In the shade of the Walter pines, the air is cooler, although it’s still muggy from the hot August day. The thick, briny air is laden with the scents of pine straw and the ocean.

  When we reach the sandy beach, Cass’s white tank flies over her head. She pauses only a moment to push her khaki linen shorts down her long, smooth legs, along with her underwear.

  I stop a few paces behind her, unbuttoning my shirt and toeing off my topsiders. My eyes drink in her mouthwatering form. Her long, dark hair hanging down her back in waves, her narrow waist and full hips, her round ass.

  I’ve been here before, but only in my dreams.

  My dick is a steel rod pointing straight to her as I shove my shorts down, stepping out of them and wading into the warm water. She hops and does a small dive, disappearing beneath the brackish waves and moving farther out from the shore.

  I do the same, swimming freestyle until I reach her, catching her around the waist and pulling her naked body flush against mine.

  Our mouths meet, and we slide our lips together. Salt is on my tongue as I pull her mouth with mine, chasing our kisses as the light breeze wraps around us. Her breasts flatten against my chest, and I lift her, sinking my hardened cock fully into her heated core.

  “Yes,” she whispers in my ear, and her legs wrap around my waist.

  Her thighs tighten, and she’s riding me. I lift my hips meeting her with my thrusts. The gentle waves grow bigger with our movements. We’re lost in sensation, chasing that fantastic release as we cling to each other.

  My eyes squeeze shut, and it feels too good. “I’ve been waiting for this all day.”

  “Me, too.” She slides her lips to my ear, biting and pulling my skin with her teeth.

  Pleasure snakes up my thighs, and my orgasm is driving me now. I’m thrusting faster, my fingers cutting into the skin of her ass.

  “Fuck, Cass,” I groan. “You feel so fucking good.”

  She moans loudly, and her grip tightens on my neck. “That’s it,” she gasps. “Harder.”

  My mind blanks, and heat erupts in my pelvis, tightening my balls. “I can’t stop.” It’s a low groan, and her pussy squeezes around me.

  With a shout, I break, holding as the pulses of my orgasm take over, flexing and jerking my hips. My knees almost collapse, but I hold us, guttural groans ripping through my chest as my climax fills her trembling body.

  All my muscles are spent, and we’re breathing hard as we come down from that insane high. Her arms loosen over my shoulders, and a lazy smile curls her lips. I kiss her cheek, loving the feel of her in my arms.

  She exhales a sigh, blinking up at me. “I was just thinking… I have to get a job now.”

  “You have a job. You’re Pinky’s nanny.”

  Her nose wrinkles, and she shake she head. “I’m not letting you pay me for that.”

  My arms tighten around her waist. “You never let anyone pay you for anything. You’re a full-time student in an accelerated program, you’re Pinky’s nanny…”

  “Future mom,” she interrupts, and I don’t argue. I love it.

  “And you’re the new events director at Stone Cold.”

  Her eyebrow arches. “I am?”

  “At least until you become the best kindergarten teacher at Eureka Elementary.”

  “The only kindergarten teacher at Eureka Elementary.”

  “I’m putting you on the payroll at the distillery.”

  Her lips twist, and she nods. “I’ll allow it. At least so I can pay rent and buy food—”

  “You’re never leaving my house again.”

  She snorts a laugh. “Are you kidnapping me?”

  “If I must.”

  Her arms tighten around my neck, and she presses her soft body against mine. “You can’t even cook.”

  “We’ll learn together.” I slide my hands down under her ass, ready to go again.

  “Sounds like you have it all figured out.” Her voice is sultry. “One thing I’ve been wondering.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Are we friends now?”

  Exhaling a chuckle, I shake my head. “God, the friend zone is the worst. You see what happened to my brother.”

  Winking one eye, she frowns. “I think there’s more to that story than any of us knows.”

  I think she’s right, but I’m more interested in her. “Sing for me.”

