Leah

The next morning, Leah was on the cranky side after Drew's unexpected hands-off goodnight and was yet again staring down the coffee machine when her cell buzzed. However, unlike yesterday, she wasn't alone and Drew was dressed—too bad.

He paused mid-bite in his inhaling of a mountain of bacon surrounded by a valley of scrambled eggs. "Is that your contact?"

"Yeah." She tapped the answer button and set the phone down in the middle of the kitchen table, then sat down next to Drew, trying to ignore her body's instant awareness of him as he scooted his chair closer to hers. "Hey, Lexie, what did you find out?"

"Ugh," Lexie groaned. "Am I on speaker? I fucking hate being on speaker."

"Sorry," Drew said. "That's because of me."

"Oh, I like that voice," Lexie said. "Is this Mr. Big Dick?"

Leah almost spewed her first sip of coffee everywhere.

"Yeah," Drew said, glancing up at Leah and giving her a sexy smirk. "That's me."

Cheeks burning at Lexie's usual lack of filter, Leah got the conversation back to where it was supposed to be. “So, what can you tell us about Wynn and Miller?”

Drew's raised eyebrow let her know that he was probably going to bring the whole big dick thing up again. Of course. Because this is how her life worked in Catfish Creek, home to all of her top ten most embarrassing moments.

"Both are more muscle than brain," Lexie said at a fast clip, no doubt used to giving these types of bad guy briefings to the other B-Squad agents. "If I was going after a fifteen-carat diamond, I sure as shit wouldn't be leaving them unsupervised—especially not if the person I was selling to was half as pissed as it seems Mr. Moneybags is."

Drew's head jerked up.

"Rewind, Lexie," Leah said.

"Okay, Wynn and Miller work for Warren Law, nice irony, right? Officially, he's in the import/export business but instead of cocaine along with his shipment of antiques, he dabbles in hot jewels. He's as dirty as a Jeep after you've taken it mudding but he's non-violent—not even a whisper of him using the muscle twins for anything other than general intimidation, which is probably why they haven't jumped you already. Law has a reputation for patience. Too bad he's under the gun this time. Warren had a buyer all lined up for the diamond, a buyer who doesn't take no for an answer and likes to outfit people in cement shoes. So poor Warren has to get that diamond or go to Mr. Bent Nose and explain why he doesn't, which—in all likelihood—will end very, very badly for him."

"How do you know this?" Skeptical didn't even begin to describe the cynical look on Drew's face. "The FBI isn't even sure who Miller and Wynn work for."

Lexie's snort came through loud and clear over the line. "I've got skills the Feds wish they had."

"And a tendency to hack her way into places she's not supposed to be," Leah added.

"Yeah, well, if those guys would share information a little better their lives would go so much more smoothly," Lexie retorted.

Drew shook his head. "That's never going to happen."

The import/export was a great cover for a jewel thief. In a weird way, Leah couldn't help but kind of admire the guy for putting such a solid front in place that even the FBI hadn't figured it out. All they had to do was figure out a way to get to him and get him on the record admitting to the diamond theft. After that, the FBI would step in, arrest him, and she'd be free and clear.

"So your thinking is that Law is here in Catfish Creek?" Leah asked.

"I'd bet my miniature hand-blown glass feline collection on it."

That was as good as a guarantee. "Have any goodies to share?"

"Always," Lexie said. "Pics and a down and dirty brief is already in your inbox."

"Thanks, Lexie."

"Catch you next time you're in Fort Worth," she said. "I want all the details about Mr. Big Dick with a good voice."

Drew's eyebrow arched. "I have a name, you know."

"And a hot official photo too, Sheriff Drew Jackson," Lexie said with a laugh.

"Never get a job in the real world, Lexie." Leah shook her head, wondering not for the first time how Lexie—a legitimate Texas heiress and all around quirk fest—had ever ended up at B-Squad Investigations and Security. "You'd be fired in a heartbeat."

"Probably. Toodles, kids."

