When I walk into the break room at the Sheriff’s Station, I receive the first shit-slinging of the day from my coworkers.

“Now, Jesse.” Olive Whitefeather puts down her loud video game-spewing phone and pushes her thick, trendy glasses up her nose. She pushes her dark curls behind her ears and surveys all the bags I’m carrying from the Burger Bomb. “When you drew the short straw to get lunch, I was hoping for some Milton’s grub.”

At her deadpan joke — because, hardee-har-har, it is a joke — everyone gives a donkey-ass bray. I respond like I always do by laughing along. She isn’t talking about Milton’s, really, and all the knuckleheads in here realize it. Everyone knows damned well I haven’t gone to the diner in a while because there comes a time when a man has to admit to a lost cause.

And that cause is Grace Milton.

Our new deputy, Brent Vanderpatten, slips his sunglasses into the front pocket of his khaki deputy’s shirt. “Hey, Herrera — weren’t you dancing at the Hamilton wedding with Grace Milton only two weeks ago? I thought that might’ve opened a door for you to start hounding her again.”

I save a special smile for Vanderpatten. He might be new, but he’s very familiar with Cherry Valley, seeing as he returned to it recently and joined the force only a few days ago. “Sounds like you read about the wedding on Abby Peters’ ABCs of Love blog. I thought only tween girls were fans of that gossipy hearts-and-flowers stuff.”

He chuckles. “A good law enforcement officer keeps up with everything about this town, deputy. But I hear Abby was kind enough not to give us the full report about how you struck out with Grace. Again.”

Next to Vanderpatten, Ariel Stiles, the only female deputy on the force, pushes back her baseball cap and laughs it up, too. “Should we tell Tall, Dark, and Latino here where we went for our lunch today and who waited on us? Or would that be rubbing salt in the loverboy’s wound?”

They’re really pushing it today. Luckily, I’ve got a sense of humor. Really, I do, and I’ll be damned if I’m not going to keep it.

I fucking laugh again.

Vanderpatten loosely leans back against the wall. “Gee, Stiles, I didn’t think of telling Jesse about our trip to Milton’s. Or about how Gracie Milton flirted with me as a sort of Country Doll Welcoming Committee. Do you think I should mention it now?”

Boy, my loco is really going into motion. Although Vanderpatten’s new, he’s been the bane of my existence for years. In high school, we played football, basketball, and baseball together. He was always second-string to my first, backup to my starter, and girls always thought he was a handsome bastard because of his blond-hair-and-light-blue-eyed looks. He’s part of the Vanderpatten Dutch-boy dairy-farming clan, and he left CV after high school to go to the University of Miami. Afterward, he stuck around to surf, get into law enforcement, and shack up with a girlfriend until that didn’t work out. Now that he’s back, is he trying to angle for Grace?

Screw it. I couldn’t care less about what she does. Or with who.

As I sit down and nonchalantly recline in my chair, I remind myself there’re too many women out there, and I’ve got no need to dwell on someone who clearly wants nothing to do with me. My doomed crush on her has been around for a while, ever since high school when I was a cock-of-the-walk sophomore who had puppy-dog eyes for Grace Milton — a popular senior who always had guys at her beck and call. And my crush never died, even after I went off to college on a full-ride football scholarship to New York. After a year in a city that I truly hated, I ended up coming back to Cherry Valley, but maybe that mostly had to do with how much this town runs in my blood or how much I missed my family … or how I wanted to see if growing up a little would allow me to catch Grace’s eye. And, what do you know? Last fall, I finally did catch it.

Then, somehow, everything fell apart on one fucking night when nothing seemed to go right between us.

But, after an avalanche of her post-coital snubs, I’m done. I’m not wasting my time anymore on a woman who thinks she’s God’s gift to men.

I proceed to ignore Vanderpatten as he stands there, still debating with himself about rubbing salt in my non-existent Grace wound. Then I dive into the bag of hamburgers and fries, already forgetting about her.

As Olive takes two burgers and the king’s portion of fries, Ariel comes over and smacks her hand.

“Hey!” Olive says.

“You eat like an ogre,” Ariel says.

Olive tilts her head, sending her dream catcher earrings into motion. “If you already ate lunch, why’re you so territorial about the food?”

Ariel exhales, blowing away a strand of short platinum blonde hair from her brown eyes. “Because you need to save some for the sheriff when he gets back in.”

Olive makes smooching sounds before she bites into a burger and talks around it. “Stiles, you kiss Sheriff Keane’s ass so much, it’s a wonder you’re not attached to it. Have you ever seen The Human Centipede?”

Unfortunately, I have, and I nearly choke on my food. Judging by Ariel’s disgusted face and her rapid retreat, she has, too. Olive merely chuckles and keeps eating while Vanderpatten continues to brood in his quiet, manly place near the wall.

Honestly, we all like each other. On occasion. We even work well together and faithfully have each other’s backs. But clearly not today.

Vanderpatten does his part to ratchet up this lovefest by giving me a long, competitive look.

I give him my Peace Grin, which works for everything from defusing spats at the Footloose Saloon to dealing with the little fools from high school who drag race on the country roads. Not that I should be judgmental about that sort of hell-raising since I was pretty good at it myself, back in the day.

Vanderpatten coolly leaves the room, and the women laugh.

“He just seethes with the need to compete with you, Herrera.” Ariel hooks her thumbs in her utility belt, which seems so big on her small yet sturdy frame. “God, what I would’ve given to have you both at the wedding a couple weeks ago. You and Vanderpatten could’ve had a dance off for Grace’s affections.”

I shrug and crumple up my empty burger wrapper. “I did enough dancing there without Grace.” And the only reason I asked her to dance in the first place was because I was trying to be nice to her. But her blow-off was the last straw.