  She traces the hair off my forehead with her finger. “What do you want me to sing?”

  “Sing the song you were singing the first time I saw you naked.”

  Leaning forward, she presses her cheek to mine. Soft lips graze the skin of my ear as she sings the first lines of “I Have a Dream” from that Broadway musical she told me all about. I’ve never forgotten that day.

  I hold her as I listen. My eyes close, and her body is soft against mine. She finishes, and I smooth her hair back, looking into her gorgeous face.

  “You’re so beautiful.”

  Her eyes blink quickly, and a bashful smile curls her lips. “No one has ever made me feel like you do.”

  “How is that?”

  “Like you can’t be without me.”

  I kiss her left cheek. Then I kiss her mouth. I place my thumbs along her jaw, memorizing the feel of her, this woman who completes me.

  “When we were still pretending, you kept saying I saved you.” My voice is low, thoughtful.

  Her eyes shine with her smile. “You did.”

  I return her smile. “No, beautiful girl, it was you who saved me. You restored my passion and my joy. You fueled my hunger, and you sated it. You were the missing piece that completed my family.”

  Sliding her hand up, she places her palm on my cheek. “I never knew I could want someone this much. I never knew this kind of love was possible.”

  “It is.” Leaning down, I kiss her lips. “With you.”

  Rising higher, she kisses me again, wrapping her arms around my neck. “Thank you for loving me, for giving me the life I was searching for.”

  We’ve both found what we were seeking. Because as good as we are at building things, as talented as she is in so many amazing ways, we’re also very good at making dreams come true.

  Thank you for reading Alex & Cass’s romance! Need More? Hop over and download your Free Bonus Scene here (link). You can read Aiden & Britt’s romance A Little Taste (link) now! And preorder Adam & Piper’s romance A Little Luck (link), coming Dec. 14, OR…

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  ✨Already Read A LITTLE TASTE?✨

  MAKE YOU MINE (link) is brother’s best friend, small-town, military romance with a possessive, blue-collar hero who will steal your heart.

  Read Now in Kindle Unlimited (link), or keep clicking for a special sneak peek…

  A LITTLE TASTE

  SPECIAL SNEAK PEEK

  Aiden Stone is a six-foot-two former Marine with a permanent scowl, dark hair, and dreamy blue eyes.

  He’s the oldest of the Stone brothers, and his “by the book” family has battled mine for control of our small town for generations.

  The last thing I should do is sleep with him. Or nearly run him down with my truck. Especially since he's sort-of my new boss...

  It doesn’t help that my grandmother (the mayor) is a former magician, and my mom is a psychic (sort-of)... And my dad died in a failed escape-artist attempt (that my mother is convinced was a murder).

  Trust me, I know crazy, but I’m just plain ole Britt Bailey, Shania Twain-loving, non-magical forensic photographer. Yes, I take pictures of dead things, but I don’t see them in my bedroom at night.

  I only want to see one thing in my bedroom at night, and when I’m called home to help Sheriff Stone on an investigation, he actually stops frowning for a minute, and my teenage fantasies get very real.

  It’s a terrible idea. We work together, he’s seven years older than me, he’s a single dad, he hates all things magic, but a little taste, and we can’t say no.

  Until the town crime wave turns personal, putting everything on the line, and we’ll need more than a magic bullet to get our happily ever after.

  (A LITTLE TASTE is a small-town, grumpy single-dad romance with a touch of light suspense and lots of tasty spice. No cheating. No cliffhanger.)

  CHAPTER 1

  AIDEN

  “Yep, he’s a goner.” Deputy Doug Hally straightens with a groan, holding the squashed cucumber out for my inspection.

  I nod grimly, and Terra Belle throws up her arms in distress. “My entire pickle farm is destroyed! Who would do such a thing?”

  We’re standing in the middle of the two-acre field now riddled with large, circular ruts and damaged fruit still on the vine. The pattern of the tire tracks reminds me of that movie about the aliens making crop circles, but this damage was definitely done by a vehicle of some sort.

