresher course on driving. Her mouth opened before she could stop it. “You were on my side of the street.”
The woman’s eyes narrowed, as she lifted her cane and pointed it at Arissa, who almost took a step back but held her ground. “Are you suggesting it was my fault?”
Arissa looked at the cane before lifting her eyes to the woman. “I’m not suggesting.”
Silence followed for a beat before it was broken by what sounded like a bark. At first Arissa thought the older woman was having a seizure because her body was shaking and she was making the oddest noise until Arissa saw the twinkle in her eyes. It was rusty, possibly from lack of use, but the woman was laughing.
“I like her,” the older woman said to no one in particular before she announced, “Hyacinth Delacroix.”
Arissa reached for the hand she offered. “Arissa Haywood.”
Hyacinth didn’t release Arissa’s hand but held it tighter when she asked, “You knit?”
Arissa wasn’t sure if she should be offended. She was only thirty-three. Sure she didn’t get out much but that was out of preference. “No, I don’t.”
“Knitting circle, my house on Tuesday night.”
The scene popped into Arissa’s head, women sitting in a circle, sipping tea, working on their blankets or booties, but then looking at Hyacinth, Maureen and Millie, she couldn’t imagine any of them in that scenario. “But I don’t knit.”
Hyacinth’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “Neither do we.”
Intrigued, and slightly wary, Arissa said, “I’ll be there.”
“Good.” Hyacinth then asked, “What do you do besides running the elderly off the road?”
Arissa answered without thought because this was the strangest conversation she’d ever had. “I’m the ed
itor of Southern Charm.”
A hand dropped on her arm, Arissa followed it to Millie who was looking at her like she just announced that she’d had a threesome with Chris Hemsworth and Jason Momoa. “Are you serious?”
“No, she’s lying,” Hyacinth said, then cackled.
“Are you really?” Maureen asked. “The Southern Charm?”
Arissa couldn’t lie, it felt nice. She loved her work, gave everything to her magazine, so being on the receiving end of a little awe, yeah, it felt good. “Yes, I’ve been the editor for six years.”
“Oh my God, you started the Christmas Charm feature,” Millie said, almost jumping up and down. “I made the centerpieces you featured the one year with the greens and citrus fruits. My family was raving about it, but it really was so easy.”
Arissa didn’t hide her smile. That was her goal for Southern Charm, designer looks that anyone could do. “I can’t tell you how great that is to hear.”
“I love your magazine. I have every issue. I don’t throw them away. Have them filed in my craft room for reference.”
A car honked. It was only then Arissa remembered they were in the middle of a parking lot. Hyacinth turned to the car and though the man had been rolling down his window to say something, he immediately rolled it back up again. Arissa chuckled.
“Meet us at Moe’s tomorrow night,” Maureen said.
Arissa wasn’t feeling very social, not after learning what she had about Hank. How had she been so wrong about what was happening between them? She wanted to go home, pull the blinds, turn on some sappy movies and eat ice cream. So she lied, “I’m still unpacking.”
“Bullshit,” Hyacinth said. “Come to Moe’s.” She leaned closer to Arissa and added, “How else are we going to learn what’s going on with you and our sexy sheriff?”
Those weren’t the words to get Arissa motivated, not after her run-in with Hank’s mom, but she knew she wasn’t getting away from them if she didn’t give them something so she lied…again. “Let me see how today goes. If I can make it tomorrow, I’ll stop by your place, Maureen.”