After Lexie hung up, she and Drew sat and drank their coffee in silence for a few minutes. Leah assumed he was working his way around to the same solution to Law as she had. She was wrong.

"You spend a lot of time in Fort Worth?" he asked, pushing the last remains of his breakfast around his plate with his fork.

"My mom's there with my stepfather. My brother's there with his fiancée. I go back every two or three months."

"Ever think of moving back down?"

A short bark of a laugh escaped. "Not unless Texas gets a political makeover and pot becomes legal. Believe it or not, I like what I do. I like the people. I like the challenge of running a business. I like that I made a move into a kind of business that a lot of people who got their business master’s at the same time as I did wouldn't touch with a twenty-foot pole—not that they aren't regretting it now."

"So why not apply those skills to another kind of business?" he asked, snagging her cup of coffee and stealing a drink.

Letting the question soak in for a minute, she tried to find some of the nose-in-the-air judgment he'd used before when asking about her business, but it wasn't there. It was like he was just...curious. The realization did something to her insides, filling her with a soft warmness she wasn't used to and didn't know how to process. So she did what she always did in that situation and made herself harder.

"Because I like selling pot." She jerked her chin higher and straightened her spine, not letting herself drop eye contact. "It's not just the hipsters who want to get high. It's a legal product that a lot of people enjoy. It's also a Godsend for folks with glaucoma, cancer and other illnesses. Plus, it's fun as hell to show up to work in my Doc Martens and T-shirt and scare the shit out of the uptight suits who stop in on a regular basis and try to buy me out."

"You always did love standing up to the man," he said before finishing off her coffee.

She snagged her now empty cup from him, her fingers tingling at the contact and her nerves more than a bit jangly at this new side to Drew, and walked over to the coffee maker to start another cup. "Talk like that makes you sound like a Baby Boomer burn out."

"I'm an old soul."

"Nah, just one who thinks there's only one path and is going to shoehorn himself onto it no matter what," she said as she turned and watched his jaw tense. Shit. The snark had just popped out. Drew was wrong, she didn't just run when cornered, she built defenses out of brick-sized attitude mortared together with bitchiness. That needed to change. If being here in Catfish Creek had taught her anything so far it was that she really needed to let all the old shit go—including the hurt that had festered since that summer with Drew. "Sorry, it's not my place to say anything."

"If you didn't, no one else would," he said, his shoulders tense. Then, he got up and cleared his spot, loading the dishes into the dishwasher in silence. After clicking it closed, he leaned one hip against the counter and watched her as she drank her coffee. "So we can't let Law get the diamond."

"Agreed," she said, relieved to be back on familiar ground.

"But that doesn't mean he shouldn't think he is."

She couldn't help her grin because she just knew this was gonna be good. "Go on."

"We set up an exchange, but we'll only give it to Law."

Oh yeah, she liked it. "Because it's the only way to guarantee Wynn and Miller won't hightail it to the buyer themselves and leave us vulnerable to Law's retribution."

"Exactly." He nodded.

"I like it." She looked up at him, a new appreciation for him softening her defenses. "You've got kind of a devious mind."

"Nothing of the sort. I just believe the shortest distance between two points is a straight line."

"That and a pair of handcuffs," she teased.

His gaze dropped to her mouth. "They never hurt."

Anticipation made her heart beat faster as he took a step closer, almost within touching distance. His focus never left her mouth. Sparks turned the air around them electric. She forgot to breathe, forgot to blink, forgot everything but Drew. Every nerve in her body buzzed with expectation. He was going to kiss her. She wanted it. God, did she want it. Her mouth parted as her body ignored the SOS her brain was sending out. She'd regret whatever was coming next after this was over, when her life was back to normal and she was back home in Denver. This sort of craziness was just part of life in Catfish Creek. His head dipped lower. She tilted her face up.

And then, nothing.

Muttering something that sounded a lot like "fuck me" under his breath, he stepped back and rubbed the back of his neck with his hand.

