Need You for Keeps (Heroes of St. Helena, #1)(49)

“Maybe they would understand if you explained the situation,” Peggy said, coming up beside her, and Shay shot her a yeah right look. “Then how about I stall? I’ll say we are getting the dogs ready for their big day. Every woman knows that sometimes primping can take longer than expected.”

Woof, Jabba said, pressing his already groomed face to the window and panting excitedly at the growing crowd. He was joined by two of her other fosters: Socks, a cupcake-sized Maltipoo dressed in pink bows and a tutu, and Boss, a five-year-old basset hound who was looking good and showing his best side to the waiting ladies.

“Well, that option is out,” Shay said, giving her mutts a pat on the head. “I can always run home and grab the cards.”

“I’ve got my booty buttons,” Warren offered, sitting back in his chair as though he didn’t have a care in the world. As though there wasn’t a crowd of demanding, impatient—and sometimes mean—old ladies all lined up to get their signed Deputy Booty trading cards.

Peggy looked out the window, then back to Warren and Shay and admitted, “Or maybe I should just call Jonah.”

But it was his day off. Shay knew this because she’d watched him mowing the lawn this morning from her kitchen window—while enjoying a cup of coffee.

Okay, she’d been spying. But the man was in flip-flops, cargo shorts, and no shirt, looking relaxed and ready. For whatever came his way.

If she were being honest, though, the real reason she’d hesitated was that she didn’t want to explain why Warren was there. This signing had been scheduled for weeks, and flyers had been displayed all over town since the calendar release, but a lot had changed in that time.

Namely, they’d kissed.

Three times.

Having Warren here with his BE THE BOOTY, VOTE WARREN FOR SHERIFF buttons, giving him the added publicity right before the election, felt like she was endorsing the wrong candidate. Even worse, she felt like she was betraying Jonah’s friendship.

“Well, would you look at that?” Peggy said, her eyes big with awe. “They’re lining up so orderly it’s like they’re at boot camp. And they’re doing it without a riot squad or the fire hose.”

That was because while most officers of the law carried their backup in their holster, Jonah carried his in the easy gait and stride he possessed. He didn’t need to show he was packing, didn’t even have on his uniform. The sheer amount of testosterone and badassery rolling off of him as he walked down Main Street in his shorts and ball cap was enough to send even the most dangerous criminals cowering.

That he did it with a smile was even hotter.

Jonah strode to the door of the spa and reached for the handle. It was locked.

He raised an amused brow at Shay. “You going to let me in?”

“Are they going to storm the shop?” she asked.

His confident look said everything she needed to know. She unlocked the door, and the sound sent Socks darting across the room and under the designer food bowl display.

With a grin that had her heart cheering and her lady parts sighing, Jonah stepped inside and handed her a box. Not just any box, but the box. The one from the printer that she’d been too distracted by his morning strut around the yard half-naked to remember.

“The Deputy Booty trading cards,” she said, pressing it to her chest. “How did you even know I forgot them?”

“Peggy called and said there was about to be a problem.”

“After I specifically told her not to bother you on your day off?” Shay looked for Peggy, who was too busy organizing the already organized cat collars to look up.

“Thanks, man,” Warren said, stepping over to grab the box, putting his arm around Shay in the process. “The day would have been a bust without these. Want one?”

“I’ll pass,” Jonah said, then looked at Shay. “You all good?”

“Yes.” No, she was so far from good it was making her palms sweat. “Warren, why don’t you start signing those?” She moved from under his arm and ushered him to the opposite side of the shop.

When he was out of earshot, Shay said, “I’m sorry, Jonah.”

Jonah looked at the guest of honor, sprawled out under a WARREN FOR SHERIFF poster, then back at Shay and gave a nod. One single nod that no matter how hard she tried she couldn’t decipher.

“That’s why I didn’t call you,” she admitted. “I didn’t know how to explain this. I thought about canceling, but then realized how many cards and calendars I could sell. And the dogs really need the exposure and I . . .”

Jonah’s face softened and he became the off-duty guy who made her belly flutter, and suddenly everyone else disappeared. “Nothing to explain. I knew what today was. I saw your post on Facebook.”

“You friended me,” she whispered.

“You accepted.”

Duh, as if she’d pass up the chance to stalk him in a socially acceptable way. The second she saw the request she accepted then went to his page to rifle through his photos, check out his history. All she got was a profile picture of him on his porch—drinking a beer and looking fine—no posts, no hobbies, and no other friends.

She wondered if the other people hadn’t responded yet. Or if he’d opened an account for the sole purpose of friending her. Both ideas intrigued her.