a Jenn-Air range. She waited next to the counter, eyeing the delicious selection of oranges piled in a red-and-white speckled colander. The sound of water splashing while Max washed up muffled the resulting grumble of her stomach. She couldn’t understand why she was so damn hungry. Famished, actually. Like it’d been days since she’d last eaten, rather than hours.
“You’re not a vegetarian, are you?”
She glanced at Max, her tummy getting that funny tingle again as she watched him lather up his hands. Okay, there was no reason why she should be so ridiculously turned on by that, for crying out loud. “Nope. Plop a slab of prime rib in front of me and I’m a happy woman.”
“Now you’re talking my language.” He dried his hands with a dish towel before journeying to the fridge. “How about I grill a couple T-bones? And there’s just enough fixings for salad.”
“I can take care of that part, if you want.”
“You’re a guest. My mom would kick my ass if I put you to work.”
She snorted. “You also saved my life today. Pretty sure that trumps social manners.” Before he could balk, she snatched the head of romaine lettuce from his grip and carried it to the sink for rinsing. While he went out onto the deck to light the grill, she rummaged in the crisper drawer and found a cucumber and a container of grape tomatoes. By the time he came back inside she’d managed to toss all the ingredients in a large ceramic bowl she’d discovered in one of the well-stocked cupboards.
“Looks like you found everything easily enough.” Reaching above her head, he snagged a plate. He stood so close, his sweatpants brushed along her thigh in a soft glide. She gulped as a thousand goose bumps cropped across her skin.
Slapping the cupboard door shut, he stepped away.
The breath she’d been holding trickled free, and she turned slightly while he unwrapped a pair of steaks from their butcher paper. Her mind returned to the photo in his office of him receiving some type of award. Curiosity once again gnawed at her. “You mentioned your mom is a professional chef. How about you?”
He shook his head. “Law enforcement.”
“You’re a cop?” No wonder he’d been quick to rescue her. Taking on the role of hero would be natural to him. An intrinsic instinct.
“Sheriff.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Not in the human realm, mind you. My jurisdiction isn’t land based.”
His pronouncement baffled her, until she recalled where he’d found her today. “The ocean? I didn’t know there was any law enforcement in place there.”
Max’s smile was lopsided and dangerously endearing. “We’re pretty low profile.”
“What exactly does your job entail? Or can you say?” She wrinkled her nose. “If it’s one of those I’d tell ya but then I’d have to kill you deals, I’ll stick with staying in the dark.”
He chuckled. The husky sound slid over her like smooth velvet, bringing a gush of wetness between her thighs and making her nipples pebble. Oh jeez. She’d never been more grateful for a baggy shirt.
“No, nothing like that. Basically, I do the same thing a human sheriff does, only in water.” He made a vague gesture with his arm. “Keep the peace. Protect the innocent. Put the hurt on bad guys. Whatever’s required of me.”
She cocked her head. “Like rescue damsels in distress from leviathans?”
“Yeah.” He rubbed a deliciously fragrant seasoning onto the steaks and moved to the sink. Using his elbow to raise the faucet’s handle, he squirted soap into his palm. “Not sure I’ve ever come up against a bigger brute than that sonofabitch, though. Not too proud to say I hope I never do again.”
Having firsthand knowledge of the ugly beasts, she knew precisely what Max had been forced to contend with. The idea that he’d been able to defeat the creature boggled her brain. Granted, he was a huge guy, and generously ripped with a plethora of yummy muscles, but it was hard to believe a small army could take on a leviathan, much less one man.
Then again, Max wasn’t exactly a man. Reminded of that important fact, she looked him over. “I was meaning to ask you something earlier.”
“Hmm?” His expression partly distracted, he shut off the faucet.
“What kind of shifter are you?”
For some strange reason, he grimaced. “Damn, I was hoping you wouldn’t ask.”
“Why?”
“My species has a bad rap.” He coughed before scraping his palm along his jaw. “Some tend to hold that against me.”
“I wouldn’t.”
“Don’t be so sure.”