The Right To Remain Mine (34 page)

        She nodded and skirted the car to the passenger side just as the door opened and Noel's twelve-year-old sister slipped out to crawl into the back seat. About to settle herself in the front, Tessa paused when Raith called her name sharply.

        "Theresa."

        Willow touched his elbow, probably warning him not to cause a scene.

        His baby girl lifted her head. "Yes?"

        His throat burned. But he forced himself to say, "Do you have enough money?"

        Relief showed in Tessa's eyes, and her shoulders relaxed. "Mom gave me some."

        His nod was stiff. "Have a good time," he murmured even though the words tasted like sawdust in his mouth.

        Her face lit. "I will. Love you, Dad."

        Now, that was more like it. "Love you too, kiddo."

        As her door shut, he slid his gaze toward Noel, who'd waited for Tessa to enter the car before he did so himself. His eyes narrowed.

        In return, Noel's Adam's apple bobbed. He gave a hesitant wave. "Uh, good to see you again, Sheriff," he called before ducking into the car and shutting the door.

        Raith felt like a schmuck, stupidly standing with a dry garden hose in his hand, simply watching his fifteen-year-old daughter drive off with some hormone-crazed honor student. He didn't care what Tessa had said or what Willow had allowed; this felt suspiciously like a date to him.

        "Well, well. I'm impressed."

        Arching his brow his wife's way, Raith scowled. "What? You thought I was going to murder him in the driveway?" Then he shook his head and patted the side of his truck. "Nah. I didn't want to risk squirting blood on my baby."

        Willow rolled her eyes. "Why are you always so hateful to that poor boy? He's nothing but polite whenever he comes over to do homework with Tessa. And he worships the ground she walks upon. I like him."

        Raith wrinkled his face in distaste. She would like the little punk. Yet another reason to hate the kid. "The little brown-noser calls me sheriff," he muttered.

        Looping her arms around his neck and leaning her body into his, Willow grinned. "Well, you are the sheriff. Have been for five years now."

        Grumbling under his breath about that nasty fact, Raith swayed toward her in return, his body tightening as her soft breasts pressed against his chest. God, after all these years, she still affected him this strongly. It was amazing. Exhilarating. "Doesn't mean he has to be a suck up and mention it every time he sees me." Bending his face toward her neck where her familiar smell entered his nose, he kissed his way across lush, womanly skin.

        Willow hummed in appreciation. "She'll be fine, you know."

        Raith had his doubts, but he didn't want to stand out here, talking about his parental fears. So he murmured, "Who will?"

        Willow laughed and grabbed his face with both hands so she could kiss his lips. Groaning his approval, he caught her mouth with his and slid his tongue between her teeth.

        When she pulled back, her gaze was soft and glazy. He loved her more than he thought was humanly possible.

        "So we have the house to ourselves for a while," she murmured in the husky voice he knew meant he was about to get lucky. "Do you really want to stay out here in this dreadful heat, washing your truck? Or do you want to come inside and check out the new bra and panty set I bought this week?"

        She had bought a new—

        His mind short-circuited.

        "Inside," he ordered, dropping the garden hose and nudging her toward the front door.

        Willow's delighted laughter echoed down the street.

Linda is a contemporary romance author from Midwestern USA, where she lives with her wonderful husband, daughter, and nine cuckoo clocks. The eighth and final child of dairy farmers, she was forced into having a vivid imagination if she ever wanted to do something one of her siblings hadn't already tried.