by Megan Derr
"Yes, Sheriff," Ted said, and bolted off, dragging a handful of other loitering officers with him.
Silence fell with their departure, and Kirby sighed, savoring it.
"Oh, yeah, Sheriff—" Ted popped back in, and grinned. "Mama said to tell you she bought ten raffle tickets for the grand prize."
Kirby turned red. "Get!"
Ted got.
Groaning, still mortified a month and a half later by the stupid raffle, he stomped into his office and dropped down into his chair. He didn't know whose hare-brained idea it had been to raffle off eligible bachelors, but he was going to strangle every last one of them.
Especially since he wasn't exactly a bachelor anymore, even if Merry found the entire thing far too hilarious.
Kirby scowled at the mess of paperwork on his desk. He really should be doing it right now. He never should have let it fall so far behind. But between work, the added craziness that always cropped up this time of year, the party, the weather, and all his spare time split between Merry and sleep—most of it going to Merry—there just wasn't enough hours in the day anymore for paperwork.
Honestly, he was surprised there wasn't more paperwork burying his poor desk. Sighing, he began to pick through it, looking for the easiest bits to knock out, wondering how long he'd have to work before he could sneak off to get ready for the party.
That immediately made him think of Merry again—like he ever stopped, Kirby thought, rolling his eyes at himself. Merry was supposed to show up around seven, which was still entirely too far away, but at least it was a lot closer than it had been.
A month and a half since they'd last seen each other, that weekend he'd hauled Kerry's stuff down. Just an hour and a half, now, and he'd see Merry again. They'd talked, and texted, and emailed while they competed over spelled herb gardens
Nancy's phone rang out in the main room, jarring him from his thoughts, and Kirby climbed to his feet with a grimace. He hated answering Nancy's phone. He preferred his phone, where he never got calls that had not first been run through the Nancy filter.
He'd just reached his door, though, when someone else answered Nancy's phone. Kirby started to turn back into his office, when the officer, Dickey, held the phone out, grinning ear to ear. "Sheriff, your sweetheart's on the phone."
Kirby stalked over and snatched the phone from him, glaring until Dickey fled to the other side of the room. Then he put the phone to his ear, and pointedly turned his back to the room before he smiled and said, "Hey."
"Hey," Merry said, laughter in his voice, which meant he'd heard the damned 'sweetheart' crack and really, Kirby was going to knock some heads together after he hung up. "Just called to say I hit some heavy snow, so I probably won't be there 'til closer to eight. Sounds like things are a bit, uh, crazy there."
"Yeah, and the discipline is obviously slipping," Kirby replied, turning to glare as snickering erupted from the far side of the room. "That will be rectified shortly."
Merry laughed. "I'll let you go then. But Sheriff…" his voice turned a bit husky. "Don't wear yourself out administering discipline. I don't want you exhausted when I get there."
Then he was gone, leaving Kirby flushed and hot, the back of his neck burning and any hope of getting paperwork done gone forever.
The snickering on the far side of the room erupted into full out gales of laughter. Kirby whipped around, and jabbed a finger in their direction. "You lot clearly don't have enough to do these days, if all you can find to keep you occupied is harassing me. I don't know why you suddenly started in—"
"Weren't nothing to tease you about before," cut in one officer. "Now, there's plenty, and you're too busy talking to your sweetheart to follow through on threats to kill us." His words sent the others to laughing all over again, and making jokes and statements of their own.
Kirby threw his hands up in defeat. "Go earn your paychecks, you miscreants, or I'll find you something to do and I promise you won't like it."
"Yes, Sheriff," they all said, and scrambled—nearly knocking Nancy over in their haste to get out the door.
Making a face at them, Kirby went to help Nancy. "Thanks," he said when she handed him one of the hot chocolates she'd brought back. "You want to explain to me why my staff has gone loco?"
Nancy snorted. "Took you this long to notice, honey? But they're just happy to see you happy—and amused as hell to see you acting like a normal person. You've been more approachable lately, what with the phone calls from Merry, hiding in your office texting when you should be doing paperwork, and actually taking lunches and going home at reasonable hours. Being lovestruck is good for you."
