by Unknown
“This is what happens every time the Coat Crusader hits town,” Emerson grumbled, shoving a strawberry in her mouth.
Peggy stood, smoothing down her polyester slacks. “First we have our very own superstar vet, Dr. Huntington, who was more than happy to offer his services.” A few hoots and whistles went out for the handsome silver fox, whose way with animals—and women—had become the topic of many a Sunday tea at Paws and Claws. “I told him we would put a coupon for a discounted consultation or vaccine appointment on the back of each application for his services.”
What a great idea, Shay thought. Not only would it encourage people to be proactive with their pets’ health, but Dr. Huntington could help spread the word about the charity walk to his patients.
“Will it have his home number as well, for other services?” Ida wanted to know. “Because if I told the ladies in my canasta group that he was giving out his digits to anyone who entered, I bet they would all borrow a pet and sign up.”
“I’ll ask,” Peggy said as if that was a legit suggestion. She perched her reading glasses higher on her nose and read her agenda. “I also have that TV pet psychic lined up.”
Shay’s mouth dropped. “You got Sonya Fitzpatrick?”
“Who the hell is Sonya Fitzpatrick?” Emerson asked around bits of red chunks, seeds, and chocolate.
“The lady on Animal Planet who talks to animals,” Shay explained. Holy cow. Sonya Fitzpatrick was going to be here in St. Helena, at her charity walk?
“Oh, no, dear,” Peggy said, taking her glasses off to hang on the studded chain around her neck. “I was talking about June Whitney. She has a channel on YouTube about how to make crocheted oven mitts and costumes.”
Several oohs and ahhs went up from the over-seventy crowd.
“But she is a pet psychic?”
“Well, yes dear. She has birds. A whole aviary of them. She used to have them deliver messages, but now with everyone having cell phones and e-mail, she rents them out for weddings and such.”
“She rents out pigeons,” Emerson said, reaching for another strawberry. “Not doves. And the pigeons crap all over the guests. I went to a wedding last year up valley and it was like Alfred Hitchcock’s The Birds, only instead of blood, there was poop.”
Great. “But she talks to her birds?”
“No, dear, her dead lovers haunt her, scratching at her windows and hooting at all hours of the night.” Peggy looked at Shay as though she were the slow one. “And who talks to birds?”
“Sonya Fitzpatrick,” Shay said. “The pet psychic on Animal Planet. It sounds like June is a psychic who has pets—that’s not the same thing at all. You know what? Never mind. Who is the third judge?”
Peggy smiled. “You. As the best pet stylist this town has ever seen. We all think you should be the final judge for the walk.”
Well, if that didn’t make her all warm inside.
“I’d love to, but I don’t know if I’d be the best person. A good portion of the contestants will most likely be St. Paws’ former fosters and I really want to enter Jabba and Socks, but I can’t if I’m judging. It wouldn’t be fair.”
“They’ll find homes no matter what,” Ida said confidently. “And with a five-hundred-dollar St. Helena gift card for first place, we need a good judge.”
“We’re giving away five hundred dollars?” Shay asked, looking at the crowded bar and wondering if she was supposed to come up with the money.
“It was all donated by local shops.” Ida smiled. “And that’s just for first prize. We have several smaller prizes for runner-up.”
Shay was stunned and completely touched that local shops had donated that kind of money to her cause. That warm feeling expanded to fill her chest.
“Great work, ladies. Moving on to the next topic on the agenda,” Harper said, gaining control of the room again.
“There’s an agenda?” Shay whispered. Emerson sent her best welcome to it smile.
“Since Clovis can’t be here today,” Harper started, “I told her I would bring up her boa idea.”
Harper went on about boas, colors, and themes, and Shay leaned in to grab a strawberry and asked Emerson, “Where is Clovis?”
“She’s at the hospital with Giles.”
Shay’s hand stopped midway to her mouth. “Giles is in the hospital?”
“Yeah, he went missing yesterday, but they didn’t find him until early this morning. Nearly every first responder and volunteer turned out for the search.” Emerson paused to study Shay with disbelief. “How have you not heard about this?”
