“This really is a small town.” He blows out a breath.
“You have no idea, buddy.” I pat his arm. His muscles flex, giving me sensorial overload of the kind of guns he’s hiding under that uniform.
Guns? Really? With that lingo, I should be teaching high school. Unless “guns” isn’t cool anymore. Is it?
Stop talking to yourself in your head.
I look at the screen and mumble a curse.
Your session has timed out.
Wonderful. Now I have to go back and restart the process.
“You do know how to input your information, right?” Nate says when I stare at the screen.
“No. Is that what this is for?” I lift the mouse, sarcasm dripping from my words.
“I was joking.”
“Another terrible joke,” I deadpan.
His sense of humor is not well-defined. He could tell me a clown is bouncing around in a tutu, and his face would remain impassive.
“So I’ve been told.”
“I got sidetracked, so I got kicked out of my session. I’ll be a few more minutes.” I begin inputting my information.
He nods, walking behind me. He pauses, leaning into my ear.
“Don’t forget your driver’s license number.” His breath tickles my skin, and his arm pops up from behind me and taps the spot on the screen I accidentally left in blank.
I jolt and turn to look at him. His eyes are on the screen, and I can’t help but scan the side of his face at his perfect jaw peppered with scruff. A hint of mint hits my senses.
“Uh, huh.” I shake my head and tug my license out of my wallet.
Having him this close is like having alcohol shot straight to my veins for instant drunkenness. What is it about this man that affects me? It’s more than being hot.
When he steps back and walks around the counter, I audibly sigh and then widen my eyes. Darn. I did not want him aware of the effect he has on me. I’ve been able to maintain a distinct line between work and my personal life, but Nate is a walking temptation. Distance is the best option. He can stand far away on the other side of the room.
And you’d still sense him.
I ignore my conscience and focus on my task, finishing my payment.
“I’m done.” I turn the screen over, and Nate takes a look at it from his side of the counter.
“Looks good.” He submits my payment, and I sigh in relief. “I can’t believe you have never gotten a ticket.” His eyes widen as if I were some kind of alien.
“Not once in my life.” I lift my chin proudly.
“Wow, so you’re a goody two shoes?” The way he says this holds a hint of judgment that makes my nostrils flare.
“No.” I scoff. “I’m a rule follower, a law-abiding citizen, a good Samaritan. I like to save money for other things, like coffee.”
“Coffee?” He narrows his eyes, once again looking at me like a weirdo. I don’t blame him.
I’m rambling like I have a few loose screws in my brain that refrain me from working properly. Those loose screws can all be labeled, Mr. Hot Deputy. He causes loss of brain function with his minty breath in the middle of the afternoon and stubbled face and piercing eyes that I can’t tell should be attractive or intimidating. Maybe both.
“Coffee is my love language.” I shrug. “Anyway, thanks for your help. I promise the computer at work wasn’t showing me all that info.” The last thing I want is for him to think I’m incompetent when I teach his nephew.