by Unknown
“I know,” she explained. “But the lady at town hall said it usually takes her a few weeks to process these kinds of requests and I don’t have a few weeks. So I’m asking you.” She swallowed—hard. “As a favor.”
“Last time you asked me for a favor, I ended up with a cat.”
She patted his arm. “And see how well that turned out.”
Jonah felt his gut tighten because he knew this favor was going to bite him in the ass—and he was going to say yes anyway. There was something about Shay that had him making bad decisions, and his gut was telling him that nothing about this favor was going to be easy—or smart.
His heart, though, was reminding him that Shay didn’t ask for favors—ever.
She gave a long-suffering and somewhat nervous sigh and he picked up the form. “To be clear, my taking the paper does not mean I am agreeing to the favor.”
“Oh, you’ll agree,” she said, her excitement bubbling from her every pore. “I am throwing a charity walk.”
“A walk, huh?” He scanned the permit.
“More of a prance. I’m calling it the first annual Prance for Paws Charity Pet Walk. I hope to raise enough money to get my shelter up and running before the deadline.”
“Is that how you got these?” He set the paper down and picked up her hands, tracing the scratches marring her palms and forearms with his thumb. He felt her shiver.
“Demo was two grand, so to save some money, me and my crew—”
He smiled. “You have a crew?”
“Why do you look so surprised?”
“I’m not.”
“Well we”—she put fancy air quotes around the last word—“demoed the entire first floor of the shop over the weekend. By ourselves.”
“Impressive.” And sexy as hell. Oh, he knew Shay was a hard worker, that she would build the shop from the ground up with toothpicks if she had to, but the image of her wearing a tool belt and swinging a sledgehammer turned him on.
“I know, right?” She bounced a little on her toes and it took everything he had to keep his gaze on her face. “And since I learned my lesson last time, I am here to get the appropriate paperwork completed. Apparently I have to get someone here to sign off on it before the city will consider granting me the permit.”
She was quiet, waiting for him to read. He picked it up again, loving how her eyes followed his every move, proving that she was as impatient as a kid on Christmas morning.
When she was one flip of the permit from reading the thing to him herself, he gave it his full attention. The first part of the permit was doable, but when he got to her desired location he knew it was a no-go. “You want to close down Main Street?”
“Where else would I have a walk-a-thon?” He could think of a lot of other places that didn’t include closing down the main thoroughfare in town. “It’s the same few blocks as the farmers’ market.”
“Closing a street off requires traffic and crowd control. The farmers’ market has to request enough officers to handle that kind of event.”
“Okay,” Shay said, undeterred. “Is there a request form I can fill out then?”
He wished it were that simple. “Yes, but the officers have to be off duty and they have to be paid the union minimum.” Jonah quoted her what that was and he could tell by her expression that the woman at the permit department had done a piss-poor job of explaining to Shay what she was up against. “And the county doesn’t have the funds to pay for this kind of event. It has to be covered by the event host.”
“So I’d have to come up with the money?”
“Yes,” he said and could tell Shay didn’t have an extra fifteen hundred dollars in her budget. “But even then, I don’t think I could find enough guys on this short notice willing to work it. With Bark in the Park the weekend after, and the department cutbacks leaving us short staffed, my men are overworked. Which means I can’t sign this form.”
“I can’t make St. Paws work without it, Jonah. I need this permit.”
“And I want to give it to you.” He really did. Shay had done everything right this time, followed the rules, put her heart into turning a bad situation into something amazing, and she was still getting turned away. That pissed him off. But his hands were tied. “I can’t force guys to work off hours, though.”
“I get that,” she said, accepting the big turd he’d just handed her with a graceful resignation that could only come from a lifetime of nos and letdowns.
Jonah didn’t want to be one more letdown in her life. He wanted to be that guy who showed her just how easy she was to say yes to. He picked up the permit and folded it, tucking it in his shirt pocket. “I can’t sign this until I have a verbal commitment from the guys, but let me see what I can do.”
“I appreciate it,” she said, and then with a smile that was shy and uncertain and unlike any smile she’d ever sent his way, she leaned in. “As for that secret I owe you, I’ve never had a lemon-iced fig cake, but it sounds like something I would love to try.”
With a look that said she was talking about more than icing a cake, she grabbed her purse and headed out the door, her hips swishing like she knew he was watching. And he was. He watched as the cute curve of her ass walked out of the station. He groaned with every step she took because the bottom of that dress teased at her thighs, just like he knew it would, showing off those amazing legs of hers.
When her car pulled out of the lot, he fished out his phone and dialed Adam. “’Sup.”
“What’s the password for that Facebook account you set up for me?”
“BarneyFife82,” he said. “Why?”
“I need to make somebody my friend.” Isn’t that what he’d told Clovis to do?
“Jesus, it’s called friending someone.”
He didn’t care what it was called. He was going to do it.
With extra icing.
Two days later, Shay looked out the window of Paws and Claws at the excited mass of women waiting to come in and wondered if she should call the cops.
They weren’t women—they were more like ladies. Senior ladies. Some of them so old they predated Christ. And they all wanted a piece of this week’s Cutie with Booty.
