“Are you going to answer me?” That voice. The deep, dark, mesmerizing timbre of his voice had featured in more than a few of Laurel’s overnight fantasies of late. Combine that with a body built like a tank and a set of handcuffs and…

“Miss Thomas.”

His impatience woke her up to her very real predicament. Either she came up with a plausible answer now, or she could very likely end up spending the night in an interrogation room. Not that she would mind sharing a room with the big bad sheriff, but one with a bed would be preferable. Wait, did she really just think that? Obviously, it’d been too long since she had a meaningful relationship—hashtag sex.