Hot as Heller (Aster Valley 3)

When I’d seen him at Tiller and Mikey’s house, I hadn’t realized who he was at first. He looked nothing like the smart-mouthed boy next door who’d made millions flashing his dimples in front of American households on Thursday nights for all those years.

He was all man now. Even though he still had distinctive freckles scattered across his nose and cheeks, he also had tattoos I’d never noticed before inked on his muscular forearms and the rounded shadow of shoulders and pecs defined under his shirt.

I cleared my throat and pulled my hand away. “Time to go,” I said again. “This isn’t the Bayou on Santa Monica for god’s sake.”

The beach-blond man I’d pegged as Finn’s sidekick the night before raised one corner of his lips at me, and his eyes turned predatory. “You know the Bayou?”

“Sure do. And I also know that Colorado has a mandatory community service requirement for first-time DUIs. You look like the kind of guy who might want to stick around after filming is done to help beautify our little hamlet here. What do you say?”

Finn answered before his friend could mouth off at me. “He’s not driving. I am.” He met my eyes, and his gaze held a potent combination of defiance and exhaustion that made me feel enraged and shockingly protective all at the same time. My stomach pitched a little like it might qualify for a DUI even without the alcohol consumption. “And I’m sober.”

I had no idea why I did it, but I grabbed Finn Heller by his biceps and hauled him out of his chair and toward the door of the bar. “We’ll see about that.”

What the hell was I doing? The kid was cherry-cheeked, sure, but he didn’t actually seem drunk. But once I’d started this ridiculous charade, I was going to finish it.

“Could you… go easy on the optics, please?” His voice was soft as if he only wanted me to hear him.

I glanced sideways and noticed a few people watching me haul him out of the bar. I loosened my grip and instructed him over to the side of my vehicle where I proceeded to ask him a few questions, followed by holding out my finger and moving it side to side for the first part of the field sobriety test. Normally, that would be followed by the walk-and-turn test, but it was clear to me he wasn’t drunk. Now that we had an audience with a few cell phones out, I decided to spare the town the additional drama.

“Wait in your car while I check with the bar owner. I’ll escort you back to your hotel.”

Finn opened his mouth to argue with me, but I glared him into changing his mind. After making sure Matt was able to close the bar down peacefully, I returned to the McLaren. Several fangirls were swarming the vehicle with their boobs and fluttering cocktail napkins.

The sidekick was drinking it all up, but Finn himself just looked tired. He must have still been hungover from partying the night before after arriving in town.

“Alright, let’s go,” I said in a voice that meant business. I made significant eye contact with the fans, and they scattered like dandelion seeds.

The sidekick pulled his celebrity schtick on me again. “Do you have any idea who this is?” he asked with a laugh.

I tried to skewer him with my crusty, middle-of-the-night eyeballs. “Yes. I’m fairly sure it’s the man who asked me to park his car last night.”

Sidekick snorted. “Well, you should know he barely ever drinks. The man’s a total bore.”

Right. And I was Aristotle. “Be that as it may, I’m actually the sheriff of Aster Valley. And when I say it’s time to go, that means it’s time to go.”

Finn actually blushed. What the hell? “Sorry, man. I didn’t know,” he murmured to his lap.

So now he was playing the innocent schoolboy. Not interested in that garbage.

“Now you do. And now the sheriff is going to escort you back to your hotel.”

Finn looked up at me. “Yes, sir. We’re staying at the Rockley Lodge property.”

Normally, I didn’t appreciate being “sir’d.” But when that lush mouth did it? Jesus Christ on a motherfucking hot bed of coals did I have thoughts screaming through my head in response to it.

I cleared my throat to keep from squeaking like a hormonal teen. “Follow me.”

As I turned to my vehicle, I heard the sidekick murmur, “Yes, Daddy.”

I clenched my teeth against a smart retort. The McLaren’s hungry engine followed me through the dark mountain roads until pulling safely into the drive of Rockley Lodge.

The drama was over.

Until the following night when the same damned thing happened all over again.

This time, I wasn’t nearly as polite as I’d been the first night. I was exhausted and running on less than fumes. Janine had woken me up again with a loud radio squawk, and I was contemplating running over the damned thing with my vehicle.