  “My money’s on them no-good Jones boys.” My sole deputy tosses the damaged fruit to the side, lowering his brow in a knowing way.

  “You think it was Bull and Raif, Dad? Are you going to arrest them? Can I go?” My son Owen blinks up at me, his seven-year-old eyes wide, and I hesitate.

  If he weren’t here, I’d say this looks more like asshole teenagers who watched that movie and wanted to play a prank. The Jones boys were probably too drunk or high last night to do something this precise, but it’s important to me to be a good role model, even when I’m tired.

  Placing my hand on Owen’s shoulder, I summon my dad, the former sheriff of Eureka’s calm wisdom. I think about what he’d have said to me at Owen’s age.

  “It’s not our job to decide who’s guilty, son. We have to collect the evidence and make our best determination, then we’ll get a judge to issue a warrant.”

  “Oh, you know it was those Jones boys.” Terra drops to a squat, holding up a vine of crushed cuke after cuke–it looks like a sad party favor. “I’m tempted to gather up the rest of these and beat them to death with ‘em.”

  “Now, Terra,” Deputy Doug cautions. “Two wrongs don’t make a right.”

  “Yeah, don’t go there, Terra,” I add. “Then I’d have to arrest you, too.”

  “So you are going to arrest them?” She stands quickly. Her dark hair is tied up in a red handkerchief, and she’s wearing faded overalls and from what I can tell, nothing else. “This kind of vandalism can’t go unpunished. It’s trespassing, destruction of property, murder…”

  With every charge she shakes the pickle vine at me, and I stand straighter, rising to my full six-foot-two height and lowering my voice. “Take it easy, Terra.”

  It’s my standard way to diffuse tense situations, and sure enough, Terra deflates.

  “What am I going to do about my existing orders?”

  “You’ve got insurance, don’t ya?” Doug squints as he walks to where we’re standing.

  “Of course I do!” she snaps at him, but I let it pass.

  She’s facing a pretty significant loss, which has her understandably emotional. I have no clue how long it takes to grow a crop of cucumbers, and Terra Belle’s Pickle Patch is regionally famous, which I guess might make her a target. Of what, I don’t know.

  Exhaling slowly, I maintain my calm. “I’ll head back to the office and get you a police report to send to the insurance company. Hopefully, that’ll get you some money pretty quick.” She starts to argue it’s not enough, and I nod. “I know you want justice today, but I can't go arresting people without evidence. It’ll just get thrown out, and that’s not how we do things.”

  “Well, maybe it should be,” she grouses.

  I’m tired. I haven’t had my first cup of coffee. The call to come out here had me out of bed before the sun even broke the horizon. Now it’s climbing higher in the sky, and I’m ready to head to the office and possibly have breakfast.

  “Doug, you finish up here, and I’ll get Terra’s report ready.” I’m not sure the correct way to phrase my next question. “Before I go, do you have any enemies or rival… picklers?”

  “Oh, I’ve got plenty of rivals, but no one would stoop to this level.” She wipes a tear off her cheek. “Destroying my babies.”

  Pressing my lips together, I nod. I’m not good with tears, especially tears over “baby pickles,” which in reality are called cucumbers.

  “All the same, send me any names that come to mind, and take plenty of pictures. I’ll have that report to you by lunchtime.”

  I whistle to my son, who’s holding a squashed fruit with a stick and examining it. He drops it at once and takes off running to my truck. I let Doug drive the cruiser. In this town, I’m fine with a black Silverado and a light on the dash when necessary.

  Terra can work this out with her insurance company, and I’ll have Doug inspect every teenager in town’s vehicle for traces of cucumber vines. It won’t take long in Eureka, South Carolina. I’ll include the Jones boys to cover all the bases.

