The Alpha Claims A Mate (4 page)

“I
ain’t afraid of work. Not like anybody would hire an Arbuckle in this town for any job, anyway.” Cletus glanced at the sheriff, half fearful, half hopeful.

“Is that really what you said?” he asked him.

“Uhhh…of course. You aren’t saying my lovely assistant’s a liar, are you?” The sheriff was struggling to wipe the look of surprise off his face.

“No, sir, I
ain’t saying that.  If that’s what my sentence is, I guess I’ll have to do it. When do I start?” he couldn’t hide the eagerness in his voice.

“Tomorrow morning, nine a.m. sharp.”

“Oh, and lunch is provided free,” Ginger said, glancing at Cletus’s bony frame.

He looked at her suspiciously. “You’re not trying to give me no charity, are you?”

“No sir. Not at all,” she said, noting his look of surprise when she called him “sir.” “Everybody who’s working on the community garden gets lunch free. It’s standard.”

“All right then.” He nodded, then turned and jogged off down the road. Ginger waited until he was out of earshot before she turned to the sheriff.

“Okay. Let me have it,” she winced. Please, don’t eviscerate my Alpha, she thought desperately. I’m pretty sure my pack would ban me from not just the city but the state of New York.  Forever.

“Let you have what?” That amused grin was back, and Ginger found that, despite herself, a little shiver ran through her body and her nipples swelled into tight nubs. He was so annoyingly sexy when he smiled. “You’re a puzzle, Miss Ginger.  Maybe if I could figure out what you wanted, I could give it to you.” There was a teasing quality to his voice, and a twinkle in his golden-brown eyes as he said it. As if he were picturing what he’d love to give to her.

Or maybe that was just Ginger’s sex-starved imagination.

“Well….I thought you’d yell at me for what I did just now.”

“
Naah. You were surprisingly diplomatic about it.”

Ginger winced at the “surprisingly” part, but she’d earned it.

“And that was actually pretty damn smart of you,” Sheriff Armstrong continued.  “I should have thought of that myself years ago. Every time I tried to offer Cletus and his family money, they say they don’t take charity; I should have realized the solution was to find Cletus some kind of job.  He’s right that it’s hard for him to find any work, the Arbuckle’s have a bad reputation in town. Especially Cletus, he did time in juvie for a vandalism spree after his father died, smashed the windows on a bunch of businesses on Main Street, and a lot of folks in town hold that against him.”

“I’ll pay for his salary,” Ginger said, relieved that this wasn’t going to get her in even more trouble with her pack.  “And his lunch.”  She could charge it to her credit card, skip lunch for the next few months when she was in New York…

“Don’t be ridiculous, woman. I’ll get the town to cover it out of petty cash.  We do need that garden weeded and planted.”

They climbed back in the car and headed into town. “Next time, consult me first,” he added.

“Will do.” She nodded, relief rolling over her. Disaster averted. Her Alpha, and her standing with the pack, were safe. For now.

“I’m going to take you to my office now, introduce you to everybody.  We expanded our building recently.  I’ve got boxes and boxes of filing that needs to be done.”

“Great!” she forced a bright, cheery smile, but inwardly she quailed. How would everyone at the station react to the woman who’d publicly insulted their Alpha? And how had she managed to get herself into this mess? 

Her phone vibrated in her purse, and she pulled it out and glanced at it.

“Boyfriend?” he said, glancing sideways at her.

Hmmm. Why was he asking?

“I don’t have one of those,” she said. “But I do have a mother who’s apparently called me 11 times this morning.”

“No boyfriend? Men in New York must not know a good thing when they see it.”

“You’re too kind.  I had a boyfriend.  We…wanted different things.”  That wasn’t a lie. She wanted fidelity, more passion and a wedding ring, and he wanted to have sex with Bitsy Saperstein.

Her phone rang again.

“Why does your mother’s ring tone sound like the wedding march?”

She shot him a dirty look, flipped open the phone, and her mother’s shrill voice rang in her ear.

“What have you done? Did I raise you like this? How will we ever get you married now? Are our packs going to be at war?”

“Mother,” she said, gritting her teeth together.   “I am in the car with the sheriff.  Everything is fine. Everything is going very well.”

“Really?” her mother perked up. “Does he like you now? Is he single?”

“Mother.”

“Maybe you could cook him dinner. Show him how domestic you are.  I’m going to text you some recipes as soon as I hang up.  Or maybe-“

“I’ll call you tonight,” she said hastily, and hung up.
  Loch was stifling a laugh. “Don’t,” she said crabbily. “Just don’t.”

The sheriff’s building was a squat brick structure,  with black shutters and a big sign out front that said Blue Moon County Sheriff’s Office, with a picture of their logo, which was a wolf howling at the moon.
It was located in downtown Blue Moon Junction, which was what passed for a town in those parts.  They were gliding into Loch’s parking space by the front door when the radio crackled again.

“Some kind of disturbance call at Terry Jones house,” the dispatcher said. “She specifically asked for you to come, sheriff.”  There was an undertone of amusement in her voice.

The sheriff rolled his eyes. “Thanks,” he muttered. “I’ll take care of it.”

He pulled out of the parking lot, looking annoyed.

About five minutes down the road, they pulled into a mobile home park. The homes were small but neat-looking, surrounded by well tended little yards. 

