Need You for Keeps (Heroes of St. Helena, #1)(47)

Jonah looked into her warm eyes and found himself hoping that she included herself in that statement. For some reason, the idea of disappointing her or, worse, being a passing phase in her world, didn’t sit well.

“And that wasn’t you doing your job. That was you taking care of someone.” He rolled his eyes and she laughed. “What? I think it’s sweet.”

“Sweet?” he choked. Then to be sure he was clear, he said, “I am not sweet.”

Sweet was a word someone used when describing a basket of puppies, not someone who carried a Glock and was trained to kill with his hands. It most certainly did not pertain to someone she had X-rated dreams about.

And that was a problem. Jonah didn’t want to be just another one of Shay’s strays, another lost soul she felt the need to rescue. He wanted to be—well, he wasn’t sure, but it was nowhere near sweet.

“You so are,” she laughed, then leaned in, showing him a little slice of heaven encased in hot pink lace. “It’s one of your best-kept secrets, Sheriff. But don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.”

He liked the idea of sharing a secret with Shay, as long as she was willing to be a part of that sharing. Secrets were about give and take and usually led to common ground. And common ground would hopefully get him more sure footing so he could go behind enemy lines and demonstrate just how far from sweet he could be.

“Thank you,” he said, leaning in and lowering his voice. “Now it’s only fair you tell me one of yours.”

He was hoping for the secret that led to getting in her panties, because so far he was oh-for-two in that department. But more than that, he wanted to understand how a woman could give herself so completely to her flock of animals but hold herself distant from everything else life had to offer.

“I don’t have any secrets. I’m an open book.”

Now it was his turn to laugh. Loudly. “Trouble, you are like Pandora’s box.” She pressed her lips tightly together and raised a brow. “Fair is fair.”

She thought about this, then gave a slow nod, her eyes serious as she leaned in and—hello, that neckline went from V to plunging. So he leaned in too, his chest all kinds of serious as she cleared her throat and made a big deal about lowering her voice.

“I’m here to get your signature.”

He liked the sound of that. According to Adam—and Facebook—getting a man’s signature in St. Helena was woman-speak for I’m interested if you are. He looked down at her cleavage again—how could he not?—and grinned, because, yeah, he was interested. “Where would you like me to sign?”

“Right here,” she said, pulling a form out of her purse and setting it on the counter.

He could tell by the color and size that it was a permit from the city, and his right eye twitched.

Impatient as ever, she pushed the permit closer for his viewing ease and he subconsciously stepped back. He looked behind him, disappointed to find not a single other deputy around to hand this off to.

“You haven’t even read it,” she said, crossing her arms.

“Don’t need to.” The second he touched it, gave it even an ounce of consideration, he’d be sucked into one of her schemes. “I don’t do permits. Shirley, the secretary, does though, and she’ll be back from her break in about ten minutes.”

“I know,” she explained. “But the lady at town hall said it usually takes her a few weeks to process these kinds of requests and I don’t have a few weeks. So I’m asking you.” She swallowed—hard. “As a favor.”

“Last time you asked me for a favor, I ended up with a cat.”

She patted his arm. “And see how well that turned out.”

Jonah felt his gut tighten because he knew this favor was going to bite him in the ass—and he was going to say yes anyway. There was something about Shay that had him making bad decisions, and his gut was telling him that nothing about this favor was going to be easy—or smart.

His heart, though, was reminding him that Shay didn’t ask for favors—ever.

She gave a long-suffering and somewhat nervous sigh and he picked up the form. “To be clear, my taking the paper does not mean I am agreeing to the favor.”

“Oh, you’ll agree,” she said, her excitement bubbling from her every pore. “I am throwing a charity walk.”

“A walk, huh?” He scanned the permit.

“More of a prance. I’m calling it the first annual Prance for Paws Charity Pet Walk. I hope to raise enough money to get my shelter up and running before the deadline.”

“Is that how you got these?” He set the paper down and picked up her hands, tracing the scratches marring her palms and forearms with his thumb. He felt her shiver.

“Demo was two grand, so to save some money, me and my crew—”

He smiled. “You have a crew?”

“Why do you look so surprised?”

“I’m not.”

“Well we”—she put fancy air quotes around the last word—“demoed the entire first floor of the shop over the weekend. By ourselves.”

“Impressive.” And sexy as hell. Oh, he knew Shay was a hard worker, that she would build the shop from the ground up with toothpicks if she had to, but the image of her wearing a tool belt and swinging a sledgehammer turned him on.