Charity Case - The Complete Series - Piper Rayne Page 0,240

pushing the jam container away.

“Because you love me.” Wyatt stands and holds out his hand.

The start of a smile forms on her lips. Roarke slides out of the booth, secure in the fact that Allie will give in.

She stubbornly stays in her spot on the vinyl for a few seconds. “You have five minutes, Wyatt Wiltaker.” She slides out and exits the diner with Wyatt behind her.

“Young love. I remember once upon a time...” The Sheriff glances over his shoulder to Liv cleaning off a table. “Nice to meet you, Ms. Crowley. Roarke, welcome home. I’ll see you two tonight at the rehearsal.”

“Have a good day, Sheriff,” Roarke says, and the Sheriff ventures to the back of the diner to chat with four men in the corner.

“Your breakfast is cold.” He raises his hand for Liv’s attention.

“It’s fine. I’m not that hungry anyway.”

“Good.” He slides out, pulling out his money clip and dropping well over the cost of the meal on the table. “I have somewhere I want to take you.”

He offers his hand and I accept, leaving the diner without a goodbye to Liv.

Once we’re on the street by Roarke’s Range Rover, I spot Allie straddled around Wyatt’s waist on a park bench in the middle of the square, lips locked, hands exploring.

“That didn’t take long to work out,” I say.

“She has no shame,” Roarke remarks as he opens up the passenger door for me.

“She’s young and in love,” I say, sliding in.

“She’s going to make his life hell.” He shuts the door and I say nothing else because coming from someone who was in a lukewarm relationship most of my adult life, a passionate relationship filled with fire and ice, doesn’t sound all that bad.

Chapter Seventeen

Roarke parks in front of a long building with a sign that says Woods Parlor High School, Home of the Spartans. An American flag flies off the flagpole and a bench sits underneath that reads, “Donated by Class of 2016.”

The parking lot has a sparse few cars in it. I’m guessing it must be the administrative staff that’s here for a few hours during summer break.

“I have to stop here really quick.” He exits the truck and by the time I open my door he’s pulling it the rest of the way open. “Wait for me next time.”

“Yeah, okay, whatever.”

“Should I reprimand you about your word choices now? You sound like Allie.”

I roll my eyes and say nothing as I walk alongside him toward the building. “You went to high school here?”

“I did.” There’s pride in his tone that I haven’t heard since we arrived in Woods Parlor. “Sorry, we don’t have ivy-covered walls and valet parking.”

“You know how I feel about assumptions, counselor.”

“Am I wrong?” he quirks an eyebrow while opening the door for me.

“No.” I chuckle and he joins me.

“So my assumption didn’t make me an ass.” He follows me into the building where we’re met with a big mural in red, white and blue, a Spartan helmet the main focus.

Taking my hand in his, he leads me to the left and then down a hall.

“How many people are here right now?” I ask.

“Are you afraid to be alone with me?”

“No. I’m just curious.”

“Probably just the athletic coaches and few janitorial staff. Summer school just ended.” He talks like he’s on the up and up about his school and I’m left wondering how involved he still is in this town.

“I thought you said you don’t stay up on the gossip.”

“Summer school dates aren’t gossip,” he quips.

Embarrassment pinkens my cheeks over the fact that he’s right.

His hand grips mine tighter. “I shouldn’t have said it like that. Let’s just have a nice day, okay?”

“Play nice, Mr. Bald…” His head snaps my way. “Roarke.”

A smile replaces his clenched jaw. “Better.”

“Roarke!” A man’s voice booms from down the hall. He’s standing at the end of the hallway in grey athletic shorts and a polo shirt. His hair is thinning, but he appears in great shape.

“Hey, Sean. I’m glad you’re here,” Roarke says with genuine affection.

We walk up to him and the two men shake hands. “This is Hannah Crowley.” Roarke’s hand lands on the small of my back and a tingle lets loose in my stomach. “Hannah, this is Sean, the head coach of the Spartan football team.”

The man’s eyes dip up and down, faster than most and I wonder if it’s because he doesn’t want Roarke to notice. Am I really that much of an anomaly in this town? “Pleasure.” We shake hands