And now, here Leo is, sitting on the edge of the bed looking way too edible in his crisp, clean sheriff’s uniform, staring at me without saying a word until it starts getting uncomfortable.
“Were you watching me sleep?” I ask, trying to be annoyed so he doesn’t know I’m two seconds away from shitting my pants.
“Would it creep you out if I said yes?” he asks in his deep, baritone voice that makes my insides all melty and my ovaries start handing out invitations for another party.
“Probably,” I confirm with a nod, pulling the sheet up to cover my chest since I feel too exposed sitting this close to him wearing nothing but a black lacey bra and matching thong.
Which is stupid, considering this man has seen me naked several times, but not in his sheriff’s uniform and not when he was acting like a sheriff. He was just Leo then. Now I feel like I’m in trouble with the way he’s looking at me all seriously in that uniform, and at least with a little bit of cover from the sheet I don’t feel so powerless. I know, it’s stupid, but sheets have power, trust me. The only reason no one has been attacked by the monster under their bed is because they were covered up with a sheet. It’s science, people.
“Then no, I wasn’t watching you sleep,” Leo finally responds. “I was listening to you TALK in your sleep.”
I scoff, tucking the sheet tighter around my chest.
“I do NOT talk in my sleep.”
“You talk a lot about pie in your sleep,” he confirms with a grin, making my stomach flop nervously. “Should I be concerned you’re dreaming about pie instead of me?”
The only thing that stops me from breaking down into a puddle of tears across his lap and begging him to forgive me is the cup of coffee I spot in his hands that he’s holding down by his knees.
“You should only be concerned if that cup of coffee in your hands isn’t for me,” I speak with false confidence, nodding in the direction of the cup instead of meeting his eyes.
He laughs softly, handing over the coffee. I forget about my need for sheet protection, letting it drop to my waist as I greedily grab the warm cup from his hands, moaning with satisfaction when I take my first sip.
“I know, it’s delicious. But don’t go falling in love with me just yet. I have to come clean. Bettie tried to show me how to work that machine, and I screwed it up so many times that she finally shoved me out of the way and made it herself. She scares me,” Leo admits with a shudder.
I don’t hear a word he says because I’m too busy focusing on the whole “falling in love with me” comment, wondering why in the hell I’m not making a run for it and jumping out of the second-story window to safety. I don’t want to fall in love again. Love is dumb. Love makes you do stupid things like spend five years with a man who doesn’t understand your passion and then won’t take no for an answer when you try to end things. I don’t want to be in love again and it should be the funniest idea in the world that Leo would suggest such a thing, even if he is joking.
Why isn’t it funny? WHY ISN’T IT FUNNY, DAMMIT?! And why does my heart start beating faster when I think about how easy it would be to fall in love with him?
“That really is the best coffee I’ve ever had. I’ll get the hang of Baby Cecil, don’t you worry. We’ll get to know each other, build some trust, and he’ll be pouring out your Liquid Crack for me in no time,” Leo reassures, making my inside do that melty thing all over again because he understands Baby Cecil’s temperament and understands the importance of using him for decent coffee and he just plain understands me. Benjamin used to roll his eyes whenever Bettie and I referred to the coffee machines by their names, refusing to use them himself because it was “juvenile”.
“Speaking of Bettie, where is she? I usually hear her banging around and screaming about being up at an ungodly hour whenever she has to help me open Liquid Crack,” I tell him with another sip of coffee when I notice how incredibly quiet the house is.
“Beats me,” Leo says with a shrug. “Emma Jo opened the door and then dragged Bettie outside after she let me in saying they had something important to do. They looked like they were up to something, but I didn’t have time to chase after them and demand answers. I’m too busy doing that with you.”
I slowly lower the coffee cup from my mouth guiltily and lean over to place it on the nightstand, realizing the time has come to spill the beans. Well, the pie, if you want to get technical.
“Before I say anything, can you please remove the Taser from your utility belt and place it a safe enough distance away?” I ask him.
He laughs, but quickly stops when he sees the serious look on my face.
He sighs, looks up at the ceiling quietly for a few minutes, probably praying to God for more strength to deal with my crazy, then removes the Taser gun from his belt and slides it onto the nightstand next to my coffee.
“Good?” he asks.
“It’s still within reach, but you’d have to lean forward and that will give me at least a few seconds head start,” I shrug, staring over at the Taser like it’s going to jump up from the table on its own and attack me.
“Payton, look at me. What’s going on?”
Taking a deep breath, I force my eyes to his. He scoots closer to me on the edge of the bed, grabbing both of my hands from my lap and tugging me toward him.
“Talk to me. I know something is going on with you. No more avoiding me. Talk,” he orders in a soft voice, letting go of one of my hands to brush a few strands of hair out of my eyes and tuck them behind my ear.