Her breath came back into her lungs in a whoosh, along with confusion, frustration, and annoyance. He wanted her. It was obvious. The other night had proved that beyond a reasonable doubt. Yet, last night he sent her to bed alone without a second glance and now he denied their attraction again.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked, unable to keep the rawness from her voice. “Why are you helping me?”

He turned away from her and looked out the window above his sink, his profile as hard as the countertop he was white knuckling. "Because I catch bad guys, that's what I do."

It's not what she'd been asking and they both knew it. "And that's it?"

She hated how fucking hopeful she sounded, like she'd come back to Catfish Creek and was once again that insecure girl from high school who hid behind her bad girl persona.

His jaw muscles flexed, but he didn't turn toward her. "There can't be anything else."

And she was still enough of the girl she'd been to wish like hell there could be. So before she could say anything that would even remotely hint at that, she turned and marched out of the kitchen, her chin high, knowing the bad girl sway of her hips would be reflected in the window so Drew couldn't miss what he was walking away from—again.

* * *

Drew

Dealing with the FBI was close to the top of Drew's do-not-want list, but there wasn't a way around it. Agents Curtis and Ritter were in his office wearing matching dark suits and blank expressions. That didn't bode well for what was about to happen next considering he and Leah had just finished tag teaming the explanation of their plan.

After a solid ten seconds of silence, Leah looked at him and shrugged before turning back to the agents. "And that's the plan, so speak now or forever hold your peace."

"No," Ritter said.

Yep. That was about the reaction Drew had been expecting. For the Feds, there was no good idea unless it was their idea.

"Excuse me?" Leah asked, fire sparking in her eyes.

That was his girl, always fixin' for a fight.

Curtis seemed unimpressed. "We don't know where you got this information from."

"A confidential source," Drew answered, the less details the Feds knew, the better.

"Someone here in Catfish Creek knows the inner workings of one of the world's most wanted jewel theft rings?" Curtis didn't bother to keep his skepticism below the surface.

Drew put a hand on Leah's thigh before she could say whatever scathing thought was formulating in her head and gave her a soft squeeze to warn her not to push too far. "We never said he or she was local."

"I don't like it," Ritter said.

Leah rolled her eyes. "You don't have to, you just have to stay out of the way."

So much for sending her subtle signals.

"That's not how the federal government operates," Curtis deadpanned.

"And don't I know it," Leah said with a sigh.

Both agents narrowed their eyes. Knowing just how effectively Leah could burrow under a man's skin and make him nuts, Drew squeezed her leg again—harder this time.

"You're not helping," he said half under his breath.

Leah shot him a glare. "I'm not trying."

Of course not. That's not how Leah worked, she was all bad girl attitude, devious brain and sass. He loved that about her. Nothing about her was easy. A man had to work to make it past her defense—and he was determined to do that.

"Here's the deal," he said, turning to face the agents, giving them the look he usually reserved for subordinates who were slow to understand the way things were going to work from now on. “We—really, she—found out more in twenty-four hours than the however long it's been that you've been working this case. We're doing this. You're either coming along for the ride and the collar or you're sitting on the sidelines when I bring Law tied up with a bow to your boss."

It wasn't just the career boosting that came along with credit for a collar that cops—no matter their affiliation—wanted to take the bad guys off the street. It was in their cop DNA. That didn't make letting someone else take the credit any easier because egos were alive and well in anyone who had the power to throw someone in jail, but unless he'd pegged the agents wrong, they'd take the deal.

"Fine," Ritter said, his tone gruff. "We go with your plan but if the whole thing blows up in your face we won't be held responsible."

Drew managed to keep his self-satisfied smile under wraps. "Understood."

Two hours and one massive mission-planning session later and Drew and Leah walked into The Grange, the most likely spot to find Wynn and Miller, according to Lexie's briefing report that detailed the men's habits. Really, the woman was something else, weird cat obsession aside, because there were Wynn and Miller, sitting at a table in the back. Judging by the harried, I'm-about-to-stick-a-knife-through-your-eye look on the waitress's face, they'd been there for some time and had not been the most pleasant of customers.

