I have no idea who Mr. Cricket is, but he sounds like he and I could be good friends.
“Mrs. Roberts,” Kenneth addresses her with a tired sigh.
“No, no, no. I don’t want to hear anything this time.” She raises her hand in the air. “You must arrest him for robbery!”
I hear Kenneth taking three deep breaths behind my back. I’m totally aware of his presence even though he hasn’t moved.
“It’s not robbery, Mrs. Roberts. We’ve had this talk before. Besides, Mr. Cricket is eighty-two, cut him some slack.”
Eighty-two? My head whips toward Kenneth. Eighty-two? That’s how old my grandma was when things got really tough, and I know how many challenges she faced every single day. We’ll all be lucky to live that long.
A wave of instant fury rises up my chest, totally replacing the protectiveness, and I turn back toward the morning guest.
“Come to the station during business hours,” I start in a clipped tone, leaving how much this lady annoys me to zero imagination, “and don’t harass officials in their homes during their time off!”
With that, I push Ken back with my ass and shut the door right in her face. Then I march to the kitchen, pour myself a full glass of water, and down it in the longest gulp of all gulps.
The sound of bare feet follows me into the kitchen. “What the fuck was that, Josie?”
“What?” I pour myself another glass just so I don’t go back and pull all the rolls out of her hair. I drink slower this time for fear of drowning in the glass; I wonder if it’s ever happened to anyone.
“That!” He points his enormous finger at the door where the lady disappeared.
“I told your neighbor to stop bothering you at this ungodly hour.”
“That’s what you did?” He blinks slowly.
“I don’t see you chasing her.” I lift a brow, daring him to argue.
And argue he does. “That’s not the point, Josie. You shouldn’t have opened the door in the first place.”
“Why? Because you’re ashamed of me?”
“It’s not that.” He pinches the bridge of his nose.
“What’sthatthen?” I stare at his face, quite honestly trying not to stare at his cock in hopes of seeing the outline of the piercing. I deserve a medal for that because the task is nearly impossible. Morning Kenneth Benson is one large, yummy lollipop, and we all know what you’re supposed to do with those. His tousled hair, heavy eyelids, and morning scruff make my mouth water. Even his tangled and wrinkled T-shirt makes him so fucking sexy. It’s unfair how one man can turn my properly functioning brain into horny mush.
He takes a deep breath before speaking. “People here like to talk.”
“And what? You’re a grown boy, Sheriff. What can they possibly do to you? Call your mom?”
He gives me a funny look. “You’d be surprised.”
I roll my eyes at his words. “This woman is clearly harassing you and the poor old dude next door. Why would you let her do that?”
“This is a small town, Josie,” he explains tiredly. “This is how small towns operate. I can’t just throw her away.”
“Why?” I deadpan. I was never the one to give in to bullies. Hence me ending up in cuffs half of the time.
“Because I’m the only line of protection this town has.”
His explanation makes no sense to me.
Until it does.
The people have no one to rely on or complain to besides this man, and they don’t know how lucky they are to have him—cops in my small town were the opposite of him. If I saw one on the street, I’d cross it just to stay away. I wish more people were like him: reliable, honest, and loyal.
And I think Mrs. Roberts is well aware of that, hence her banging on his door before seven in the morning. I think I just started a personal beef with one of the locals, and I don’t feel even the slightest bit bad about that.