Shay put a hand to her forehead and admitted, “I was with Jonah all night.”
Emerson’s expression was one of surprise and pride. “Wow, you go, cat lady.” Then she stopped and her smile faded and she gave a low whistle. “Oh boy, so if Jonah was with you, then—”
“He wasn’t out doing his job.” And his uncle was hurt. Not that Jonah could have prevented Giles from wandering around town, but he wouldn’t see it that way. Jonah was such a protector, the mere thought of what he must be feeling made her throat tighten. “I gotta go. Tell Harper thanks for everything and I’ll call her later.”
“You understand that you are admitting to an officer of the law to peeping on Ms. Owens?”
“Are you hard of hearing, son?” Giles asked, spooning in another mouthful of Jell-O. “I went to Clovis’s place to peek over her fence. Heard she goes in her hot tub after hours.”
Jonah leaned in and lowered his voice so only Giles could hear. “A Peeping Tom charge carries a thousand-dollar fine and possible jail time in this state.”
“It’s not a crime when everyone involved is privy to it,” Giles bristled, then lowered his voice and waggled a bushy brow. “It’s called foreplay, son.”
Jonah looked at Clovis, who was sitting in the chair next to the bed, her hands folded in her lap, her frown so big it nearly detracted from the strapless corset she was trying to pass off as a top. He turned back to his uncle. “What about Celeste?”
Giles made billowing gestures to his chest. “They didn’t move, not even when the current in the water picked up. That’s not natural. And the girl thinks bocce is an island in the South Pacific, and she doesn’t eat meat or sugar. What kind of woman doesn’t eat sugar?”
Now things were making sense. “I take it you got Clovis’s cake?”
“Lemon-iced fig, my favorite. Set it on my doorstep with a note that said, ‘There’s arsenic in the frosting. Enjoy.’ So I enjoyed me a slice, then went off to return the favor.”
“By peeping?”
Giles snapped his fingers. “Now you’re catching on. After a decade of circling, I’m closing in. Maybe it’s the real deal you hear about in books, or maybe she’ll wind up killing me. Either way I’ll die smiling. Now, watch and learn.” Giles cleared his throat and raised his voice. “Heard she goes in the hot tub nekkid too. Now, write that down and see when the doctor will let me go home.”
“You heard him, Deputy,” Clovis said, gesturing for him to open the pad of paper in his hand, looking more titillated than terrified. “He was peeping. On me. Clovis Owens. Owner of the Boulder Holder, St. Helena’s supplier of naughty and niceties. Write that down. O-W-E-N-S.”
Jonah diligently opened his pad, jotted a few notes, then snapped it shut. “Ms. Owens, would you like to press charges?”
Her hand flew to her chest, as though horrified by the idea. “Of course not, Jonah Baudouin, and shame on you for saying such a thing.” She checked the doorway to make sure no one was coming and leaned in, “But you make sure that it gets filed in this week’s Sentinel police beat. I want to frame it for the shop.”
And with that, Jonah gave up any pretense of trying to make sense of this mess and shoved his pad in his pocket. “I’ll see what I can do.” Jonah eyed the two. “No more peeping and no more ridiculous reports, understood?”
Neither answered. They were too busy glaring at each other. Even worse, Jonah thought, using all of his
carefully honed control to resist arresting them both for being a pain in his ass, Giles’s little stunt had landed Warren, the responding deputy, another gold star in the town’s eyes. They were probably going to commission a statue in his honor.
Done, done, and so done, Jonah left the room, punched the button on the elevator, and rode it to the bottom, frustrated beyond belief.
He was relieved Giles was okay, relieved that no one had been seriously injured, yet he couldn’t get past his decision to shut off his phone. He was off duty, had done nothing wrong, but for some reason he couldn’t seem to let go of the possibility of what could have happened, especially when he turned his phone back on and it blew up with missed calls, texts from Adam, and even a message from Sheriff Bryant wanting to make sure he knew his uncle was missing.
