Staying For Good
Page 74

Zane ran a hand through his hair. “I thought I was doing that.”
“You were . . . got a job, and aren’t you living in Waterville more than not?”
He shrugged.
“Zane?”
“I’m back and forth.”
Not something Jo wanted to hear. “Why?”
“Keeping an eye on my sister.”
Jo read more into those words than any he’d spoken in three weeks. “You do that.”
Zane gave a quick nod.
“But Zane . . . if things get hairy, call me. I don’t want you going in because someone drags you there.”
He had a moment of confusion on his brow. “Why do you care so much?”
Jo took a step toward him and had to reach up to scruff his hair. “Because I was an only child, and you’re the closest I came to having a little brother.”
Zane stepped back and for the first time in a long time gave her a full smile.
Noise from the parking lot told them the teens had arrived.
“How many miles do you run with them?” Zane asked.
“A mile on the track, then we hit the trails for another five . . . why?”
He looked at his watch. “I don’t have to go in until noon.”
“You won’t make six miles.”
His smile fell. “Challenging me, Sheriff?”
Jo lifted both hands in the air. “Bring it!”
“What’s this?” Zoe asked from near the open dresser drawer.
Luke poked his head out of her bathroom, brushing his teeth. “What does it look like?”
She lifted a pair of his underwear. “Man panties?”
He winked and ducked back into the bathroom. The sound of water followed a drawer closing with a slight creak. “I’m leaving a toothbrush here, too.”
“Your house is three miles away.”
“Well, I’m not moving in. People will talk.”
Zoe pulled the length of her hair behind a shoulder and grinned. “We can’t have that.”
Luke pulled her into a playful hug and dragged her down to the bed, pinning her arms over her head. “You have a problem with my man panties?”
“No,” she said with a giggle.
“Good!” He kissed her hard and quick before pushing off the bed, leaving her sprawled and a little short of breath. “Now go to work. I have cars to fix, woman.”
She turned her head when he hesitated at the door.
His smile said everything. His wink told her he’d see her later.
When Luke walked out the door, Zoe curled up and hugged a lacy pillow. She couldn’t remember being this happy.
Chapter Thirty
Ziggy held out his hand the minute Sheryl walked in the door. “You’re late.”
“It was busy. Took time for the place to clear out.”
Once again, the smell of hamburger and french fry grease followed Sheryl around like a cloud. Felt like he was screwing a grease pit lately.
He snapped his fingers until she pulled a wad of bills from her purse and placed it in his hand. It amazed even him how quickly she fell back into her role.
He dug through the one-dollar bills to find the larger notes. “This is it?”
“It’s the same as always.”
He counted it again. “You said it was busy.”
“Everyone came in late.”
He took a swig out of his water bottle. Damn thing was almost empty.
“Late, huh?”
Sheryl’s skinny ass moved into the kitchen. Ziggy looked her up and down, settled on her face. “Well, maybe if you wore a little makeup and tried to smile, you’d make more tips.”
“Nobody in this town cares if I have makeup on.”
He thought about how makeup and a dress could transform a woman. It could take a bitch cop and make her fuckable.
“You telling me I don’t know what I’m talking about?” His hand tapped on his knee.
She stopped moving dishes around and looked up. “No. No, Ziggy. I just . . .” she stuttered. “I’ve been in Sam’s for twenty years. None of ’em care if I have on blush is all.”
He stood, real calm . . . and walked into the kitchen. His chest hurt with the pounding he felt in his veins. Go for the hair. No bruises. He twisted the pan Sheryl had in her hand away and set it in the sink.
“This needs to get clean.”
“Uh-huh.”
He took her elbow nice and easy.
“Ziggy, let me finish this first.”
Poor woman thought he wanted her naked.
With careful ease, he inched his hand up her arm and to the back of her neck. When he grabbed a scruff of hair and pulled, she cried out.
“We need more money ’round here. And if I say you put on makeup, you put on makeup.”
He pulled until she stumbled back and her knees started to give. His arms felt the power of her surrender. His cock decided maybe it wanted to screw after all.
Holding his scrawny wife in one hand, he pulled her out of the kitchen, through the living room, and into the only bathroom. He slammed his hand on the light, let adrenaline fuel his lesson. A cosmetic bag sat on the counter. He poured everything inside into the sink. With one hand, he managed to remove the top of a lipstick.
Sheryl held his hand to keep him from taking part of her scalp.
“Lipstick makes men think of blow jobs.” He pushed the lipstick onto her lips, leaving a clump on one of her bottom teeth. He tossed the stuff back in the sink and grabbed a black tube.