  We’re halfway back to town, the radio playing some old country song. Owen’s beside me, buckled in and bouncing Zander, his tattered, stuffed zebra on his legs. “Why would anybody drive a car in Ms. Belle’s pickle patch?”

  My hand is propped on the top of the steering wheel, and I think about it. “The older I’ve gotten, the less I understand why people do anything. I guess that’s why towns need sheriffs.”

  “I’m going to be a sheriff when I grow up!” He smiles up at me, pride in his eyes. “Just like my dad.”

  My stomach tightens, and warmth filters through my chest. I’m generally considered something of a grumpy badass, but this little guy… He’s a lot like I was at his age, thinking my dad was the greatest and wanting to grow up to be just like him.

  I thought I’d have a chance to work right alongside him, but a heart-attack took him two days after I graduated from college. I’ve missed him every day since. Especially when life hits hard. Especially when I need advice.

  I went from being a student, to being a Marine, to being a sheriff, and now Owen wants to follow in my footsteps.

  “You’ll be one of the best.” I glance at him before returning my eyes to the road.

  He sits straighter, lifting his chin, and I almost grin. I had no idea when he was born how much he’d carry me through the dark times.

  He was barely old enough to remember his mom when she was killed four years ago on her evening walk. I’d mourned her and pledged to find the person who hit her and drove off without even looking back.

  Then a year later, when I’d finally worked up the strength to go through her things, I found a box of love letters from Clive Stevens, who happened to live on the very street where she was hit.

  He’d even had the balls to attend her funeral before he moved back to wherever he was from. It never occurred to me to be suspicious of her evening walks, but after that, I pretty much swore off anyone not related to me by blood. They’re the only ones you can trust, and even then, it’s good to keep your eyes open.

  “Do you know what a zorse is?” Owen looks up at me, bouncing Zander on his leg. “It’s a cross between a zebra and a horse!”

  “Is that so?” I park the truck in front of the courthouse, which houses the mayor’s office and our headquarters.

  “A group of zebras is called a dazzle. I wonder if a group of zorses would be called a zazzle?”

  He looks up at me like I would know. “Forget sheriff, you should be a zebrologist when you grow up.”

  “That’s not a thing!” He groans as he climbs out of the truck, slamming the door and trotting up beside me, slipping his little hand in mine.

  It warms my chest, again almost making me smile. I don’t smile often, and I definitely don’t hold hands, but with Owen, everything is different.

  “You can be the first.” I scoot him through the glass doors ahead of me, hoping Holly, our secretary and dispatcher, ordered breakfast—or at least has a pot of coffee ready.

  “Aiden, I heard you were at Terra Belle’s Pickle Patch.” I’m met at the door by Edna Brewer, longtime mayor of Eureka, and unfortunately my boss. “My intuition tells me something sinister is afoot.”

  “Terra would agree with you. She left her house without her wig on.”

  Edna’s dark brown eyes widen. “You saw Terra’s real hair?”

  “She had a handkerchief around her head, and she was in overalls.”

  “Only something truly sinister would cause Terra to leave the house in such a state.”

  “I suspect it’s nothing more sinister than teenagers.” I start to walk past her, but she pulls me up short with her next words.

  “Owen, your father is a good man, despite his lack of faith.”

  My jaw tightens. We were almost having a nice moment, and she had to go there. “I prefer sticking to the facts when doing my job.”

  “Magic has never let me down, Sheriff, which is more than I can say of people.”

  She’ll get no arguments from me when it comes to people, however, “Where was magic when Lars needed it?”

  Her eyes narrow. “What happened to my son-in-law was a tragic accident, but escapologists are not magicians.”

  Neither are you. The retort is on the tip of my tongue, but I don’t say it. We’re fighting old battles, and we only go in circles.

  The Brewers and the Stones declared a truce after my father died, and I’ve done my best to honor it since starting as sheriff—as long as Edna keeps her hocus pocus to herself and out of my work.