Need You for Keeps (Heroes of St. Helena, #1)(28)

Neighbor Jonah was ready to man up, go outside, and see just how cold Shay was, and after a thorough investigation, offer her his coat—or other, more creative suggestions on how to get warm. Then he’d ask if she was hurt by what the town was saying about her on Facebook and, if she was upset, what he could do to make it better.

Unfortunately, at the moment he was wearing Deputy Jonah’s boots, which meant if he went out there he’d have to ticket her ass.

Fuck!

He couldn’t hang up his boots for another—he checked his watch—thirty-five minutes, by which time it would most likely be dark and Shay would be gone. Then he’d go home and revert back to being a *, because if he knocked on her door and saw that she’d lied about how many dogs she really had—they’d all be in trouble. And if she answered it in her current attire, he’d definitely find trouble—of an entirely different kind.

Shifting back to his seat, Jonah made short order of the never-ending pile of papers consuming the west quadrant of his desk. He was starting to tackle the stack behind it when he heard a loud rustling from outside—followed by a pretty impressive string of words.

Jonah looked out the window to find his little troublemaker—holy shit—hugging the tree trunk. Her sparkly orange tennies were only about nine inches off the ground and that little jogging skirt of hers was about one inch from giving him the best view he’d had in weeks, but she looked determined.

He had no idea what she thought she was doing, or what she was going after, but it was clear that given enough time she would hang herself—or cut down the tree. Both of which would require paperwork.

With a sigh that came all the way from his soul, Jonah fished his cell out of his shirt pocket and dialed her number. He watched her dangle there for a long second, indecision playing across her pretty face, then with a huff she shimmied—proving that she liked to match her lace to her tennies—and dropped to the ground.

She pulled out her phone, glanced at the screen, then at his window, and frowned. All pissy and irritated and looking sexier than any woman covered in bark and dirt had the right to look.

“Sheriff.” She did not sound happy to hear from him.

“Trouble.” He gave a smug little wiggle of his fingers. She did not wave back—smug or otherwise. “Mind if I ask what you’re doing?”

“Making friends and saving lives,” she said, and even though she was back to staring at the tree, giving him a prime view of her spectacular ass, he could hear the irritation in her voice. “You?”

“Oh, you know, paperwork, red tape BS, deciding if I am going to arrest you for trespassing.”

“And here I thought you sat around all day ironing your cape,” she said, a tad dry, circling the tree to stare up at the branches.

“It’s at the dry cleaner’s.”

That earned him a smile. A small one, but it felt like a win all the same.

“Why are you calling?” Moment gone, she went back to her job, examining a branch on the other side of the tree and giving him the cold shoulder. Which he deserved, he supposed. Settling on a low-hanging one, she gave it a few cautious tugs. “Can you get to the point? I’m busy.”

“Right, busy making friends and saving lives,” he said. “Wait. I thought that was my job?”

Shay paused midshake. Releasing the branch, those caramel pools zeroed in on him in a way that had him shifting in his boots. He didn’t like the look she gave. Or maybe he liked it too much. Either way, it was determined, calculating, and 100 percent trouble. Then the line went dead.

He’d barely pulled the phone away from his ear when it rang. He looked at the screen and smiled.

“Sheriff Baudouin,” she said, all kinds of professional. “I was calling to see if you could spare a few minutes to help a citizen in need?”

The answer should have been no, followed by a “you have thirty seconds to vacate the premises,” but Jonah leaned a shoulder against the window frame and found himself saying, “Depends what citizen is asking.”

“Me.” She rolled her head to face him and smiled. He smiled back.

“Well, then, you’re out of luck. I can’t do a favor for someone who is illegally trespassing on private property.”

She casually plucked a leaf with her fingers. “What if I am exercising my First Amendment rights?”

“Are you?”

Nothing.

Jonah closed his eyes and counted to ten. “Shay.”

She dropped the leaf and huffed into the phone, and he knew he had her. “Now I am exercising the fifth, so why don’t you pretend I am staging a sit-in for a rare brush turkey who has built her love nest in this old oak tree, grab your cape, and bring me some water?”

“Why don’t you come on over and I can get you all the water you want? Then you can sip it while I explain what the term trespassing means.”

“Can’t. In case the nest falls out of the tree, someone needs to be here to catch the eggs.”

“Brush turkeys are mound-building birds,” he said, looking at the pile of reports that would still be there come morning. He locked them inside the top drawer. “Which means the male would make the nest. At the base of the tree.”

“Is that so?” She sounded equally impressed and amused—something he could easily get used to.