Kirby flushed, and muttered something about nosy small towns into his hot chocolate.
Snickering, Nancy fondly patted his cheek then strode to her desk. "Are you ready to be raffled off, Sheriff?"
"No," Kirby said sourly. "How exactly did I get roped into this nonsense? And I'm not exactly a bachelor, anymore, you know." Not that he and Merry had said anything explicit, and they'd only sort of known each other two months—but hell, he had no interest in looking elsewhere. Until Merry, he hadn't been interested in looking at all.
"I know, honey," Nancy said, sorting through the tidy piles on her desk and putting it all into new piles. "But that didn't change until too late. It's not like your man minds; it's good he's got that sense of humor. Mercy knows his brother didn't know the meaning of humor. He even bought quite a few raffle tickets himself."
"I told you not to harass him about those," Kirby said.
Nancy lifted her eyes to the ceiling. "I didn't. He asked how much, and I told him, and he bought a few." She smirked.
Kirby narrowed his eyes. "How many is a few?"
"A few is a few," Nancy said primly. "Now, as I can see your mind is on your man and not your work, and work can wait 'til Monday anyway, I think if you wanted to sneak off early that you could."
"Never let it be said I don't know when to follow orders," Kirby said. "I guess I'll see you there tonight."
Nancy nodded absently, murmuring an automatic reply, already immersed in her work.
Smiling, Kirby left, sipping his hot chocolate on the way home. Once there, he first checked on his little box herb garden, which had taken over his kitchen table and seemed to be doing well. If his spells held, then in a couple more weeks he'd see if they could withstand the freezing cold outside like they should, and there were a half dozen other spells woven into them as well, to be tested as they went along.
He really couldn't wait for Merry to arrive, so they could compare their gardens side by side instead of simply through emailed photos.
Grinning, too excited to continue holding still, he bolted up the stairs to his bedroom. He'd spent the previous night cleaning the house, and had done all the little, last minute things that morning before heading off to work.
Turning on the shower, he left it to warm up while he stripped and got out his clothes for the evening. Nothing fancy, just his good dark jeans, a brand new black sweater, and he'd polished his good boots and brushed off his hat. He really hoped he passed muster. He couldn't wait to see what Merry would be wearing. Shaking his head at himself, he climbed into the shower and scrubbed himself down good, shaving and hoping his stupid curly hair would behave tonight instead of going every which way like he didn't know how to use a comb.
Clean, he clambered out of the shower and got dressed, fought and lost a battle to his hair, and finished everything off with a bit of cologne and his amulet.
Downstairs, he put on his boots and shrugged into his good leather jacket. Gathering up his things and stuffing it all into the appropriate pockets, he put his hat on his head and locked up his house, then walked the seven blocks to the community center, grateful that despite the weather, they'd managed to get the sidewalks and roads clear for all the people coming and going tonight.
He took his coat and hat off at the door, handing them over to little Betty, then nodded hello to the handful of people workin
g the front. "Howdy."
"Sheriff."
"Hey, Sheriff."
"Good evening, Sheriff."
"So, Sheriff, your man is showing up about seven-thirty or so, right?"
Kirby snorted in amusement. "Yeah, Mason. 'Round about that."
"We'll keep an eye out for him," said the woman sitting next to Mason. "What's he look like?"
Kirby only smiled. "You'll know him. He stands out in a crowd."
"Is it true he's Kerry's twin, Sheriff?"
"Yeah," Kirby replied. "You'd best see no one holds that against him, or he'll be dealing with me."
"No worries, Sheriff," Mason said, and the others all hastily added their own assurances. "Nobody'd cross you, no matter who he is."
Kirby nodded."So where do I find the beer, and who needs to be scowled at?"
One of the women laughed. "Beers at those blue tables, Sheriff. Don't think anyone has stepped out of line, yet. Your boys scared off them Wither boys for the time being. But if you want to make a couple of circuits, I'm sure you'll scare or distract any pending mischief." She winked. "I bought five tickets."
