Rachel choked on the liqueur, spitting it all over herself. “You saw him?”
“Dear, we’re a bit blind, not senile. The light in the kitchen was on, someone’s shirt was on the kitchen floor, and there’s no happy pill in the world that can imitate the aroma of Bolognese sauce. Did you manage to pull the stick out of his ass?”
Rachel choked again. “Grandma!”
“What? Just asking.”
“Hmm… Since when do you know about… the sheriff and me?” Thank God it was darkish, because she was frigging hot. Her face was probably beaming red.
“You were spending too much time together. And when you were drunk and he gave you a piggyback ride home, the way he looked at you…”
“What way?” They hadn’t been together then.
“Something in his eyes told me. Do you like him?”
Rachel didn’t hesitate. “I do. He’s so fun to be around.” And sexy. So damn sexy. And she loved the woman she was when he was around. Sex had never worked this well for her, but with Adrian, she felt wanton and free.
Yesterday, after the first bout of debauchery, she’d woken up on the couch after dark. She’d wrapped herself in the quilt and sneaked up the stairs to get dressed. She’d searched for lingerie, but she had none, so she’d put on cotton panties, a T-shirt, and shorts, and gone back down.
The first thing he’d said when he’d opened his eyes had been “Who gave you permission to get dressed?” Man, just remembering the predatory look in his eyes made her break into shivers. He’d stripped her of the shorts and panties, murmuring how sexy those were, and had fucked her sitting on the couch.
After that, she’d been ravenous. On wobbly legs, she’d gone into the kitchen to grab cold cuts and a baguette and then had coerced him to eat. Big mistake, because he’d replenished his strength. After eating her out, he’d flipped her over and she’d ended up on all fours on the couch while he stood and fucked her from behind. She’d never come in that position before. Not once, much less twice. She couldn’t say that anymore. She’d forgotten to check, but she was pretty sure her teeth marks might still be in the upholstery.
By the time they’d made it to bed, she’d been dead on her feet, so well-fucked she could have died happy and without a single complaint.
And today, in the kitchen, if the OGs hadn’t appeared… She got flustered just thinking about it.
“You remembering the sex?” Wilma whispered, leaning into her.
“Grandma!” she yelled.
Th old lady jumped, startled, her hand on her heart. “Jesus, Rachel. You scared the willies out of me. It’s been a while, like last century, but I have had sex.”
“I’m not going to discuss sex with you.”
Her grandmother shrugged, sipping more liqueur. “Is he the reason you refused to go on any more dates this past week?”
“Yes.” She’d tried bargaining with Adrian. After all, checking off LOLO list items in return for measly dates that meant nothing had been a great deal. He hadn’t seen it that way. Fuck the list, he’d said. We’ll manage. “You can’t tell Rebecca or Greta about me and Adrian. Not yet.”
“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I could spill the beans to them today and by tomorrow we’d all have forgotten already. One thing I will tell you: it’s going to be great to have an officer of the law in the family,” Wilma mused. “He’ll have to be on our side. Family can’t testify against family.”
Rachel was pretty sure it didn’t work that way, but that was a battle for another day. “We haven’t made it that far yet. We might never make it. He doesn’t know much about me or my past.” Actually, he didn’t know much about her present either. About her relationship with Josh, her studies, and her dealings in Boston. She couldn’t come clean about one of those without uncovering the rest, and she still hadn’t mustered the courage to open that can of worms.
After making sure all her schoolbooks were safely put away, she’d forgotten about her notes on basic anatomy and first aid in the kitchen. Thank God he hadn’t seemed that interested.
Wilma patted her on the back. “That’s in the past. Everyone has the right to make mistakes.”
Maybe, but she’d made more than one. “I don’t know, Grandma. He’s… prejudiced.”
“Rachel, you’re the best grandchild anyone could dare ask for. You’re pretty, funny, compassionate. Independent. A great professional. There’s nothing you’re lacking, baby. He’ll never find a better woman. If he can’t see that, he doesn’t deserve you.”
She hugged her grandmother. “Thank you.” The old lady meant it, Rachel knew, but it was exactly that unconditional love that blinded Wilma from seeing her granddaughter for what she was. Or had been.
Rachel doubted Adrian’s love would be that blind.
Chapter Eleven
Adrian got out of his patrol car and walked toward Rachel’s garage. He’d been back on duty for a couple of days, walking boot included. He wasn’t yet at 100 percent, but he needed something to do, because being on sick leave and waiting for Rachel to be free was damn hard on his nerves. They’d been sneaking out to Boston whenever they could for some alone time, but those dates weren’t as satisfying as having her at his place or him at hers, wearing only underwear and throwing popcorn at the TV. They’d tried that once or twice since the OGs’ return, but they’d ended up hiding from their three punks and Sara, who loved his PlayStation too much. At Wilma’s, it was even more difficult to spend quality time together because the OGs were totally unpredictable, changing their plans at the drop of a hat. He and Rachel always had to be ready to duck and hide. And he was sick of hiding, so sick he didn’t even remember why they’d settled on hiding in the first place. They were both adults, right?
XL, Ash, and Monti were already in the shop. Aside from the afternoons when they had combat training with Mike, they were with Rachel every day, fixing cars and working on their project.
XL nodded at him. “Looking for Grease Barbie? She’s in the back. Either in her office or in the storage room.”
“Got it.” He passed by the office. Empty. The storage room—closet, really—was at the far end of the garage.
“Back in uniform?” Julian asked, lifting his head from under the hood of a car.
“Yep.”
“Rachel’s back there.”
Maybe Adrian was dropping by too often if they didn’t ask why he’d come.
Entering the room, he saw her up on a stool, inspecting some black pieces from a basket on top of a metal shelf. She was wearing a skin-tight black T-shirt and blue coveralls, arms knotted at the waist.
He approached her from the back, realizing they were the same height now that she was standing on the stool. While he nuzzled her neck, he reached for her hands, ready to stop her from elbowing him. Startling Rachel was always risky business.
She didn’t, though. Softly laughing, she turned around. “You smell too fancy, Sheriff. You stand any place in my garage and everyone can sniff you from afar.”
He wouldn’t know. He didn’t notice the scent of grease or oil anymore. God, for someone who’d always sworn by Hugo Boss, this state of affairs was pretty disturbing. “Were you waiting for me in here?”