Page 12 of Arrested By the Deputy

"He was. He passed before I actually opened, though. It was a heart attack out of nowhere." Cal's hand finds mine, threading our fingers together, and I let him hold it, grateful he doesn't try to fill the quiet with anything more than that. "So every time the shop does well, I think about how he pushed me into it. Kind of feels like he's still a part of it, somehow."

"He'd be proud of you. The whole town practically worships that bakery."

"Whole town also watched me get arrested and then dragged into a very public romance, so." I laugh, a little wet, and wipe under my eyes before it can turn into anything more than that. "Small towns."

"Small towns," he agrees, and squeezes my hand.

The night stretches on, easy and unhurried. I haven't felt this comfortable with anybody in longer than I want to admit. At some point Biscuit gives up on us entirely and curls into a ball near the fire pit, snoring softly, and Cal moves closer, until his arm slides along the back of the loveseat behind me.

"Can I ask you something?" he says, quiet.

"Always."

"What changed your mind? About giving this a real shot, I mean. Not just the dinner and the apology stuff. Us."

I think about how to answer that honestly, because he deserves honesty after everything he said to me in that kitchen two days ago. "I think I was scared," I admit. "Of everybody watching, waiting to see if we'd work out or fall apart. Scared that if we did fall apart, I'd have to watch the whole town pick through the pieces of it." I glance up at him. "But then I got tired of being scared instead of just being happy. And I've spent years wishing I'd said something to you back in high school, so I figured I'd finally stop wasting time."

"Years, huh?" Something like a smile pulls at his mouth. "Guess we're even, then."

"Guess we are."

His hand comes up to cup my jaw, tilting my face toward his, and there's nothing rushed about the way he kisses me this time. There’s no audience and no reason to hurry. It’s just the two of us and the crickets starting up in the grass and Biscuit's soft snoring somewhere off to the side. I lean into it, my hand fisting in the front of his shirt, and when he pulls back just far enough to rest his forehead against mine, I can feel his breath, unsteady, matching mine.

"Hazel." My name sounds like something precious ripped out of his mouth. "I want to be with you. For real. Not because of the group, not because my boss told me to fix things. Just because I want you."

"I want that too." I press my lips to the corner of his mouth, then his jaw, feeling him shiver under the touch. "I've wanted that for longer than I probably should admit."

"So we're doing this? Really doing this?"

"We’re really doing this," I confirm, and the smile that breaks across his face is the kind I want to see every single day for the rest of my life.

He stands, pulling me up with him, and Biscuit lifts his head just long enough to watch us head toward the back door before flopping back down with a heavy, contented sigh, like even the dog approves. Cal pauses in the doorway, framed by the porch light, looking at me like he still can't quite believe I'm here.

"You sure?" he asks, low, giving me every chance to change my mind.

"I've never been more sure of anything." And I mean it, all the way down. “I wanna be with you.”

He kisses me again, his mouth claiming mine in a slow dance only the two of us know. I can feel his hard cock against my stomach, and I want him more than I’ve wanted anyone else. He reaches down, palming my ass in his hands as I circle my legs around his waist. “You’re sure?” He asks again, smearing his lips down across my jaw line and down my neck.

“Fuck me, Officer Sutton.”

He growls, and heads toward what I assume is his bedroom.

We’re a mass of arms and legs, fighting to get clothes off one another. I fist his cock in my hand, working the length up and down while he takes my bare nipple in his mouth, sucking and biting. When he slips two fingers into my pussy, I thrust up against him, holding his wrist so that he can’t pull away.

“Gotta get a condom,” he whispers.

I let him go, but I don’t want to. He watches me as he searches the night stand, and I give him a glance as I move myhand down to the middle of my body, working my finger against my clit.

“You’re fucking gorgeous,” he hisses, jacking his length as he opens the wrapper with his teeth.

“So are you.”

He finishes suiting up, and then he layers his body over mine. We both groan as he plunges inside me and begins thrusting.

It doesn’t take long until we’re coming against each other, my nails scratching down his back, and his teeth buried in my neck, biting my flesh.

Later, tangled together under his sheets with Biscuit's snoring drifting faintly through the door Cal forgot to close all the way, I trace lazy patterns against his chest and feel him press a kiss to the top of my head.