Preacher dropped his feet to the floor with a hollow thwump. “That gamer dude? How do you know?”
“Saw them at Grind My Beans.” Gideon rubbed his temples. The caffeine had helped reduce the headache to a dull ache, but just thinking about Grace with Lucas was enough to bring it back to a full-on skull-rattling throb.
“Shit. Sorry, man.” Preacher stared at him with genuine sympathy. “It might not mean much though. One date doesn’t mean she’s gonna fucking marry him.”
Gideon leaned back and rested his head on the couch before closing his eyes. “I hope she does start a relationship with him. It’s better for both of us, if she does.”
“You keep telling yourself that, asshole,” Preacher said.
They lapsed into comfortable silence and Gideon rubbed at his temples again. It was better this way. If she started a relationship with Lucas, Gideon would have no choice but to accept that she wasn’t his.
He couldn’t be with Grace and the sooner he fucking accepted that, the better.
* * *
“Okay, Grace, you can do this.” Grace pushed her sunglasses on top of her head and reached for the door to Nan’s Diner. Her palms were sweaty, her heart rate was somewhere between massive heart attack and stroke, and she wanted nothing more than to turn around and run straight back home.
After what happened Saturday night, the last thing she wanted to do was spend more time with Gideon. In fact, she let go of the door handle and took a step back, this was a really bad idea. A good idea was texting Gideon that she was sick, returning to her house, grabbing her passport, and fleeing the country for the next thousand years.
“Yep,” she said. “That’s what I need to do. I hear Canada is beautiful this time of year.”
“The winters are wretchedly cold though.”
Gideon’s deep voice spoke directly into her ear, and she screeched and staggered away before whipping around.
“Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” She pressed her palm against her heart, it’s rabbit like pace freaking her out a little.
“Sorry.”
Gideon didn’t actually look sorry and she scowled at him. “Don’t sneak up on me like that again.”
“I wasn’t sneaking up. I was joining you at Nan’s Diner for our nine o’clock appointment.”
He was wearing jeans and a black long-sleeved shirt underneath his police vest. She studied the handcuffs hanging off his police belt before looking away. From the moment he’d said he would handcuff her to his bed, she’d been obsessed with his stupid handcuffs.
How would it feel to have that cool metal against her skin? How would it feel to hear the click as he closed them? How would it feel to be cuffed to his headboard, ass up and head down while Gideon pulled her panties to her thighs and spanked her?
God help her, she wanted to find out.
“What are you thinking about?” Gideon said.
Fuck it. He deserved to be punished for nearly giving her a heart attack. “Being handcuffed to your bed.”
His face reddened. She stared defiantly at him, but it was her turn to blush when Gideon took a quick look around then reached down and adjusted the crotch of his jeans.
“Gideon,” she said, “we’re in public.”
“If you don’t want to see me adjusting my boner in public, stop talking about being handcuffed to my bed,” he said.
Hearing the word boner come out of Gideon’s mouth – something she never thought she’d hear – made her laugh.
He grinned at her. It made the little lines around his beautiful eyes deepen, and softened his face and, good God, she loved this man. Loved him with every ounce of her being and always would.
“About Saturday night…”
“Nope,” she said. “We’re not talking about that. Not now, not here. If we do, we’ll get into a fight, and Wanda is counting on us to help with this fundraiser. Can we call a truce for one day? Please?”
“Yes,” he said. “Are you sleeping better? You look like you are.”
“I am.” She waited for him to ask about his missing shirt, already trying to come up with an explanation that wasn’t I’m sleeping better because I wear your shirt to bed every night, so, no, you can’t have it back.
He didn’t say anything else and feeling both guilty and relieved, she said, “Okay, let’s get in there, ask Nan for a donation, and move on to the next business.”
“Did you eat breakfast?” He opened the door for her, and they walked into the diner.
“No.” She’d been so nervous about seeing Gideon, her appetite was non-existent. Now, being in the diner and seeing and smelling the delicious food, her stomach made the tiniest show of hunger.
“Let’s eat breakfast first,” he said.
“I know you’re busy,” she said. “If we move quick, we could be finished by noon.”
“You need to eat and so do I,” he said.
“Hey, Sheriff.” Georgia stopped in front of them. “You want your usual booth?”
“If it’s available,” he said.
Georgia laughed. “You know it is. Nan keeps it empty every morning for you. Hey, Grace. You having breakfast with the sheriff this morning?”
“She is.” Gideon put his hand on the small of Gracie’s back.
Her entire body erupted in goosebumps. He’d spent the last three years doing everything he could not to touch her, and now Saturday night and his casual approach this morning to touching her, was throwing her off her game.
And making her horny as hell.
She slid into the booth as Gideon sat down across from her. Georgia placed laminated menus in front of them. “Coffee for both of you?”
“Yes, for me,” Grace said.
Gideon nodded and Grace scanned the menu until Georgia returned a few minutes later with two cups of coffee and a plate of creamer and sugar.
“Sheriff, I know what you want. Grace?”
Grace gave Georgia her order. When the redhead was gone, she said, “Do you come here every morning?”
“Just about.”
“Why?”
He grinned at her over his coffee cup, and it sent a pleasant little tingle straight to her pussy. “You’ll see.”
“What do you mean?”
“Sheriff!”
Grace glanced up as a short, skinny man approached their booth. He poked Grace in the arm. “Move over, young lady.”
She blinked a few times before sliding over. The man slid into the seat beside her and thumped the table with his fist. “Sheriff, you’ve got to add an extra drive by at night.”
“Hello, Sean. How are you?” Gideon said.
The man flushed. “Good, good. How you doin’?”
“Can’t complain. Grace, this is Sean Barr. He owns the Walgreens. Sean, this is Grace Larken.”
“Nice to meetcha’,” Sean said before thumping his fist on the table again. “There’s been a group of teens hanging around the back door of my store the last four nights in a row. Lord knows what they’ve been up to, but I’ve been finding butts all over the pavement right next to the door. And they spray painted some kind of symbol on my door. Probably satanic for all I know! I bet if you dusted the handle for prints, you’d find those punks’ fingerprints all over it. I know they’re casing the place.”