“I still think we should call for backup,” Shay said, now understanding why Jonah had placed so much emphasis on crowd control. One wrong move, like say, forgetting to pack all the limited-edition Warren trading cards she’d advertised, and she’d have a riot on her hands.
“I’m all the backup you need,” Warren said smoothly, and Shay rolled her eyes.
Sure, the deputy was doing her a favor. And sure, he was so good looking he was hard not to stare at, but Shay knew his type. Had dated his type. In fact, her life was full of his type. Witty, charming, always around, ready to lend a hand—until she really needed one.
“I don’t think you stand a chance,” she said and Warren laughed, sure to flash his perfectly white teeth her way.
“This isn’t Kevlar under here,” he said, puffing out his chest and running his palms over his pecs to prove it. “This is hard work. Want to feel?”
Shay did not want to feel, she wanted to call Jonah. There were so many large handbags and walkers that could easily be concealing weapons—or be used as weapons—she knew that this event was one line-cutter away from getting out of hand.
“Maybe they would understand if you explained the situation,” Peggy said, coming up beside her, and Shay shot her a yeah right look. “Then how about I stall? I’ll say we are getting the dogs ready for their big day. Every woman knows that sometimes primping can take longer than expected.”
Woof, Jabba said, pressing his already groomed face to the window and panting excitedly at the growing crowd. He was joined by two of her other fosters: Socks, a cupcake-sized Maltipoo dressed in pink bows and a tutu, and Boss, a five-year-old basset hound who was looking good and showing his best side to the waiting ladies.
“Well, that option is out,” Shay said, giving her mutts a pat on the head. “I can al
ways run home and grab the cards.”
“I’ve got my booty buttons,” Warren offered, sitting back in his chair as though he didn’t have a care in the world. As though there wasn’t a crowd of demanding, impatient—and sometimes mean—old ladies all lined up to get their signed Deputy Booty trading cards.
Peggy looked out the window, then back to Warren and Shay and admitted, “Or maybe I should just call Jonah.”
But it was his day off. Shay knew this because she’d watched him mowing the lawn this morning from her kitchen window—while enjoying a cup of coffee.
Okay, she’d been spying. But the man was in flip-flops, cargo shorts, and no shirt, looking relaxed and ready. For whatever came his way.
If she were being honest, though, the real reason she’d hesitated was that she didn’t want to explain why Warren was there. This signing had been scheduled for weeks, and flyers had been displayed all over town since the calendar release, but a lot had changed in that time.
Namely, they’d kissed.
Three times.
Having Warren here with his BE THE BOOTY, VOTE WARREN FOR SHERIFF buttons, giving him the added publicity right before the election, felt like she was endorsing the wrong candidate. Even worse, she felt like she was betraying Jonah’s friendship.
“Well, would you look at that?” Peggy said, her eyes big with awe. “They’re lining up so orderly it’s like they’re at boot camp. And they’re doing it without a riot squad or the fire hose.”
That was because while most officers of the law carried their backup in their holster, Jonah carried his in the easy gait and stride he possessed. He didn’t need to show he was packing, didn’t even have on his uniform. The sheer amount of testosterone and badassery rolling off of him as he walked down Main Street in his shorts and ball cap was enough to send even the most dangerous criminals cowering.
That he did it with a smile was even hotter.
Jonah strode to the door of the spa and reached for the handle. It was locked.
He raised an amused brow at Shay. “You going to let me in?”
“Are they going to storm the shop?” she asked.
His confident look said everything she needed to know. She unlocked the door, and the sound sent Socks darting across the room and under the designer food bowl display.
With a grin that had her heart cheering and her lady parts sighing, Jonah stepped inside and handed her a box. Not just any box, but the box. The one from the printer that she’d been too distracted by his morning strut around the yard half-naked to remember.
“The Deputy Booty trading cards,” she said, pressing it to her chest. “How did you even know I forgot them?”
“Peggy called and said there was about to be a problem.”
“After I specifically told her not to bother you on your day off?” Shay looked for Peggy, who was too busy organizing the already organized cat collars to look up.
“Thanks, man,” Warren said, stepping over to grab the box, putting his arm around Shay in the process. “The day would have been a bust without these. Want one?”
“I’ll pass,” Jonah said, then looked at Shay. “You all good?”
“Yes.” No, she was so far from good it was making her palms sweat. “Warren, why don’t you start signing those?” She moved from under his arm and ushered him to the opposite side of the shop.
When he was out of earshot, Shay said, “I’m sorry, Jonah.”
Jonah looked at the guest of honor, sprawled out under a WARREN FOR SHERIFF poster, then back at Shay and gave a nod. One single nod that no matter how hard she tried she couldn’t decipher.
“That’s why I didn’t call you,” she admitted. “I didn’t know how to explain this. I thought about canceling, but then realized how many cards and calendars I could sell. And the dogs really need the exposure and I . . .”
Jonah’s face softened and he became the off-duty guy who made her belly flutter, and suddenly everyone else disappeared. “Nothing to explain. I knew what today was. I saw your post on Facebook.”
