I lean closer, lowering my voice. “You know, I could probably do something illegal if you’re looking for an excuse to use your cuffs on me.”
She turns her head—slowly—spearing me with that gray-eyed glare that says I’m two seconds away from becoming a cautionary tale. “You’re unbelievable.”
I grin. “Give me a couple hours and I’ll make a believer out of you, sunshine.”
A flush creeps into her cheeks. “Stop calling me that.”
There she is. Deputy Sheriff Harper Garrett—professional, controlled, impossible Harper Garrett—getting flustered by me. I just wish I knew if it was because she wants me as much as I want her.
“You should leave,” she mutters, rotating her glass in circles.
When I’m suddenly having a great night? “And leave you here alone? What kind of man would I be?”
She exhales hard through her nose. Then she leans in close enough that I catch the scent of her fruity shampoo, and fuck, that’s almost enough to kill me outright. She looks me in the eye. “One of these days, you’re going to push me too far.”
Every nerve in my body lights up, and I smile slowly. “Sunshine, that’s the plan.”
4
HARPER
When Luke smiles like that, I want to shove him against the bar, rip his shirt open, and bite my way down his sculpted body—just like every other woman in Iron Ridge, and probably the whole world.
Which is why I’m never succumbing to his charm—at least that’s the lie I’ve been telling myself since he showed up here in Iron Ridge with his two special forces buddies.
I’ve never met anyone like him. There’s the physical part, sure. He’s like a badass hero from one of my romance novels come to life—the kind of handsome that should come with a warning label coupled with the bravado of someone who jumps off cliffs for kicks. My gaze catches briefly on the scar along his jaw. Then the broad line of his shoulders beneath his black Henley. Then the forearms resting on the bar.
Strong.
Capable.
So fucking hot.
Catching me studying him, he winks.
I hate the way that wink makes my breath hitch. I hate that my pulse kicks.
I hate it even more that he notices, because of course he notices. Luke notices everything.
“You done staring?” I force myself to take a small sip instead of guzzling the rest of my beer down.
His eyes travel slowly over my face, not crude, not subtle. It’s simply honest, which somehow feels more dangerous. “Nope.”
My stomach flips, and I roll my eyes, trying to play it off. “You flirt with me because you enjoy being annoying.”
“No.” He takes a drink. “I flirt with you because I enjoy it, and so do you.”
Lord, give me strength, because I really do.
He leans in and lowers his voice to a rumble that raises goose bumps on my skin. “You know, if you keep looking at me like that, people are gonna think you want me.”
I snort. “In your dreams.”
“Every night, sunshine.”
I give him a scathing look, but he just grins. I’m about to tell him what he can do with his dreams when his phone buzzes.
It’s a small thing—the kind of interruption that happens all the time when you’re with someone. Only Luke’s entire body goes rigid after he gets his phone out and looks at it. I watch it happen in real time: the relaxation drains out of his shoulders, his jaw tightens, and his eyes go flat.