If he won this election, his responsibility to the town and the people in it would increase tenfold. He knew that. Was ready for it even. What he wasn’t ready for was last night.
And Shay.
“Shit.” He looked at his watch. It was nearly noon and he hadn’t called Shay to explain why she’d woken up next to a note instead of him. When he’d gone back to grab his things, she’d fallen back asleep, looking adorable, well-loved, and just his luck, obedient with her hands above her head.
Rather than wake her, which would have led to testing just how obedient she could be, he’d settled for leaving a hastily scribbled note.
Work calls. Last night was amazing . . . J
P.S. The wishing couch works.
On a bag of dog food.
Okay, so at the time he’d been in a hurry and a little out of his mind with worry and guilt. Then his day had gone from bad to shit real fast, and now the window to call and explain had come and gone. And she probably thought he was a complete ass.
Not all that surprising. Nearly every woman Jonah had attempted a relationship with had thought the same in the end. “Emotionally unavailable,” his last girlfriend had called him, when in reality he hadn’t been physically available enough to even get to the emotional part.
Being on call 24/7 didn’t rank up there in the top ten things women looked for in a man. The whole man-in-uniform fantasy got old real quick once they learned what the uniform really meant, then they walked.
He wasn’t ready for Shay to walk, he thought as he crossed the empty parking lot toward his cruiser. Which meant he needed to drive to town and explain.
“Hey.” The sexy voice had Jonah stopping short. Shay sat on the hood of his car in cutoffs and a tank top that hugged her curves. Her bare feet were on his bumper, and she had a bag in her lap and a sexy smile on her lips that had him remembering every detail of his hands on her silky skin as she cried out his name.
Maybe the universe was throwing him a bone, giving him a chance to get that more they’d talked about.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
Then again, maybe not.
Her smile died at his question and he could see a potent mixture of concern and regret forming on her face. The concern did a number on his chest, but the regret was like a nine millimeter straight to the gut.
“Waiting for you. I heard about Giles and came right over.”
Right. Giles. “He’s better. A little dehydrated, a major pain in my ass, and quite possibly looking at adding Peeping Tom to his dating résumé, but he’s fine.”
“Actually, I came over to check on you,” she said, never once looking away, but the uncertainty in her eyes did him in.
“Me?” His boots clicked on the pavement as he walked toward her, not stopping until he was in her space. “It was just a search and rescue.” One that happened before he’d even gotten off her couch. He was as far from the action as an officer could get. “Why would you worry about me?”
“I figured you heard about Giles and were so busy taking care of everyone else you’d need someone to take care of you.” Shay held up the bag, shaking it. The grease stain at the bottom told him there was food in there. Greasy, sent-from-heaven food. “Hungry, Sheriff?”
She shook the bag again.
“Starved.” The last thing he’d had to eat was icing, and even though he could go for another helping of last night, he was pretty sure that wasn’t what she was offering. Taking the bag, he opened it and smiled. “It’s a sandwich.”
“Not just any sandwich, but a bro-wich. The triple B, if you please. Bacon, bread, and more bacon.” She leaned back on her hands, giving him a view of a couple more inches of thigh. And that tank of hers had serious clinging action going on, which made him think of another sacred B that would make a nice bro-wich.
“Oh, and there is a doughnut at the bottom, raspberry filled if you’re feeling healthy. And,” she reached behind her and grabbed a paper cup off the hood, “coffee, black, no frills. Just how you like it.”
Something in his throat caught, making it difficult to speak. He’d like to chalk it up to sleep deprivation, or an endless night of sex, but feared it was that elusive more sneaking up on him. “Thank you.”
She shrugged. “Even Superman has to eat, right?”
He smiled his first real smile of the day. “I’m not Superman.”
“Right.” She snorted. “Then explain that complex you’re so fond of, the one that has you rescuing cats from trees in a single bound and makes you incredibly selfless . . . don’t make that face at me, I think it’s one of the sexiest things about you. It goes along with that secret sweet side you work so hard to camouflage.”
