The Griffin Marshal's Heart (U.S. Marshal Shifters 4)
“Oblivion’s had its appeal lately, but I decided if I needed it that bad, I’d rather risk trying to knock myself unconscious.”
“Good thinking. And I’ll be carrying that pruno description into my nightmares, thanks.”
She was relaxed with him, she realized, in a way that was unusual for her. It stood out even more since she couldn’t deny the frisson of attraction between them, a fizz that made each one of his smiles hit her like champagne.
She’d never felt that exact combination of comfort and flirtatious sparks. She had dated, but she’d never managed to get to the point where she could have both scorching hot sex and cozy nights of Netflix-watching coupledom with the dogs draped over their laps. She’d never had that elusive feeling of total connection, where she was just happy to spend time in the guy’s presence no matter what they were doing.
Some part of her had always been performing, acting the role of the good girlfriend in the same way she’d acted out Cool Aunt Gretchen and Human Totally Fine With Not Being a Shifter.
And now, when she really needed to perform the one role she’d never had any trouble with at all, the one role she’d always thought was just her—US Marshal—she was completely relaxed instead. Instinctively relaxed.
That was bad. She couldn’t trust how much she trusted him.
“Milky Way Midnight,” she said, forcing a kind of cheerfulness. “Got it. Be right back.”
She knew she’d just dropped their conversation midstream, an
d she felt bad about that—and worse about how he looked like she’d just turned her back on him.
Compartmentalize it, she told herself sternly. Whatever you’re feeling, you can’t let it drive you crazy.
“Keith, want a snack or anything to drink?”
“Coffee and one of those little packs of chocolate-covered donuts?” Keith said hopefully.
“I can do that.”
She headed into the gas station, listening to the little bell on the door ring as she stepped inside.
The cashier looked exactly like Gretchen’s Nana Miller—round, pleasant face and long gray hair that she wore up in a bun. They even had the same red apple cheeks. “Awfully cold out there,” the woman said to her as a greeting.
“I’m driving southwest,” Gretchen said. “Here’s hoping it’ll get warmer as I go.”
“I’ll cross my fingers for you. But it’s supposed to get nastier and nastier.”
Gretchen selected Keith’s little chocolate donuts and coffee, dispensing a cup for herself as well. She took way more sugar in it than Keith did, though. She took more sugar in her coffee than anyone else she knew, but at least it was a mostly hidden vice.
She casually checked on the car, looking through the plate glass front of the gas station. Keith was still standing outside, leaning against the door, glowering at the world like he wanted it to know he disapproved of it.
She could see Cooper’s silhouette through the backseat window. With the glass fogged up, he was just a blur.
A blur onto which she could project whatever she wanted? Was that the appeal?
No. She didn’t think so, anyway.
Cooper didn’t feel like a blank space. She’d gone into all this with plenty of firm, fixed ideas about him, no matter what she’d said to Keith or what she’d promised Martin. Sure, she’d intended to keep her position flexible, but she had still thought that he was guilty.
She was responding to the reality of him, not to the idea of him.
Maybe you’re just responding to the reality of his freakishly beautiful eyes.
Maybe nothing, the little voice in her head said sternly. You’ve seen good-looking men before—you work with a bunch of them. They’ve never had this kind of effect on you.
“You all right?”
Nothing like being snapped back to reality by Nana Miller’s lookalike.
“Sorry. Just spaced out there for a second.”