Reunited With The Sheriff. Lynne Marshall
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“The meal you served me was incredible.”
She dipped her head. “Thanks.” After popping a bite of pancake into her mouth, she drank some coffee. “It’s got to be nuts being a deputy sheriff, too. Right?”
“Some days. Yeah.”
The waiter refilled their coffee cups and removed a few of the finished plates from their table.
“These days with those tragic stories around the country, it’s got to be extra hard on you.” She looked sincerely concerned.
“It’s all in the training, I think. We’re into community policing around here, and for a small town like Sandpiper, that works.”
“Didn’t you work in San Diego for a while?”
“Yeah, right out of college, I got in their peace officer training program.”
“I bet you’ve seen it all.” Did she look awestruck?
“I’ve been in some tough situations, that’s for sure.”
“Wow. I think you must have the hardest job in the world.”
“Hardly, but it keeps me on my toes.” For an instant, he let himself feel all that. Why not, she was laying on the compliments like extra mayo on a club sandwich. He puffed up his chest just a tiny bit. Pride went darn well with pancakes. It also came before the fall. “Do you remember how we met?”
Her eyes popped open like she’d just been asked the million-dollar question on a game show, or a security question for a forgotten password. “Grade school?”
“Fourth grade, when you were a pipsqueak.” It was his turn to play with the straw wrapper. “And you know why I liked you right off?”
“I thought you couldn’t stand me.”
“That’s because you were the only girl who could beat me at tetherball.” Suddenly thirsty, he drank from his ice water. “You had the heart of a lion. That’s what I noticed.”
From her expression, he knew he’d impressed her, but the big question was why did he want to? Maybe it was carb overload madness from all the pancakes and syrup. Nevertheless, he went on. “You bothered the heck out of me, but you fascinated me, too.”
“Then why’d you treat me so mean?” she said with an incredulous stare.
Something about her brought out the tease in him. “Maybe it was your Pippi Longstocking braids.”
She covered her face, doing her best not to blush. He could still embarrass her.
Her coffee-with-cream eyes drifted to her runner’s watch, then went ultrawide. She looked at him, panicked.
“Oh, my God. Forget the shower. I need to get to the kitchen to start brunch!”
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