Carla Cassidy - Her Colton Lawman

“I was the talk of the town,” she replied. He headed down Main Street toward the store where she could buy whatever she needed to get her through for a week or two. “It’s amazing how fast the grapevine works in small towns. Everyone who came in already knew about Jolene’s murder and the fire at my house and there were definitely more customers in today than has been in the past couple of weeks.”

“I wish somebody had been able to tell you where Bittard is hiding out,” he replied. “We worked today interviewing some of his former friends, but nobody professes to have any idea where he might be holed up.”

“I wish somebody would have given me some information you could use. I’m used to being independent and coming and going as I please.” A sudden knot of emotion pressed tight in her chest. “Now I don’t even have a house to come and go from.”

Despite the fact that she’d had the entire day to process everything that had happened, it still didn’t feel real to her. She felt as if she had stepped into somebody else’s life and was just waiting to get back into her own.

“Did you contact your insurance company today?” he asked.

“I did, but unfortunately, the adjustor is not local and so he can’t get into town to do anything right now. I can start the paperwork, and I need reports from the fire chief, but there’s little else that can be done until the quarantine is lifted.”

“You’re welcome to stay at my place for as long as you need, even after I get Bittard in custody,” he replied.

“Thanks, I appreciate the offer, but as soon as you get Bittard back in jail, I’ll either rent a small apartment or just use the back room of the diner until I can figure things out and get the house rebuilt.”

His offer confused her. Why would he want to be stuck with her any longer than he had to? She couldn’t help the flutter of emotion that stirred in her. She’d never had a man be so protective of her, especially a man she found so attractive.

“Right now you don’t have to worry about where you’re living. As long as Bittard is loose, you’re stuck with me. We issued a press release this afternoon indicating that we have a witness in protective custody and that the investigation into Jolene’s murder is ongoing. We didn’t name a suspect.”

“At this moment, I can’t be one hundred percent certain that the man I saw was Hank Bittard,” she replied.

“And that’s why we didn’t name him,” he replied.

She was grateful when they reached the store and she could step out of the interior of the car where his woodsy cologne wrapped around her and his nearness was definitely unsettling to her peace of mind.

She didn’t want to like the way he smelled. She didn’t want to like the way his piercing green eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled. It was like an unexpected gift on a face that wasn’t accustomed to smiling too often.

She waited as he got out of the car and came around to the passenger door. She couldn’t help but notice that the snap over his gun was undone, allowing him easy access to the weapon.

This single action alone forced her to face the reality she’d tried to downplay in her head for the past twenty-four hours. Before she’d been a little afraid that she might catch a virus that seemed to pick and choose people to attack at random, but now a real terror simmered deep inside her.

This was a specific threat to her, a man who wanted her dead, and the only thing that stood between him and her was the lawman next to her.

* * *

Pink panties.

Hot-pink panties.

Flint closed the door to his master bedroom and began to change from his uniform to more casual clothes to wear for the remainder of the evening.

He’d gone into the store on high alert, hovering near her and watching to make sure that nobody else got close to her. He kept his gaze out for Hank, unsure if it was possible at this time that the man had a car and could have followed them from the diner.

What he hadn’t realized was that shopping with a woman could be such an intimate experience. He’d been fine as she’d grabbed several T-shirts and sweatshirts, some jogging pants and a nightshirt.

His close presence next to her felt a little more intrusive as she shopped for toiletries. Peach-scented shampoo joined a bottle of peach-and-vanilla-scented body cream. It was then that things began to get a little wonky in his head.

He imagined her slathering that lotion up and down her shapely legs and rubbing it over her slender shoulders. He imagined the two of them showering together, the scent of peaches filling the steamy air as he washed the length of her glorious hair and then stroked a sponge all over her body.

He’d finally managed to snap himself back into professional mode when she’d headed to the intimates section. He was okay when she grabbed a white bra and threw it into the shopping basket. He even remained calm and cool when the bra was followed by a package of underpants.

It was when she tossed that single pair of hot-pink panties in the cart that his head once again went a little wonky. Pink panties and peach lotion—those things had been all he’d been able to think about as they’d raced through the grocery store to buy food to stock his pantry and fridge with what she needed to cook decent meals.

He now pulled on a pair of his worn, comfortable jeans and a black polo shirt and sat on the edge of his bed to get every inappropriate vision and thought he’d had of Nina over the past couple of hours out of his head.

She was the witness to a vicious crime and a victim of arson. She was here to be in his protective custody, not to be an object of his sexual fantasies. Speaking of protective custody, he pulled himself off the bed, grabbed his gun and went in search of his houseguest.

He found her in the kitchen putting away the groceries they’d bought while the savory scent of frying hamburger and onions filled the air. “Hmm, something smells good,” he said.

“Just a simple pot of goulash,” she replied.

“Can I help with anything?”

“Absolutely. Sit at the table and stay out of my way. If we’re going to make this little arrangement work well, then the first rule is that I’m the sole captain of the kitchen,” she said with a slight raise of her chin.

He sat at the table and placed his gun in front of him. “I won’t argue with you on that, but now seems like a good time to discuss the entire set of ground rules.”

He couldn’t help but notice how cute she looked in a pair of pink jogging pants and a matching T-shirt. He also noticed the slight stiffening of her shoulders, as if she didn’t particularly like the idea of rules.

Tough. It didn’t matter to him whether she liked them or not. There had to be rules to assure her safety. He refused to have another stain on his soul. He watched her open a can of tomato sauce and add it along with some spices to the hamburger mixture.

“I don’t have a security system installed here,” he said. “I always figured it would take a real nut job to try to rob or break into a chief of police’s home. But that means we need to get a little creative as far as making the house as safe as possible while you’re here.”

She dropped a handful of egg noodles into a pot of boiling water and then turned to look at him, her hazel eyes narrowed slightly. “Creative how?”

“Your bedroom door stays open at night. There’s only two doors that would allow entry into the house, the front door and the kitchen door.” He pointed to the door that led out to his fenced backyard. “I intend to sleep on the sofa in the living room, that way I will hear anyone trying to come into any door or window.”

“Surely that isn’t necessary,” she protested.