The sheriff
parked in front of a house towards the back of the park, and as he and Ginger walked up the pathway to the mobile home on 3622 Sandhill Crane Court, he said to her “Brace yourself.”

“For what?” she asked, puzzled.

“You’ll see.”

They walked up the white gravel path to an entrance which was flanked by artificial roses in plastic pots, and the sheriff rapped on the door with his knuckles.  The door flew open, revealing…a voluptuous naked woman. Well, not totally naked. She was wearing a bikini made of saran wrap.
It was quite evident that she waxed.

“Ready to unwrap me, Sheriff?” she purred.

Then her gaze lit on Ginger, and her face fell. “What’s she doing here?” she pouted.

“Miss Jones. I have talked about this with you before.  This is inappropriate, and a waste of county resources. You could have taken me away from a real emergency.”

“But-“ her lower lip stuck out.

“No buts. Next time you place a fake emergency call, you will be prosecuted.”

Her eyes widened with anger and shock, and she slammed the door hard before letting out a stream of curses.  He turned and walked down the walkway, with Ginger following behind him and struggling not to laugh as they climbed back into his car.

“
Soooo…I’m going to go out on a limb and guess that at one point, you did hit that, and she wants an encore?” Ginger said, struggling and failing to keep a straight face.

“You’re loving this, aren’t you?” His tone was irritated and he stared at the road straight ahead, but Ginger thought she saw a little smile struggling to break free.

“A little bit. Yeah. This will make a great story to tell the friends back home.”

“You in such a rush to leave us?”

“Oh, no, not at all,” she said politely. 

Hell yes, before I accidentally offend someone else and start a full on war, she thought. Or before I climb on t
he sheriff and start humping his leg. 

Stupid annoyingly sexy sheriff.

He harrumphed, and turned on the radio, flipping through channels until he found a country song.

Her cell phone rang, and she saw that it was Marigold. She quickly
hit the “talk” button.

“Oh my God, have you had sex with him yet?” Marigold said.

“Why, hello, Marigold. You know, he can actually hear you. I’m in the patrol car with him. He’s like a foot away from me. So shut up, is what I’m trying to say.”

“
Oooohhh! Did he arrest you? Are you in handcuffs?”

Her face reddened.  “No, I’m not in handcuffs. How would I answer the phone if I were in handcuffs?”

“Good point. Hey, sheriff hot stuff!  When you guys do it, you should do it in the back seat of the patrol car!” Marigold yelled into the phone. “Or maybe on the hood!”

“I am going to murder you when I get home tonight!” Ginger
hissed, and clicked the phone off quickly.

Blushing, she turned and shot a venomous look at the sheriff, who was stifling a snicker.

“You’re loving this, aren’t you?” she demanded.

“A little bit. Yeah. So, you’re going to murder your friend tonight? Are you confessing in advance?”

“You hoping to put me in handcuffs?” She could have bitten her tongue off as soon as she said it. What happened to her promise to herself to be the only woman in Blue Moon County who did not stroke the over-inflated ego of Sheriff Loch Too-Sexy-For-His-Shirt Armstrong?

“
Ginger Colby. I’d heard that big city girls were kinky, but I had no idea.” His warm brown eyes were like melted chocolate, and a smile curved his lips.

Her cheeks flamed red, and a sudden image flashed through her mind of herself handcuffed to her headboard while Sheriff Armstrong
spread her legs open with his big, strong hands and... She pressed her legs together and shifted uncomfortably in her seat, praying she wasn’t leaving a damp spot there. She’d die. She’d literally die of mortification.

She
quickly changed the subject.  “So, you and trailer park Terry – you never answered my question.”

She was pleased to see that he looked uncomfortable.  “Never on duty. That’s all I’ll say. And only once, with her.”

“Never on duty? Ever? With anyone? In your whole career?” Ginger gave him the skeptical side-eye.

He spluttered and
then made an abrupt turn at an intersection, swerving the car so hard that she banged into her door and clutched at her seatbelt.

“Cherry pie?” he said.

“I’m sorry, what?” Ginger gasped.

“You like cherry p
ie? We’re going to Edna’s house of pie right now. Their pie is excellent.”

“Well…sure.  Although I’m more of an apple pie girl myself.”

“Good to know.” They pulled up in front of a small diner style restaurant with a handpainted billboard sign that showed a perky 50s style waitress holding up a pie in one hand.

Ginger felt everyone’s eyes on her as they walked through the door, and she blushed.  One man in a booth let out a low, appreciative whistle as he checked Ginger out.

Loch’s eyes blazed amber with fury and he spun to face the man.  “Watch yourself.”  It came out in a growl, and the man quickly ducked his head, muttered “sorry”, and pretended to be very interested in his menu.

The waitress lit up when they sat down at the table, simpering all over the sheriff. He grinned at her and winked, much to Ginger’s annoyance, and the waitress nearly dropped her tray of plates.

Of course, there was no reason it should bother her. She and the sheriff weren’t an item. They would never be an item.

The sheriff was sitting across from her, and she could feel his legs brushing against hers, and the physical contact almost made her whimper out loud.

She stared down at the menu.

Concentrate on the pie, she thought.  Come on, Ginger, you can do this.

All she had to do was resist the sexiest man she’d ever laid eyes on for two weeks even though he kept throwing sexy innuendo her way, and also refrain from making snarky remarks born of sexual frustration,  and she’d be able to go home in two weeks and put the sheriff out of her mind forever.