“You friended me,” she whispered.
“You accepted.”
Duh, as if she’d pass up the chance to stalk him in a socially acceptable way. The second she saw the request she accepted then went to his page to rifle through his photos, check out his history. All she got was a profile picture of him on his porch—drinking a beer and looking fine—no posts, no hobbies, and no other friends.
She wondered if the other people hadn’t responded yet. Or if he’d opened an account for the sole purpose of friending her. Both ideas intrigued her.
“So you knew and came anyway?”
“I knew today was important.” That was it. Five simple words, spoken with a warm intensity that was as wonderful as it was overwhelming.
“I don’t know what to say,” she admitted, beyond humbled. Jonah had brought the cards for her, even knowing they could inadvertently help his opponent. “Wait. How did you get the cards?”
He smiled, loose and easy, and—good Lord, was that her heart melting? “You might want to hide your key somewhere other than under the doormat.”
“Did you break into my house, Sheriff?”
“Jonah,” he said, his name a low rumble on his lips, making it clear who was before her today. Badge or not, she decided, he was her hero. “And technically I had the owner’s permission. Why, Trouble? You want to press charges?”
There were a lot of things she wanted to press right then, but none of them included charges.
“I want to say thank you,” she said and realized that she was swaying. Swaying. Shay didn’t giggle or blush and she most certainly didn’t sway. She looked at the ground, saw it move side to side, and sighed. Definitely swaying. “But it will have to wait since you know how my thank-yous can be.”
His gaze dropped to her lips, then the neckline of her dress, and she shivered. “The cat needs his meds soon, I’d better go. Good luck with today. Call if you need anything.”
“We’re fine,” Warren said, walking over to sling his arm around Shay’s shoulder again. “I got this. In fact, I was just telling Peggy that I could work your charity walk, Shay.”
“No need,” Jonah said and, wow, if he’d sent that look her way she’d wet her pants. “I actually came down to let her know that I already got a team together. Permit is signed and ready to submit.”
“You did? It is?”
“I did,” he said, all authoritative and sheriffy, but she could see the softness in his eyes. “And it is.”
“You did all that on your day off?” Warren asked, the bullshit detector clear in his voice. “That’s some kind of dedication.”
Warren did not mean it as a compliment. In fact, the what a loser look he sent Shay made her ears burn with anger—and ignited a protectiveness she hadn’t felt over another two-legged friend in a long time.
“That’s called being sweet,” Shay said, untangling herself from Warren. She leaned up and gave Jonah a kiss on the cheek, then stepped back and said, “And I am a sucker for sweet.”
At that, Jonah smiled big and wide. “It’s at my place if you want to stop by after work and pick it up.”
“I have to stop by my shop first. My new couch is being delivered later today.” It was big, durable, and comfy in that have-a-seat-and-stay-awhile kind of way. It was also the most important piece of furniture she’d purchase for the shop. She couldn’t open without it. “It might be late.”
“Anytime,” was his response, but the secret smile he gave said it was more of a tonight you’re mine kind of invite.
Shay nodded. She couldn’t speak. Jonah was in his element, being large and in charge, and he’d just invited her back to his place—after hours.
Anytime had suddenly become her favorite word.
Jonah hadn’t walked into the pet spa with the intention of starting a pissing match.
Okay, he’d totally gone into it with that exact intention.
When Peggy called asking him to bring d
own the box on Shay’s kitchen table, he’d thrown on his superhero cape and raced on over, wanting to save her event. Only when he’d arrived, he discovered she already had a superhero. Not that Warren was anywhere near superhero level—he was more of the bumbling sidekick—but he put on a good show. That the show was for Shay pissed him off, thus the match.
Lying about the permit had been a rookie move, one that Warren could prove in a single call. But there had been something about the way Shay looked up at him when he walked in, as if he, not Warren, had just made her whole day, and Jonah made a snap decision. One he had to fix.
Good thing he excelled at thinking on his feet. He knew the only officers not working that day were Warren and another deputy who was going to a wedding. And Warren spending all day with Shay, at her charity walk, was not going to happen.
Once outside, Jonah gave a final stern smile to the line of women, then pulled out his cell and dialed his boss.
“It’s your day off, Baudouin,” Sheriff Bryant said when he answered. “So if you’re calling me it means you need to get a life.”
“Working on it, sir,” Jonah said. “It’s actually what I need to talk to you about. I’d like to take a personal day the Saturday after next.”
“I’m glad you’re finally starting to think long term, use up some of those vacation hours before they expire, but Saturdays are hard.”
Jonah peered back through the spa’s window at Warren sitting next to Shay, looking a little too cozy for his liking, signing those damn cards, which were as good as votes.
“I bet Warren can take the shift,” Jonah said. “He hasn’t worked a Saturday in over a month. He wants to be sheriff, the guy should know what he’s getting himself into.”
The sheriff chuckled. “I agree. I’ll let him know as soon as you fill out the request. But if you’re taking the day off to work that walk-a-thon, know I can’t spare anyone else.”
“Understood.” Jonah disconnected and dialed in the next favor on his list.
