Sheriff Waylon Kendall was more than appreciative.

  “Why that certainly spruces the place up,” he said after he helped her hang the wreath on the front door. He glanced down at her foot. “I heard about your accident from one of the Nichols kids. How are you?”

  “It was nothing serious. With a little ice and some ibuprofen, I was fine the next day.” Her ankle had been fine, but her brain had been scrambled. Not by the fall, but by Raff’s kiss.

  Why did the man have to be the best kisser on both sides of the Mississippi? The things he could do with his lips and tongue could turn a saint into a sinner. And Savannah had wanted to pull Raff into her apartment and do some major sinning. If not for Miss Pitty, she knew she would have. While her mind knew that Raff was not the man for her, her body hadn’t gotten the memo. She’d be so busy trying to save her business that she’d gone way too long without a man. It made sense that her libido would be awakened by the first man she spent any time with. And she had been spending a lot of time with Raff.

  At least, she had before he’d kissed her the other night. Since the kiss, he hadn’t been picking her up for rehearsals or driving her home. And that was probably a good thing.

  “Well, I’m glad to hear you’re okay.” Waylon said. “How do you like staying at Ms. Marble’s?”

  Obviously, news traveled fast in a small town. “I love it. Especially the fresh baked goods. And it worked out well since the Arringtons are expecting so many visitors for the holidays.”

  He nodded. “Their family has certainly grown over the last few months.” He paused. “I guess you’re probably going to one of the ranches tonight for supper.”

  “I got numerous invitations, but I think my friends should have one night with their husbands before their families arrive. Since I don’t have rehearsal tonight, I thought I’d grab something at the diner.

  Waylon shoved his hands in his back pockets and rocked back on his heels in a shy manner that was cute and endearing. “Do you care for company? Maybe we could head over to the Watering Hole after for a little dancing.”

  She started to say no, but then stopped. Maybe going out with Waylon was just the distraction she needed to get her brain off Raff. “I’d love to go to dinner with you.” She paused. “As friends.” She didn’t want the sweet sheriff to get the wrong idea.

  He flashed a smile. “With the rash of weddings that have been going on around here, I can understand why you might be worried about me getting the wrong idea. And I promise I won’t propose over dessert.”

  She laughed. “All right then. I’ll see you tonight.”

  At dinner, Waylon was mannerly and kept the conversation going by talking about his family and his hunting dog that refused to hunt. After dinner, they walked to the Watering Hole. The bar was usually only crowded on Twofer Tuesdays. So Savannah was surprised that the parking lot was completely full of cars and trucks.

  “Hank always throws a holiday bash in December,” Waylon explained on their way into the bar. “First drink is on the house.”

  Inside was as crowded as the parking lot. People were crammed around the bar and the dance floor was filled with country swingers dancing to Jingle Bell Rock. Waylon lead her to a table in the corner, and Savannah couldn’t help but notice all the glances he received from the women they passed. He usually wore a beige sheriff’s shirt, jeans, and a tan hat. But tonight, he wore a snap down western shirt, jeans, and a black hat similar to Raff’s. For some reason, it didn’t look quite as good on him as it did on Raff.

  “What would you like to drink?” he asked.

  “I’ll have a glass of merlot.”

  Waylon shook his head. “Hank buys cheap wine, so you might be better off with a margarita.”

  She laughed. “A margarita it is.”

  When he was gone, the man who worked at the post office came up and introduced himself. Fred thanked her for the wreath and said that numerous storeowners had asked where he’d gotten it and wanted to buy one for their businesses. While he was talking, Emmett and Joanna Daily walked up. Joanna looked like she was feeling much better, but Emmett still kept a protective arm around her. Which Savannah thought was so sweet.

  “I’ve seen those beautiful wreaths,” Joanna said. “And I agree with Fred. I think they would look wonderful on every door on Main Street.” She paused, and her eyes narrowed in thought.

  Emmett groaned. “Here we go.”

  Joanna gave him a look before she continued. “The town council has a little extra money that we haven’t spent for the year. If we paid you and bought your supplies, how quickly could you have the wreaths done?”