Groaning, which only set everyone to laughing, Kirby fled to the beverage tables. "Beer, Shelly, please."
"Sure, Sheriff. I've got seven tickets, myself," she said, snickering.
"Not you too!" Kirby complained. "I know this whole town has been gossiping about me and Merry, so why am I getting harassed about the raffle?"
"His name is Merry?" Shelly asked. "Ha! Wait until I tell Mrs. Holly I know and she don't."
Kirby fled for the sake of his sanity, running for the corner where he spied Ferdy with Brayton, Low, and Peter.
Peter smiled sympathetically. "I think they're harassing you worse now than they did back during that one Halloween."
"Ugh, tell me about it," Kirby said, heaving a sigh. He and Randy had caught hell that night, between Randy dressing like a gothic princess and their making out in the old clock tower 'til Mrs. Holly had caught them and screeched about it to everyone.
Gods have mercy, people were going to flip when they saw Merry—though they wouldn't flip half so hard as him, and not at all for the same reason.
"Sheriff?"
"Huh?" Kirby said, realizing they were all looking at him. "Sorry. What?"
The four men laughed. "We said, what does Merry think of the raffle?"
"He thinks it's funny," Kirby said, and took a long pull of his beer. "Maybe he'll win it and I'll be off the hook."
Ferdy laughed and pointed. "Well, you're not off the hook yet. Here comes Leslie, and I think she's wanting you to start the dancing with her."
Stifling a sigh, Kirby finished his beer and handed the empty bottle off to Ferdy with a thanks. Turning, he went through the motions and small talk with Leslie before agreeably leading her out to the dance floor and calling for Joe to get the music started.
After that, the party got into full swing. People crowded the dance floor—and he was scarcely allowed to leave it—milling around the food and beverage tables, clustering around the edges of the dance floor, trickling outside to play the various games set up across a well lit and heavily spelled field, couples sneaking off to have fun in the upstairs rooms.
Minus a couple of incidents he stopped before they could turn into real trouble, the evening proceeded along very well. He was, however, painfully aware of every passing minute. The closer it got to eight, the harder and faster his heart pounded, and he had to keep wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans. When his phone suddenly vibrated in his pocket, he couldn't pull it out fast enough.
He noticed the sudden silence in the room just as he read You look good in that sweater.
Kirby jerked his head up and whipped around to face the main doors, only barely noting he wasn't the only one staring. Then he forgot anyone else was in the room.
As hard as he tried, he never quite managed to remember how gut-wrenchingly beautiful Merry was, and how amazingly he pulled off his goth look.
Merry's shirt was, of all things, white. Ostensibly it was an oxford-style shirt, but it was shorter, tighter, and made of something shimmery, the cuffs and collar edged with short black lace. It hugged him fine, just fine indeed, same as the leather pants. He was never going to survive Merry making his own clothes, and making them to fit well.
All his make-up was black, even his nails, with hints of silver in the eye shadow. All his jewelry was onyx and diamonds. His hair was something else again, brushed straighter than Kirby had ever seen it, soft looking as hell. He wanted to sink his hands into it and mess it up dragging Merry close to kiss him until they were both senseless.
"Kirby," Merry greeted, smiling warmly as Kirby reached him.
"Howdy," Kirby said, fingers twitching with an urge to touch, though he managed to behave. "I'm happy you made it."
"Me too," Merry replied.
Kirby extended a hand. "Come on, we'll get you something to eat or drink."
"I would definitely love a beer," Merry replied. "How's the party? How long will it take them to stop staring at me?"
"That won't ever stop," Kirby said with a grin.
"Hi," Shelly said breathlessly as they reached the table, preventing any reply Merry might have made. "You must be Merry, the rumors are true, you are his twin, but oh man, Kerry dressed nothing like you, honey."
"Shelly," Kirby said sharply. "Could we get two beers?"
"Oh, yeah. Sure, Sheriff," Sherry said, quick to obey the Sheriff tone.
Merry laughed and tilted his head up, teasing and challenging. "So do I get a welcome kiss, Sheriff?"
