by Zoe Chant
But—he was a cop. Probably the local sheriff, she thought; the brown uniform with its star-shaped badge looked like a sheriff's.
Act natural, she told herself firmly, stiffening her legs as her knees tried to turn to water. If you go running off, he'll know there's something up.
She forced herself to walk toward him. Is this how I normally walk? Am I acting suspicious? It was a lot like trying to walk while drunk, the way she ended up focusing so hard on her normal mannerisms that she couldn't even tell what was normal anymore.
"Good morning, sir," she said brightly. Oh god, he was so hot. Being near him literally made her shiver, and not just with the fear of discovery. It wasn't fair. "Welcome to Marge's. Would you like coffee?"
He didn't answer. She thought he might not even have heard her. He was looking at her with a strange intensity in his strikingly gorgeous greenish-brown eyes. Then he said, "Tara Malloy?"
Tara had read in books of people turning white with shock. At that moment, she found out what it felt like. All the blood left her head. There was a roaring in her ears, and her legs wobbled.
She hadn't told Sammie her real name. She'd introduced herself as Tanya.
He knows who I am.
Which means he knows I'm on the run.
Any chance of smoothly covering for her awkwardness had shot right out the window when she froze like a deer in the headlights at the sound of her real name. And now Sexy Sheriff was getting up. And up ...
He was so tall she almost expected his head to brush the ceiling. Even in her panic, she couldn't help noticing how his broad shoulders filled out his uniform.
"Miss Malloy," he said. He sounded regretful, and maybe a little choked, like he was fighting some kind of internal battle. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to come with me."
Tara threw the coffeepot at him.
***
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