She tugged at his belt, weaving her fingers under the loops and pulling him closer until sweet didn’t sound so bad. In fact, it sounded a whole lot like that foreplay Giles was talking about.
“Superman wouldn’t have bailed without much more than a note,” he said, noticing that the lot was empty and stepping between her legs to rest his hands on the hood next to her thighs. The position gave him a clear view of that summer top she had on, and what she had on beneath—orange satin.
“Jonah, you found out your uncle was missing. Of course you’d leave.” She said it without an ounce of mockery in her tone. “You would have gone no matter who was missing. That it was your uncle only made it more personal. But saving people, making their world better is what you do. Who you are. Why would I be upset about that?”
Jonah stood. He was shocked and honestly impressed. “Most people would.” And most women in his past had.
“Yeah, well most people suck.”
And that was why Jonah couldn’t seem to stay away from her. Shay wasn’t most people. She might come off as impulsive and reckless, but she was one of the most observant and real women he’d ever met. She took people for who they were, the good with the bad, embracing all aspects. And she had the ability to cut through the small talk and BS and get down to what was important. What mattered.
“You are a protector, Jonah. You take your responsibility for this town and the people you love seriously. Don’t ever apologize for that. Things happen, sometimes really shitty things, but that doesn’t diminish all of the amazing things you have done. No one can be there one hundred percent of the time for one hundred percent of the people, but you can give one hundred percent of yourself when you are there, and that makes a difference in every life you touch.”
Jonah hadn’t gone into law enforcement because it sounded fun. He’d become a deputy because protecting and serving was who he was. At his core. Even after the tragedy that shattered his world in San Francisco, he’d never once considered quitting.
Sure, he’d come back to St. Helena a little jaded and broken, but he’d signed on as a deputy determined to make a difference, do his duty, and hopefully find some kind of peace. It was ironic the only time he felt any semblance of peace was when he was with the one person who made him forget his duty.
But as Jonah looked down at the understanding in Shay’s eyes, he wasn’t all that convinced that time off was a bad thing. It had been far too long since he’d allowed himself to breathe. That he was able to with thi
s woman was going to make things hard.
But Jonah had never let hard scare him off.
“Every life counts,” he whispered, running his finger over the exact words written on her St. Paws tank top. “Is this the same kind of pep talk you give your strays?”
“No, but I have given it to myself a few times over the years.” She looked at him and he felt his entire chest still. “I’ve actually given it to myself several times since meeting you.”
“Why?” he asked, stroking her leg.
“Because you’re just so,”—she waved a hand—“you. And I’m not.”
His eyes fell to the creamy cleavage peeking out from beneath her tank and he smiled. “I’m glad you’re not.”
She rolled her eyes. “No, I mean . . .” Her voice softened. “My life wasn’t like yours growing up, and I’ve made some crazy choices. Some I’m proud of and others I question, but I own them all,” she admitted, tugging on her necklace, something he noticed she did when she was nervous. “I can be spontaneous and unpredictable and understand that leaping without looking for the net doesn’t always work out. But following my heart, even when my head is telling me to slow down, is who I am. It might complicate things or blow up in my face, but I’m okay with that, because it makes life fun and exciting.”
And it made her irresistible. For Jonah, a guy who loved structure and a by-the-books approach to life, Shay’s guns-blazing lifestyle was a complete turn-on. Not practical in his line of work, but sexy as hell on her.
“What I need to know, though, is if you’re okay with that,” she said quietly.
It was strange. She wasn’t asking his permission or apologizing. Yet at the same time she was giving him a way out, a way to blow this popsicle stand and not be the bad guy. As though this were a breaking point for most people.
Like Shay, he too wasn’t most people. In fact, around her, he was the best version of himself.
“I know exactly what I am getting into,” he said, cupping her face and drawing her in. “You are the most complicated woman I have ever had the pleasure of meeting.” He was close enough to see the stubborn determination flash in her eyes—but also with a deep sadness that came from somewhere else. A place of experience that prepared her for the blow of not being embraced. “Yet when I am with you, nothing seems complicated.”