  Savannah was a little taken back. “Umm . . . I guess that depends on how many you want.”

  “I think twenty should do to start.” Joanna paused. “But the planters on the new lampposts need some sprucing up too. Could you make something to go in them?”

  Savannah’s mind fired with ideas for the planters. “Faux greenery and big, colored Christmas balls would look amazing. With maybe poinsettias on every other one. And I think twinkle lights in the trees is a must.”

  Joanna nodded. “That sounds perfect. I’ll call you tomorrow with the exact number of wreaths and what we can afford to spend. But that’s not the reason I came over. I wanted to thank you personally for taking over the pageant. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t volunteered.”

  “You’re very welcome.” Savannah didn’t think Joanna needed to know that Ms. Marble and Raff had bulldozed her into it. “It’s been fun.” It wasn’t a lie. She was actually enjoying rehearsals and proud of how the play was coming along.

  Joanna patted her arm. “Well, I’m glad to hear it.” She looked at Emmett. “I think I’ve had enough fun for one evening.”

  Emmett smiled. “Yes, dear.” But before he led her away, he glanced at the door. “Would you look at that? I don’t think Raff has shown up for Hank’s Christmas party in years.”

  Savannah almost fell off her stool as she leaned over so she could see the door. Sure enough, Raff stood there looking like the bad guy in an old western movie. His hat and western shirt were black and his jeans were dark enough to look black in the dimly lit bar. His gaze scanned the crowd, and Savannah ducked behind Emmett. She didn’t know why she was hiding. Or why her heart suddenly felt like it was beating twice as fast as normal. Raff was a friend. And she needed to keep him as one. Mrs. Carlisle had texted her three times in the last few days asking about the desk.

  “I think it’s so nice you’re here with Sheriff Waylon,” Joanna said. “He’s a mighty fine catch for a young woman.”

  “Oh, I’m not planning on catching anyone. I’m just here for a few weeks.”

  Emmett winked at her. “I think that’s what your friends said too.” He looked at Joanna. “Come on, Mama. Let’s get you home. I’m craving some of those sugar cookies that Maybelline brought over.”

  When they were gone, Waylon showed up with their drinks. A margarita for her and a Dr. Pepper for him. “Just in case I get a call,” he said as he took a sip of the soda.

  Waylon was a good sheriff. The entire time they conversed, he kept an eye on the crowd. Savannah didn’t mind. She couldn’t keep her gaze from the crowd either. Or maybe not the crowd as much as Raff. He had taken a seat at the end of the bar with his back to her and Waylon. For having grown up in the town, he didn’t appear to be part of it. People didn’t slap him on the back or engage him in conversation like they did with the other people who walked in the door. With Raff, they merely nodded a greeting before moving on.

  Savannah couldn’t help but wonder if their distance had to do with Raff’s personality. He didn’t exactly exude a warm fuzziness. Although not all the townsfolk were standoffish. Winnie Crawley squeezed right next to him at the bar. Savannah couldn’t hear what she was saying, but her mouth appeared to be going a mile a minute. Since his back was to her, Savannah couldn’t tell how he was reacting to Winnie’s attention. But the tenseness in his shoulders said it wasn’t good. She didn’t know why his inattentiveness made her happy.

  “Savannah?”

  She turned to find Waylon looking at her. “I’m sorry. Did you ask me a question? It’s hard to hear over the crowd and the music.”

  He placed his hand on the back of her chair and leaned closer. “I asked if you’d like to dance.”

  The song was a slow country ballad. Too slow to dance to with a man she wasn’t interested in. “I better not. My ankle is still a little sore. In fact, I should probably get home and ice it.” It was a pathetic excuse. Especially when she’d had no trouble walking all the way from the diner.

  But Waylon only smiled and nodded. “Then let’s get you home.” He waited for her to get up before he placed a hand on her back and guided her through the crowd. When they passed the bar, he called out a greeting to Raff. Raff must not have heard because he didn’t turn around.

