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What Happens at a Buffet……
An R.L. Mathewson Chronicle
(Dedicated to Debra MacArthur: Happy birthday, my little ray of sunshine)
“What are we waiting for?” the incredibly handsome man that had been standing next to her for the last five minutes asked in a conspiratory whisper that had her lips twitching.
“I’m not really sure, but whatever it was, it went fast,” Zoe said, gesturing to the empty metal pan in front of them.
He nodded solemnly. “Then it must be good.”
“Exactly,” she said, matching his nod and earning a killer smile that would no doubt make any other woman instantly fall head over heels in love with him.
“While we wait, can I interest you in some mashed potatoes?” he asked, gesturing to the pan of creamy mashed potatoes in front of him even as he reached down and adjusted his holstered firearm, making her inwardly sigh with pleasure.
There was just something innately sexy about police officers, she thought, absently wondering what it would take to get Trevor to play a little game of cops and robbers with her later.
Lips twitching, she held up her plate. “Please.”
With another one of those grins that she had to admit would give Trevor a run for his money, he scooped up a big spoonful of mashed potatoes on her plate. “Care for a double?”
She pursed her lips thoughtfully, before she reluctantly shook her head with a long drawn out sigh that had his lips twitching with amusement. “I’m afraid that one scoop’s my limit.”
“No one would have to know,” he said in a low, sexy drawl as he reached up and cupped her face in his warm hand. “It could be our secret.”
Biting back a smile, she placed her hand over his, holding it where it was. “Someone would find out.”
“We’d be discrete,” he promised on a whisper as he leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Just say the word, darling, and all those mouthwatering carbs could be yours.”
“What if my husband found out?” she whispered, struggling not to laugh when she felt his lips twitch.
“He’d probably kill the dumb bastard touching you,” the familiar sexy drawl announced, drawing her attention to the man standing behind them, watching them through narrowed slits.
She felt Darrin press one last kiss against her temple before he pulled back, but he didn’t go far. He put his arm around her shoulders, no doubt to screw with Trevor’s head, something that he seemed to take great joy in doing.
“I guess our secret’s out,” Darrin said with a sigh of regret as he gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze.
“He was bound to find out,” she said, matching his tone.
“My only regret is that we didn’t have a chance to discover what was in the pan,” Darrin said with a forlorn expression that had her biting her lip, hard, as she struggled not to laugh.
“How many times do I have to tell you to keep your goddamn hands off my wife?” Trevor asked, looking close to going for his cousin’s throat as he gave the arm still thrown around her shoulders a pointed look.
“Probably a few hundred more times,” Darrin admitted with a shrug as he used his hold on her to move her to the side and out of the way of a woman trying to get to the pan of cranberry sauce.
“What are you doing here?” Trevor asked as Darrin once again maneuvered her out of the way.
“Found Marybeth’s list,” Darrin said with a triumphant grin that had Trevor’s glare narrowing and Zoe struggling not to wince.
She considered giving him a warning, but just as quickly decided against it since it would probably provide her with countless hours of entertainment. Not to mention the fact that Marybeth would probably kill her if she opened her big mouth.
No, she decided as she watched in horrified fascination as a server carrying a large metal pan of country fried chicken walked towards them, completely oblivious to the two large Bradfords locking eyes on him, it was probably best if she didn’t say anything.
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