Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 26597 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 133(@200wpm)___ 106(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26597 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 133(@200wpm)___ 106(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
Cooter’s eyes bulge as the Sheriff squeezes his neck harder.
“Not in my town,” the Sheriff hisses. “Not with my girl.”
My cheeks bloom with heat when I hear him calling me his girl. That can’t be what he meant. Can it?
“If I ever see you in the Greene Mountains again,” he continues. “If you ever so much as look at that angel again…” His jaw clenches as the image runs through his mind.
“Watch out!” I screech when I spot Cooter’s hand sliding into his pocket. He pulls out a pocket knife, but the Sheriff handles it easily. He slaps it away and then knees Cooter in the stomach so hard the creep bends in two. The Sheriff kicks the knife away and it slides under the bathroom stall.
“You’re under arrest, you fucking prick,” he says as he lifts him up, spins him around, and pins his cheek to the wall. He does it so easily. Like Cooter is a child.
“That bitch slapped me,” Cooter grunts as his cheek is being pressed against the tiles by the Sheriff’s thick forearm.
“Call her a bitch again,” the Sheriff growls as he adds some pressure. “I fucking dare you too.”
Maybe Cooter is not as dumb as he looks because he stays silent.
“You’re lucky all you’re getting is cuffs,” the Sheriff says as he yanks Cooter’s arm behind him with one fluid motion. The metallic click of handcuffs is the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard.
“Emmanuel,” the Sheriff says into the radio on his shoulder. “Got a carnie in custody in the women’s bathroom in the Town Hall. Come get him.”
Static crackles, then Emmanuel’s voice: “On my way.”
Cooter squirms and curses a string of expletives, but the Sheriff stays calm and in complete control. His hand stays wrapped around the redneck’s arm like concrete.
My heart is pounding when we make eye contact again, but I’m not sure if it was from the close call or from something else.
“You okay, angel?” he asks, dark eyes softening just enough to make my knees weak.
I nod my head, not trusting my voice. The sight of this silver fox holding Cooter like he’s nothing has my whole body humming.
This man is pure authority. He’s protective. Possessive. A real alpha. Not some loser who cosplays as an alpha on the internet. This man lives and breathes that title. It’s effortless for him.
“I… yeah.” My voice trembles. “Thank you.”
He tilts his head, scanning me for injuries. “Did he hurt you?”
“I didn’t do shit,” Cooter wails. “That bitch slapped me! I fucking told you.”
“I warned you,” the Sheriff says in a low, lethal tone.
He looks like he’s about to do something violent when a giant cop with biceps the size of boulders comes barreling in. That must be the cop he called—Emmanuel.
The Sheriff squeezes his fist, takes a deep breath, and shoves Cooter into Emmanuel’s arms. “Take him to the station.”
Emmanuel looks at his boss, and then at me, and then back to his boss. “You okay?” he asks.
“Get him out of my sight or you’ll have to carry him out of here,” the Sheriff growls.
“You got it,” Emmanuel says as he pulls him out, ‘accidentally’ bumping him into the doorframe.
I take a breath of relief now that he’s gone.
It’s just me and the hot Sheriff and the echo of my pulse in my ears.
“Are you okay?” he asks, those brown eyes full of kindness and worry.
I nod, but the trembling starts. It’s probably just nerves or adrenaline, but my hands are shaking.
He reaches out and touches my arm. It calms some of the trembling and makes me feel better. “Did he hurt you?”
“No, but he was going to.” My voice is all shaky as I look up at him. “Then you came.”
He bends down a little, his intense eyes locked on mine. “That won’t happen again. Not while I’m breathing. I won’t let anyone touch you.”
I swallow hard when I see the sincerity in his eyes. He means it. Who is this man?
“What’s your name, angel?”
“Ellie,” I say.
He steps closer, not crowding me but close enough that I can smell his woodsy cologne. His hand brushes my elbow—just a touch, but it sends a tingle up my arm.
“You were so brave,” he says, his voice low and gentle. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”
“I’m okay.” I’m saying it both to myself and to him. “Because of you.”
“You did the right thing.”
“Slapping him?”
He grins. “Making noise.” His gaze drops to my mouth for a dangerous heartbeat. “I heard you.”
I swallow hard.
“I’m sure you clocked him good,” he says with a chuckle. “He’ll think twice about messing with you again.”
Yeah, because I have a hunky Sheriff protector now.
“Thank you for… hearing me.”
His hand is still on my elbow. His thumb moves once—just a soft stroke, barely there—and my knees threaten to give out.