My Sheriff

Chapter One

One

Meredith Stone

I really need to get my shit together and stop thinking about him. God, every single time he comes into Stone’s Throw, my family’s bakery, I die inside. I want him more than my next breath. He is so beyond good looking. He consumes me and my every waking thought. I wonder who and what he does in his spare time. I know I’m setting myself up for heartbreak. I’m not dumb, I know he’d never be into a girl like me. I’m not saying it’s not possible for other curvy girls to have excruciatingly hot guys into them, just not me. I don’t know why I feel this way. I have friends. No one treats me differently, but sometimes none of that matters. I know I’m too plain. I’m not fashionable. I’m not even interesting.

My blonde hair is big, like straight out of the eighties but I love it. I leave my snow boots with my coat in a heap on the floor at the door. All because I hate wearing shoes inside. I compromise with unsafe for the kitchen flip-flops. I’m a bit of a slob. Even now, I’m wearing my dad’s old Queen t-shirt and a pair of leggings that have seen better days. They aren’t even tight anymore. They’re garbage honestly, I just can’t part with them. I can’t part with most things. I’m a borderline hoarder, to be honest. My hair is currently pulled back in a braid and a hairnet. Classy. I’m short as fuck and on top of that, I’m too chubby for a man like him. He’s 6’3, maybe taller, with short dark hair and blue eyes. I always stare at him without blinking, like I am afraid he’s gonna disappear. He probably thinks I’m insane. His neatly kept beard makes me weak in the knees. He looks like he’s been chiseled from marble. I wanna lick him. Hanging out with him, through my brother in law has done nothing to curb this reaction.

Every day he orders the same exact thing without fail. A large black coffee to go and all the blueberry Danish we have on hand. I wonder if he knows I make the Danish.

Sometimes the way he looks at me gives me hope. Hope that I’m not doomed to pine away for him for the rest of my life. Why do I feel like I’m in love with him when I don’t even really know him? Except I know that I do. I’m a firm believer in going with your feelings. Sheriff Dallas O’Grady is the best man I’ve ever known. He’s kind, caring, and domineering. In all the time that I’ve known him, I learned everything I could about him.

My sister, Aubree, is currently on maternity leave, so it’s just me baking this morning. My brother in law wasted no more time after waiting fourteen years to claim her. I don’t know how Breezy did it for so long. I’m ready to go crazy after more than a year.

Since I’ve been eighteen for all of five hours, I wonder if it’s too early to bang on the good Sheriff’s front door and beg him to make me a woman? I smile and continue singing.

I’m jamming out, and by jamming out, I mean shaking my ass, to a bit of old school No Doubt, rolling out the dough, when I hear a noise that has every hair on my neck suddenly standing on end. The growl echoes in my head. Gripping my rolling pin tight, I turn. I see a shadowy figure standing in the dark corner and I can’t help screaming. When he steps out of the dark, I relax.

It’s him. Oh, God he’s magnificent.

He’s standing there in grey sweatpants and a black Regret PD t-shirt. Where’s his coat? It was negative three degrees when I left home a little while ago. I’ve seen him out of uniform, but that was jeans and t-shirts. This is super casual, and I didn’t think it was possible, but somehow this is sexier.

“Mere, calm down. It’s just me,” the voice I know so well says. How long has he been standing there? Did I conjure him up by thinking about him?

“Sheriff O’Grady?” I ask confused, lowering my flour-covered weapon and turning my music off.

“Back to that are we?” he asks chuckling. I roll my eyes.

“Dallas, what are you doing here? It’s five in the morning. You scared the shit out of me.”

“Language, Meredith,” he says chuckling.

“Ugh, are you going to tell me why you’re here or do I have to guess?” I hate when he tells me to mind my language. My parents don’t even do that.

“Happy Birthday, baby,” he says, taking me by surprise. Baby? I think I’m about to explode.

“Oh. Thank you,” I say smiling. “I didn’t know you even knew.”