  Waylon drove her home in his sheriff’s SUV. It was kind of exciting to sit in the front seat of a police car. She wanted to ask to turn on the siren, but then thought it was a little too childish. When they reached Ms. Marble’s, he opened her door and walked with her up the stairs. The wind had picked up, and when they reached her door, she shivered.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t even realize you didn’t have a coat. Let me get mine from the car.”

  “That’s okay,” she said. “I’ll be inside in just a second.” She was thankful when Waylon took the hint.

  He took off his hat and nodded. “Well, it’s been a nice evening.”

  “It has been. Thank you so much, Waylon.” She leaned over and gave him a kiss on the cheek before she pulled out her key and unlocked the door.

  Ms. Marble had offered to watch Miss Pitty while Savannah went to dinner. And since it was after ten o’clock, she decided to wait to get the cat until morning. She’d changed into a nightgown and was brushing her teeth when someone knocked on the door. Thinking it was Ms. Marble, she quickly rinsed and hurried to answer it.

  Raff stood there with his hands braced on either side of the doorframe. His hat was tugged low, but she could still see his eyes as he gave her a thorough onceover. The heat of his stare felt like it burned right through the thin material of her nightgown. She should’ve crossed her arms to cover her breasts, but her limbs were weighed down by the desire that flooded her body. All she could do was grip the doorknob as he finally lifted his gaze.

  “Hey.”

  The word hung there, a puff of hot breath in the cold air, and she had to swallow hard before she could answer him back. “Hey.”

  His lips pressed together, making his scar more pronounced. “I thought I’d stop by to get my coat.”

  “Oh.” She made no move to get his coat that hung on the hook by the door. She was too lost in the deep greens and soft browns of his eyes. They didn’t blink as they stared back.

  “So how was your date with Waylon?”

  “It wasn’t really a date.”

  He pushed off the doorframe. “With the way he was touching your back as you left the bar, it looked like a date to me.”

  “You saw me at the Watering Hole? But your back was turned to me.”

  “There’s a mirror behind the bar, Savannah. I was watching you the entire time.”

  She suddenly felt breathless. “Why?”

  There was a long stretch of silence before he spoke. “Because I couldn’t seem to stop myself.” He took a step closer. “I can’t stop myself from watching you.” He took another step. “I can’t stop myself from thinking about you.” He took another step until the toes of his boots touched her bare toes. “And I sure as hell can’t stop myself from touching you.” He pulled her into his arms, and his lips fastened onto hers in a slide of wet heat that made her knees weak and her head spin.

  His hands slid through her hair and cradled her face as he walked her back into the room and kicked the door closed. In between deep kisses, he whispered against her lips.

  “I don’t want you going out with Waylon.” He kissed the corner of her mouth. “I don’t want him buying you drinks.” He kissed the opposite corner. “Or putting his hand on the back of your chair.” He pulled her bottom lip through his teeth, and then licked it better. “And I really don’t want him touching you like this.” He opened his mouth and kissed her so deeply she felt it all the way down to her panties.

  When he pulled back, his eyes glittered with desire. “I want you, Savannah. And I don’t want to share.”

  “Melanie woke with a start to find the shadow of a man standing over her bed. She reached for the derringer under her pillow, but stopped when she heard Dax’s voice. ‘You’re playing with fire, Mellie. Billy’s no good.’ She rolled to her back and unbuttoned the top button of her nightgown. ‘Maybe I want to get burned.’”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Other men had told Savannah they wanted her, but never like Raff. There was a desperate edge in his voice and a hungry glimmer of need in his eyes. He didn’t just want her. He had to have her. Like air. Or water. Or food. Savannah had never felt more beautiful. More desired. Or more needed. She wanted to fill that need. She wanted to give him breath. Quench his thirst. Ease his hunger.

  She stared into his beautiful hazel eyes and slipped the straps of her nightgown off her shoulders. She shrugged, and the soft material slithered down her body and puddled at her feet.

  His eyes lowered, and he released a low hiss between his teeth like steam from an iron. She expected him to touch her. Usually, men dove right in when she took off her top. But Raff didn’t. He just stood there and looked until she grew self-conscious. Without a bra, her breasts were a little droopy. She started to cover them with her hands, but he stopped her.