Following the plan they'd come up with, he intertwined his fingers with Leah's and they walked together across the bar, past the dance floor, and to the men in their matching pale blue Western shirts with pearl buttons so new they still had the folding lines from the store.

Leah gave the duo a slow up and down before shaking her head. "Some people shouldn't be allowed to dress themselves."

"You don't have to fight it, darling, I know I look good," Wynn said, his bright red hair slicked back and held in place with a pound of hair gel.

Stepping in before Leah could tell Miller and Wynn what she really thought of their outfits, Drew cleared his throat, drawing everyone's attention to him. "We want a meet with your boss."

Miller slunk back down in his seat, his gaze twitching left before jerking back to Drew.

"What boss?" he asked.

"The one who keeps you in tacky shirts and cheap belt buckles," Leah said.

"Girlie," Wynn sprung from his seat with more grace than a bulky guy his size usually had and loomed over Leah, "you need someone to teach you better manners."

Drew didn't think. He just reacted, grabbing the man by the shirt and shoving him back against the wall. Half a heartbeat later his forearm was pressed up against the guy's throat hard enough to make Wynn's eyes a little watery. Using his peripheral vision to keep watch on Miller, who was glued to his seat with his palms up in surrender, Drew leaned in and got right in Wynn's face.

"Let's not lose focus, asswipe, because you're too dumb to realize that that lady is the only person keeping your head attached to your neck. Your boss. A meeting. Set it up. Now."

He tossed the sputtering Wynn back into his seat.

"Fine, dang, man," the redhead said as he took out his phone and started texting. "There's no need to go all Training Day on me."

He and Leah stood, hip to hip, while they all waited for a return text from Law. There was no way he was giving up the high ground advantage to these two dipshits. They might not have a record for violence and so far they didn't seem to have any skill that didn't involve grunting in the gym, but that didn't mean he was going to let down his guard. Not with Leah here. So the four of them just stayed there, giving each other stink eye, until Wynn's phone finally buzzed with a response.

Wynn picked it up and read the message with more speed than Drew would have given him credit for.

"He wants to know why," Wynn said.

"Tell Law that we'll only hand over the diamond to him," Drew said, sticking to the plan and playing the heavy. "We don't trust you two to carry out your end of things."

Miller made a soft squeak of protest. "That's just shitty."

"Tell him," Leah said as she jabbed a finger into the back of Wynn's shoulder blade.

The redhead shot Leah a dirty look but put his oversized thumbs to work. Again, they waited. This time the answer came back almost immediately.

"Noon tomorrow," Wynn said. "The closed up gas station at the corner of First and McMurray. Just you two."

"Great," Drew said, taking a step back from the table, making sure Leah did the same. He didn't want her within arm's reach of these two if they decided to change their M.O.s. "You can go."

"We were sitting here having a beer," Miller muttered.

"You were annoying your waitress," Drew said, jerking his chin toward the waitress who was watching the goings on from the safety of the bar. "Get moving before I find an excuse to knock your heads together."

Wynn and Miller grumbled like old men kicked out of the Bingo parlor for spitting tobacco on the floor. Drew didn't relax until they cleared the door. Curtis and Ritter would take over surveillance of Law's muscle after that, in hopes they went straight to him. If it worked out that way, great. If it didn't, they were ready for what came next. Now there was nothing to do but wait. And stare at Leah. And think all sorts of porn-worthy ideas for them to bide the time until the meet.

His cock twitched and started to thicken against his thigh at the mental image. Fuck. This is exactly what he'd told himself he wasn't going to do. Still, his hand was in the air as he signaled to the waitress for two beers. A minute later two ice-cold bottles of Bud were on the table.

"You off the clock?" Leah asked as she lifted the bottle to her red lips and took a long swallow.

"We're celebrating." Yeah, that almost sounded reasonable.

"You didn't answer. I know you're not in uniform because of the Rhinestone Cowboys, but you haven't been since I rolled into town."

He glanced down at his daily staple of white T-shirt and jeans. "For all intents and purposes I'm off the clock as sheriff permanently."