Ariel opens the door so she can return to duty. “I will say this — you finally learned. It took you long enough to see that Gracie Milton isn’t the settling-down type.”

As she leaves, Olive stands up with her hands full of food. She gives me a dry glance. “Don’t listen to her. I think Gracie is going to settle down someday. I think I read on the Internet that a vagina can take only so much action.”

My fingernails press into my palms. “Don’t say that about her, Olive.”

“Sorry. I thought you might feel the same way. I have no idea why you’d still be interested after all the cold shoulders.”

“I’m not interested anymore.”

“Good, because wasn’t there some kind of rumor about a disastrous date between the two of you at some point? Why would you want more of that?”

“I never heard any rumor.” I send her a confident smile, as if no woman has ever walked away disappointed from me. Actually, that’s pretty much true except for Grace. Maybe she told her closest friends about our night together, but the full story never really got around town. All Cherry Valley at large knows is that Grace ditched me and I wasn’t giving up.

Olive looks thoughtful as she throws away her trash. She adjusts her Clark Kent glasses and assesses me. Then, expressionless, she barges out the door, probably very eager to get back to the reception desk and the video games she’s constantly sneaking, even while directing calls.

Now that I’m alone, the room is too quiet, and my mind returns to Grace full force. Goddammit, how much fucking time will it take for me to stop going over that night in fine detail, wondering where it all went wrong?

It’d started out great — she danced with me at the saloon on the edge of town, and we laughed together until she leaned her head against my chest, sending my blood into hot overdrive. Everyone in town knows how Grace’s bastard father killed a man in a drunk driving accident, and, later, in high school, I started hearing about how Donnie Milton used to hit Grace’s mother as well as the girls. Maybe I’ve always had a protective thing going for Grace. I could be her hero … if she ever looked my way.

And, that night as we danced, she did look. She looked right up into my eyes with that playful blue gaze of hers and I knew, just knew, it’d be happening.

Things escalated fast as we rushed out of the Footloose to the far reaches of the parking lot, where I brought her to my sports car, intending to get her back to my apartment ASAP. But we never made it there. We got right to mauling each other, hot and bothered and crazed. I was so hungry for her, doing all the things to her that women usually like, things I’d only fantasized about with Grace, and even though the front seat of my car was cramped and we couldn’t seem to find any position that felt quite right, I did everything I could to please her.

But by the end, after we both sat there staring out the steamed-up windshield, still dressed, breathless and sweating, I could tell that Grace’s mind was somewhere else. She’d already distanced herself from me in a way that still wrenches my gut even now.

After that, she just refused to talk to me when I tried to charm her back into my graces for another try, because I knew that we’d gone too fast, too feverishly, and I hadn’t wanted it to go that way at all.

Still, that was all she wrote. It turns out I was only one of her boy toys.

This was where pining over her for years got me.

So, after trying with her one last time at the wedding, I decided enough is enough. And, no matter how much Brent Vanderpatten goads me, or how much the town chuckles whenever Grace and I are in the same vicinity and she runs off like a scared rabbit, I’m truly done.

By the time Sheriff Keane strolls into the break room, I’ve finished my fries. The man’s a tall, broad older guy with gray hair, dark skin, and a friendly smile, and when I gesture to the food that’s still waiting for him, he takes a seat.

“Lunch might’ve gotten a little cold,” I say.

“I’m still ravenous.” Before he slides into those burgers and fries, he hands me his phone. A picture of a hot rod stares back at me.

One look at it and I start to salivate. It’s a badass 1968 Pontiac Firebird Coupe in prime condition.

“My brother owns a used car lot in Marloe, and this baby just showed up,” he says. “I know how much you like a sleek machine, Jesse. I busted you enough times drag racing in high school.”

“I was never driving anything like this.” I’m tempted to ask the price. So tempted. But with a long sigh, I give the phone back to him. “But no can do.”

“My brother can get you a good deal.”

“I’m sure he can, but I’m saving my money, Jake.”

The sheriff gives me a serious look. “Well, well. You’re just full of surprises. First you shocked the hell of out of me when you came back to town with your mind set on joining the force. And ever since then, you grew into a responsible adult right before my eyes.” He laughs. “With only a mild streak of troublemaking intact, I might add.”

“Like I told my mom, everyone’s got to grow up.”

“You must be saving for something you really want.”

“Yup. I’m aiming for my own place in the mountains. Not so far up that the commute’s rough, but far enough so that it’s quiet and I’m surrounded by the woods.”

“And you continue to stun,” the sheriff says. “Who knew you were a hermit at heart?”

“I’m not so much a hermit.” I laugh. “I’m just a guy who likes his peace and quiet. I didn’t get any of that in the city during college, and that’s why I needed to get the hell out of New York. I think I might’ve even returned to Cherry Valley all those years ago to ultimately work as a deputy so I could preserve some P and Q for everyone.”

“Ah, peace and quiet.” The sheriff looks thoughtful as he picks up a burger, shrugs at how much it’s cooled off, and bites into it anyway. After chewing, he says, “With all the changes happening around CV, I don’t know how available Ps and Qs will be in the future — especially with the Cherry Festival coming up. But I like how you’re thinking. I had no idea that a crazy, good-old-boy, hot-rod desperado like you would ever turn out decently. I’ll bet your mamacita is ten kinds of relieved.”

I only nod as the sheriff continues to eat. There’re a lot of things I never expected to be when I grew up, and one of them is a man who wasted a hell of a lot of time chasing after a woman who doesn’t want him.

Luckily, that man is gone, and a new one is about to raise some dating hell around town as soon as he can.

Find out when Delicious is available (and pick up an exclusive Cherry Valley story!) by joining Clover’s mailing list. or go to .