  “Uh-uh.” He took her wrists and held her hands at her sides and continued to look his fill. She grew even more paranoid.

  “I realize that I’ve put on a little weight. But that’s not entirely my fault. Everyone indulges around the holidays, and Ms. Marble is the best baker on both sides of the Mississip—”

  He pressed a finger to her lips and cut her off. “You’re beautiful, Savannah. That’s why I’m staring. Because I’ve never seen anything as beautiful as your body in my life.”

  She couldn’t help the tears of gratitude that sprang to her eyes. “That’s the sweetest thing any man has ever said to me,” she whispered before she leaned in and kissed him. Lord, the man could kiss. His lips gave just enough sipping suction. His tongue just enough teasing sweeps. Somewhere between the gentle suction of his lips and hot sweeps of his tongue, his hand moved up to cradle her breast.

  Her breasts had never felt small, but they felt small nestled in the warmth of his palm. He flicked his thumb over her nipple and desire spread through her like a fine wine. He continued to kiss and caress her until her breath grew heavy and uneven. Then he drew away and looked at her with eyes that were a combination of hot whiskey and molten green.

  “One of us is overdressed,” he said in a low, seductive voice that made her tummy feel airless. He took off his hat and sailed it onto the chair, then waited. She didn’t know why her hands shook as she reached for the open collar of his shirt. She had removed a man’s clothes before. But for some reason, this time felt different. His skin felt hot compared to the coolness of her fingers as she took the edges of his shirt. She tugged, and snaps popped until the shirt gapped open. She pushed it off his shoulders and sucked in her breath at the virtual candy store of hard muscle beneath.

  She lifted her hand and tentatively brushed one pectoral. The muscle flexed beneath her fingers, and desire pooled inside her. She cupped the hardness in her palm, then flicked a fingernail over his nipple and watched as it tightened into a tiny nub. His chest rose and fell beneath her hand, and her breath matched his until all she could hear was their breathing. She spread her fingers wide and slid her hand down his stomach, strumming each rippled ab until she reached the waistband of his jeans.

  She ran a nail back and forth along the edge. She knew the brand. Even when she hadn’t liked him, she hadn’t been able to keep her eyes off the way his butt filled out his jeans. “Wranglers,” she said as she circled the button and traced the bulge beneath the fly.

  He remained perfectly still and didn’t make a sound. In fact, it seemed like he stopped breathing as she traced his thick, hard length. Wanting to feel him skin on skin, she flicked open the button and slid down the zipper. She slipped a hand inside the opening of his boxers and took his silken heat in her fist. She stroked him from base to tip and back again before he covered her hand and stopped her.

  He removed her hand and swept her up in his arms, carrying her to the bed. He laid her against the pillows, then removed the rest of his clothes.

  Talk about beautiful. There didn’t seem to be one imperfection on his body. Not one ounce of fat. Not one ugly mole or pimple. Even his tattoo was beautiful. The purple barbed wire heart amid the orange and red flames seemed to belong on the tanned muscled canvas of Raff’s arm. She studied it as he walked toward the bed and felt a pang of sympathy for the man who had been so marked by his past.

  But then he joined her on the bed, and she stopped thinking about the past. There was only the here and now, and the feel of Raff’s hands and lips on her body. He touched her everywhere. His callused fingers glided over every square inch of skin, his warm lips sipped at every peak and valley until she burned with an all-consuming need.

  “Raff,” she pleaded. He brushed one more kiss over her hardened nipple before he focused his attention on the spot between her legs. His tongue flicked while his fingers played. The heat he built inside of her melted her bones to butter and had her nerves jumping for release.

  He didn’t give it to her. Right before she reached orgasm, he lifted his mouth. She opened her eyes to complain, but the words died in her throat. He knelt between her legs, his dark hair mussed from her fingers and his lips glistening from her wet heat. Every one of his muscles seemed to flex as he rolled a condom over his thick length. He glanced up, and their gazes locked and held. Something passed between them. Something Savannah couldn’t name.

 

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