Kirby drew a sharp breath. Man, he really wished they were anywhere but at the part, surrounded by people. "I didn't want to mess up your make-up," he said. "You really look good, but you just know that."
Merry smiled, amused and thoughtful all at once as he looked up at Kirby. "No one's ever stared quite as hard as you. I like it."
"What, like a small town yokel half gone on 'shine?" Kirby asked with a laugh. "You do kick like a mule, though."
Of all things, Merry's cheeks went pink, but he only kept smiling. "So where's my kiss?"
Smiling, Kirby bent and placed a too-brief kiss on the corner of Merry's mouth, fervently wishing for the party to hurry up and end so he could do the sorts of things that would ruin Merry's make-up beyond all hope of repair.
"How's things been?" Kirby asked as he drew back, though he knew that Merry had been busy with the holiday season, and that people had bugged him to go to other parties, until Merry had put his foot down loudly and clearly.
"I'm glad to get away for a few days," Merry replied. "Thank you," he said as Shelly brought his beer.
Kirby then guided him across the room to where Peter and the others had returned to their corner. "A few days?" he asked, excited. "I didn't know you had more than today and tomorrow."
"Um—" Merry looked embarrassed and uncertain suddenly. "I took the whole week. Is that okay, I don't have to stay—"
"It's perfect," Kirby said, then motioned to the guys as he reached them. "This is Peter, he's the local paranormal doc. That's his mate, Lowell, alpha of the Midsummer pack. Brayton just joined the pack recently, he's now our resident jack of all trades, you could say. Ferdy there is his mate, and he's our local gremlin. Guys, this is Merry Greyling."
Peter looked amused as he shook Merry's hand. "You are certainly quite the sight to behold. No wonder you snared our Sheriff so hard and fast."
Merry laughed and slid Kirby a look.
Kirby scowled at Peter. "I got things I could be telling your pup, doc, so watch yourself."
Peter snickered and held up his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright. Look sharp, you've got Mrs. Holly coming up behind you and closing fast."
"Shit," Kirby muttered and grabbed Merry's hand, darting through his friends and out one of the back doors, not at all above running like a coward if it meant avoiding Mrs. Holly.
"What—" Merry bumped into him when Kirby abruptly stopped.
"Why are we running?"
"Cause otherwise Mrs. Holly will catch us, and even the good lord is scared of that woman," Kirby replied. He slowly let go of the hand he was still holding, but only so he could give into temptation and run a hand through Merry's hair—letting out a silent sigh of relief when Merry did not protest. "And to be perfectly honest, I'd rather have you to myself."
Merry smiled in a way that could only be described as smoldering. "I certainly didn't dress this way so you wouldn't want to touch me."
Kirby made a strangled noise and pulled him a bit closer, unable to resist doing more touching, petting. "How am I lucky enough to have a chance with you?"
"I could ask myself the same question," Merry said, voice a bit breathless as he did some touching of his own, making Kirby hiss. "Given what Kerry did to people around here, given what I did to him…I didn't think you'd want anything to do with me. It was the shock of my life, being told there was a cowboy to see me."
"I figured you must hate me, or at least not care a whit one way or the other, for…" but he was loathe to mention more directly the matter of Kerry and how he'd die.
Merry shook his head. "I guess we're both lucky, Sheriff. As charming as this party is, how soon can we go somewhere you're able to ruin my make-up?"
Kirby shuddered, voice definitely hoarse and a little bit growly when he replied, "Not soon enough."
"That's too bad," Merry murmured. "I don't think I said, but you look damned fine yourself. It's no wonder so many tickets sold, to have a date with you."
"I really hate that raffle," Kirby groused, not caring if he was whining.
Merry laughed and reached up to lap carefully at Kirby's lips. "Like I said, can't blame them. I bought a hundred tickets myself."
Kirby choked. "A—why in the heck did you do that?"
"It was a good cause, and I wanted to win a date with the Sheriff," Merry said, laughing.
"Like you need a raffle to get a date," Kirby said with an amused snort. "You could have any date you wanted, hobgoblin, and just for the asking."