"You quit?"

"I was acting sheriff after Sheriff Finnigan had a heart attack, but I lost the election to take it on full time."

It had been the best and worst day of his life all rolled into one. The truth was he needed to get out of Catfish Creek. His mom had enough sobriety under her belt to not need him watching over her. Scratch that. What she really needed was to have the confidence to watch out for herself and kick his cheating ass father to the curb.

Leah's already big eyes went buggy. "Who wouldn't vote for you?"

He laughed and took a sip of cold beer. "All the folks pissed that I wouldn't let little Jimmy and perfect Paula get away with underage drinking, routine violations and other bullshit."

"Didn't they realize they were appointing Mr. Law and Order?"

The way she said it made it seem like he should be wearing a cape and a mask. The image made him crack a smile despite the shitty reality of the situation. "I guess they thought those rules only applied to some folks."

"Wow," she said with a chuckle. "You must have made them nuts."

Now that was the understatement of the year. "Yep."

"So what now?"

He glanced around the bar, taking in the handful of customers eating chicken tenders and downing a quick beer after a long day at work. Nothing out of the ordinary—and maybe that was part of the problem for him. The job with the Fort Worth Police Department seemed ideal, but was that just him falling into another familiar cycle? For a man who never thought much about the big picture of his life, he couldn't help but realize over the last few days that he was in one helluva rut. One that he probably wouldn't have realized if not for the tornado of trouble that was the woman sitting across from him.

And he couldn't have her. Not for real. And that was beginning to be a spiky bur under his saddle so he did what any good kid who'd grown up with a functioning alcoholic parent would do. He deflected. "We enjoy the win while we can."

Leah took a sip of her beer. "Doesn't sound like you've had a lot of those."

"Not as many as I thought I'd have when I graduated high school." Shit. When he'd graduated a few years before Leah and his sister, he had thought the world would be his within five years. He'd been wrong, so very wrong. "The truth is, life doesn't always turn out the way we expect it and it sure doesn't give you any do-overs."

She smacked her bottle on the table, sending foam over the lip and nailed him to his seat with a challenging look. "So you force it to."

"Wow." He laughed. "You almost sound like a woman who doesn't have a Texas-sized chip on her shoulder."

"I don't," she said a little too fast for either of them to be fooled.

"Really?" He took a drink of beer, watching her over the rim. "Then why'd you come back to the reunion? The truth."

He didn't expect her to answer, but once again she did the last thing he'd figured. She straightened her shoulders and gave him what sounded an awful lot like the truth.

"To show them I wasn't the woman they all thought. That there was more to me than just trouble."

How many high school expectations were they both still running from all these years later? He was the responsible one who'd never take a chance, the one voted most likely to uphold law and order. Leah? She was the bad girl with a devious, quick brain she'd probably never use for good. It was past time both of them got over that. You could go home again, but there was no reason why they had to be those people they had been just because they were once again where it all had started.

Fuck this. He was breaking out of his rut.

"Come on." He stood up and jerked his chin toward the empty pool room. "Why don't you try to kick my ass in pool?"

"Try?" She stood up, all sexy confidence and determination.

He smirked. "I'm feeling lucky."

She rolled her eyes and turned, leading the way to the pool room. His gaze went to her perfect, swaying ass like a magnet. Damn. It almost hurt to look at her. It definitely was awkward to walk after looking at her. Looked like he was going to have to get off the hamster wheel of his life and do something about that and, maybe, see what other possibilities awaited.

* * *

Leah

Leah didn't need to bend at the waist and lean quite so far across the pool table to make the shot. She did anyway. Getting a good look at the solid red ball as it dropped into the corner pocket wasn't why. It was because she could feel Drew's hot gaze on her as sure as a branding iron. They made a good team and it was nice to see that wasn't only the case in the bedroom—although that's where every single one of her thoughts was ending up.

"So you came back home and Jess stayed out in Hollywood?" she asked, following up on their getting-caught-up conversation.

