Once Upon A Half-Time: A Sports Romance - Sosie Frost Page 0,225

mess. His arms tightened, and I stared at his perfect lips, thin and pulled against a hard jaw and harder chin. He was close enough to kiss, just a brush or a nibble. His touch could deliver me from the insanity and back to the only part of my life that made sense.

Loving him.

“We have a lot of work to do,” I said, softly.

“Nothing is going to happen to you, Sweets.” His promise burned me, just as I knew it seared through him and the scars he earned saving my life. “I won’t let anything hurt you.”

“What if you hurt me?”

“Never.”

“Are you so sure?”

He didn’t give me warning. He captured my lips, stealing my kiss and seizing everything I offered. A timid mew. Trembling hands. His tongue hungered for mine, searching for what I kept hidden—a vow I hadn’t yet uttered.

His touch wasn’t just familiar, it was right. Better than the dash of hazelnut in my coffee or the caramel drizzle over a brownie. His single kiss forced him back into my life, my world. For a year, I struggled with an imaginary Maddox, someone I could summon and dismiss and control in my own fantasies at night when the loneliness took hold. But the real Maddox wasn’t tame or quiet, and that was why I needed to free myself from him.

It was too hard to push him away. I shuddered as the heat pulsed from my core. I was ready for him with only a kiss. Hell, who was I kidding? I always wanted him.

But I couldn’t risk his life just to pretend we’d have a perfect future.

I pulled from his arms. My lips hummed, swollen from his kiss. I used to feel that way all over when I was with him. Now I only felt hollow, and I hated it. Hated this.

“Let’s go.” I hid inside my coat and aimed for the door, without looking back, without getting caught in the intense, roiling fire of his eyes. “But you aren’t coming inside the station with me.”

“You aren’t doing this alone.”

“It’s Saint Christie, what could happen?”

He didn’t wait for me, shoving his hands in his pocket. “I’ve been asking myself that for a year. Just hope we don’t learn it the hard way. I’d rather not bleed today.”

Cheerful. I forgot how much of a morning person Maddox was.

I closed the door, but he didn’t let me walk away.

“Lock it.”

My stomach dropped. I hated that he was right. Even if no one else was dangerous in the town, I knew that Nolan was responsible for the fire. Who knew what he planned? The mayor and hopeful state representative already burned my business to the ground, lusted after me, and framed my ex-boyfriend for the crime. This wasn’t Granddad and Nana’s Saint Christie anymore.

Then again, most of Saint Christie would agree Maddox was the reason for the locked doors and security systems.

He walked at my side, but it only served as a deterrent for other residents. Mr. Wilkens and his morning jog detoured through the park, slippery with dew. He landed on his behind twice, but at least he didn’t have to face Maddox, even if Mr. Wilkens had yet to pay him the two hundred dollars owed for work he did before he went to jail.

Usually, I couldn’t make it into town without half of Saint Christie wishing me a good morning and begging for a cookie order. Now? No one looked up. It broke my heart. How was any man supposed to change his ways if no one would grant him the courtesy of a hello?

Cripes, even Mrs. Greentree took an ill-conceived detour with Millie, leading her beyond her usual territory and right into Benjamin Ducacas and Jean-Baptise.

And then the fur started to fly.

Millie growled, lunged, and yipped at the poodle, snipping at his prize-winning leg. Mrs. Greentree pulled on the leash, panicking as Benjamin tripped over Millie and lost a shoe to a mud-puddle.

Curses were exchanged.

Names were called.

Breeders insulted.

We stopped outside the police station to watch the ruckus. That’s when Mrs. Greentree informed all who watched the confrontation of Benjamin’s wife and her relapse with the bottle. Benjamin shouted back, insinuating the shih tzu was half an inch too short for the standard breed and that she added a disqualifying bow to the dog to trick the judges.

Suddenly, the dogs weren’t the only ones fighting.

“Holy shit.” Maddox snickered. “Someone call the national guard.”

The leashes tangled, and frail Mr. Yocum parked his truck in the middle of Main Street