"There was more to it than that, but yeah." For once his gaze was on the pool table and not her ass or her boobs as she leaned over the green felt.

Someone was keeping things to himself. Was Drew Jackson keeping a deep dark secret or was it something as simple and devastating as remorse?

"Do you ever regret it?" she asked, almost completely meaning his decision to come back to Catfish Creek but she'd be lying to herself if she said that was all of it.

He took a slow sip of the single beer he'd been nursing, his focus still on the pool table. "Yeah, but I can't change the past." He refocused his attention on her, sending a delicious shiver down her spine. "What about you? Ever regret moving up to Denver?"

She gave half a second to the idea of living anywhere else but Denver before sending up a quick thank you that she didn't have to worry about ever moving back to Texas. "Nah. I love it up there. It gets crazy cold, sure, but the people are great. I love being near the mountains after the total flatness of Catfish Creek."

He made his shot, sending the cue ball flying across the table into the trio of striped balls. "So what, it's just you and Gray?"

"Believe it or not, I can make friends, but yeah, we hang out." She came around to his side of the table, nudging him out of her way with her hip, relishing the spark of attraction that led straight to her clit.

"Anything serious?" he asked, a rough edge to the question.

Pulling back from taking her shot, she turned to face him. With one hand on her hip and the other wrapped around the pool stick, she gave him a slow up and down while awareness crackled between them. "Why, Drew Jackson, are you asking me if I'm fucking my best friend?"

"Yeah." He nodded, lust turning his eyes dark. "I am."

Straight and to the point. She'd always appreciated that about him—among other things.

"No." She shook her head, her lungs suddenly unable to take a decent breath. Maybe it was because her bra had mysteriously become too small. Or because you're flirting with fire, Leah girl. "It's never been like that for us."

Someone must have put money in the jukebox stationed between the dance floor and the pool tables, because an old school country song came on. It wasn't one of the slow ones or one where someone had been done wrong by everyone but their dog. It was a sing-along drinking song, the kind that included a repeated chorus and sly lyrics that had always made her giggle. This time wasn't any different. Without thinking about it, she laid down her cue on the pool table and started dancing as she sang along.

Drew watched for a few beats before wrapping an arm around her waist and swaying to the music with her as they both sang along. Heat pooled between her legs as her breasts brushed against his chest, his fingers drifted lower on her ass, and that magic something between them took ahold of both of them. Before she knew it, he'd maneuvered them so that her back was against the wall in the one blind corner of the bar by the storage door. No one could see them here.

"I'm glad," he said, his lust-hooded gaze dropping to her mouth. He took another small step forward and pulled her hard against him, his hand now cupping her ass completely

Her pulse sped up and her panties all but went up in flames. "About what?"

A new song came on the jukebox. This one was about the boy who'd gotten away. She refused to read too much into that and instead gave in to the way Drew made her feel when he wasn't breaking her heart.

"You and Gray. I'd hate to have to pound his face in." With one of his legs planted firmly between hers so she couldn't help but grind against his thigh, he moved to the song's slow but relentless beat.

"Are you jealous?" she asked, going for light, but ending up more breathy than anything else.

She was about to tease him with another snarky remark but the dark, brooding look in his eyes made her breath catch. This wasn't a dance anymore. It wasn't a teasing encounter. This was more. What exactly that was she had no frickin' clue but it couldn't be worse than last time he'd made her feel like this. She wouldn't let it. A man could only break her heart so many times before she learned her lesson.

"A little," he admitted grudgingly.

She cocked a brow and glanced up at him—well, as up as she could considering a ray of sunlight would have a hard time getting between them at the moment.

"Okay," he said, his voice rough. "A lot."

His mouth crashed down on hers, hard and demanding. That little admission had cost him and now he wanted to be paid back for it. That was okay. She liked the way he expected his debts to be paid. God, she was desperate for him to touch her but his hands stayed locked on her ass as he rocked her against his thigh. Opening under the weight of his kiss, she relished the way his tongue swept inside, taking her higher. This. This is what she ached for. Not just the touch. But the man. Drew. It was almost too much to process. Heat and desire and need built up like an electric ball in her core, throbbing and growing with every move. Then, he glided his lips down the sensitive column of her throat.

"Jesus, Drew," she panted, half surprised she could even form words. "You're killing me."

"What's wrong, Sweets." He nipped at the spot where her neck met her shoulder. "Do you need some relief?"

"Yes." The sooner she could get him somewhere private and rip his clothes off, the better. "Let's get out of here."

"Don't worry," he said, one hand slipping between them and going straight to the button of her jeans. "I'll give you what you want, but it has to be here."

That's not good.

He popped the button open.

She stilled—her body so tuned into him that she almost missed the sound of people and beer bottles clinking in the main bar area.

"Someone could come in," she said, logic fighting through the haze of lust making her entire body buzz with anticipation.

"Yep, it's after work." He nodded and tugged down her zipper. "The town is filtering in so you'd better hurry because we're not moving away from this wall until you come."

Not here. She tried to form the words, but nothing came out. He slid his fingers underneath the elastic waist of her lace panties and brushed against the swollen tip of her clit. Oh. My. God. Forget everything else. Yes.

"Oh, you are so soft and wet for me," he said, moving his fingers in a tight circle around her sensitive nub, the friction of her jeans against her plump, slick folds only intensifying the sensation. "Does this mean I should dance with you more often or are you always like this for me?"

She arched into his hand, her answer more of a breathy moan than anything else, "Always."

"Fuck. I love that."

His fingers moved faster as the heel of his palm pressed against the spot right above her pelvic bone, intensifying every sensation zinging through her. Her body tightened as she climbed higher and higher toward that moment of bliss.

Her head fell back against the wall, her eyes squeezed shut as the pressure mounted. "I'm so close."

"That's good, Sweets," he whispered in her ear. "The pool league meets here every Wednesday night. They'll be here any minute." His fingers went into overdrive against her clit. "Oh hell, Sweets, you just got more wet. You like the idea of maybe getting caught, don't you? Well, you're gonna get caught if you don't come all over my fingers right now."

His touch combined with the threat of discovery sent her over the edge and she came hard, biting her bottom lip to keep from calling out. Chest heaving, she tried not to melt into a puddle on the floor of The Grange's pool room. She didn't even have the wherewithal to get annoyed at Drew's knowing chuckle as he zipped and buttoned her pants for her. Cracking her eyes open, she watched as he sucked her juices off his fingers.

"Damn, you're sweet," he said with a wink.

Those three words were all it took to get her from zero to one hundred in a heartbeat. "Let's get out of here."

Nodding at the pool league regulars filtering in, they made it out of The Grange and into Drew's truck in record time. They were almost to his house when his phone rang.

"Yeah?" He listened for a minute, the vein in his temple pulsing faster and faster with each passing second. "I'll take care of it." Finally, he ended the call and turned into his driveway. "I have to go take care of something. Curtis has been tailing us from the bar. I'll let him know to stay here with you. Don't open the door to anyone but him or me and don't you dare go anywhere until I get back."

"Why," she asked, reaching across the bench seat to run her hands up the inside of his thigh and over the hard outline of his cock. "Would you spank me?"

He clamped his hand over hers and curled her fingers around as much of his dick as the position allowed. "Sweets, I'm gonna do that anyway."

Forget her panties. Her jeans were soaked now too. "I thought you were off duty."

"The mayor's war against his neighbor's cat is a different story," he said, shaking his hand.

"That is so Catfish Creek."

"No kidding."

With a final squeeze of his cock and a hot kiss that curled her toes, Drew walked her inside the house, did a quick walk through to make sure no one was there, insisted she lock the door behind him, and then headed out to fight the cat scoundrels of Catfish Creek. Watching him drive away gave her a sense of deja vu of that summer, but this time was different. This time he wasn't leaving for Fort Worth without even a goodbye. This time he was coming back, which meant more to her than she wanted to admit to herself.