In response to a prompt I received on tumblr. :) I hope you enjoy this little episode shamelessly inspired by one of my favorite episodes of "Everybody Loves Raymond."
"Sheriff Locksley. What brings you here this afternoon?"
Her voice rubs his spine like leather on a mission. He takes his time looking up at her, enjoying every line and curve more than he should, adoring how frustrated she gets when he makes her wait on him for any reason whatsoever.
"Roland and I are selling popcorn for the Boy Scouts," he answers with a sly grin in her direction. "We're covering this shift for our troop."
Her lips tighten as her eyes narrow in his direction, taking in the quality of their display and Roland's thousand-watt grin that would probably sell a million boxes in thirty minutes flat.
"What brings you out and about on this fine day, Mayor Mills?"
She sizes him up, her eyes narrowing until they're nearly as tight as her ass. He's baiting her. She can feel it.
She hates it when he does that.
"Henry and I are selling popcorn, too," she smiles, feeling her lips twitch in spite of herself. "For our troop, of course."
Henry waves, Robin nods, and he leans back in his chair, hoping he appears far more casual than he feels. His pants have a way of becoming uncomfortably tight whenever he crosses paths with this woman.
"The least we can do as scoutmasters, eh?" he grins, enjoying the way her eyes spark in his direction.
"The very least," she hums, wishing he'd shove those dimples in his pockets so they would stop annoying her. "In fact, Henry and I have been the top sellers every year."
"Outstanding," Robin croons, leaning forward on his elbows, careful not to knock over the assorted boxes and tins of popcorn they have for sale. "That's quite an accomplishment. Perhaps you can offer me some pointers since this is my first time."
He watches in fascination as two perfect brows arch at ninety degree angles.
"I'd be happy to," she returns, motioning Henry forward, card table in hand. "You being an amateur, as you so aptly put it."
Ding. Target struck with pinpoint precision. She grins like a cat staking out a rodent convention.
"Well, since you're such an old hand at this," he tosses back, certain he hears a huffy intake of breath. "I'm sure your pointers will be unforgettable."
He stares at her like an alpha male sizing up a she-wolf and liking what he sees. Her nipples harden into points on the spot, and she clears her throat in an attempt to regain some self-control.
Shit. Just shit.
"Pointer number one," she manages, dropping her tone half an octave. "Never steal another troop's selling spot."
He shifts slightly in his seat, his forehead creasing just so.
"Sounds fair enough," Robin shrugs, his innocence almost convincing. "But Roland and I don't mind the company. We won't consider it infringing on our space if you set up beside us, will we Roland?"
"Nope," the boy answers before he scratches the top of his head. "Whatever fringinging means."
Her mouth almost grins as her eyes soften on his son, Roland tossing her a thumbs up for no reason whatsoever.
"You see," he continues. "It's unanimous. You and Henry are welcome to fringinging with us anytime."
He wiggles his eyebrows at her and could swear steam is starting to trickle out her nostrils. Her hand fists and relaxes repeatedly as her eyes blink a few times too often. He's getting to her.
Good. He likes getting to her.
"I think you misunderstand me, Sheriff," she states, taking two steps in his direction. "This is my spot—mine and Henry's. We've sold popcorn here every year since I first founded Troop Thirty-Three."
"Mom," Henry mumbles, clearly uncomfortable with the entire situation. "It doesn't matter. Why don't we go and set up in front of Mr. Gold's shop?"
She holds up a silencing hand towards her son.
"Because people expect us to be here, Henry," she explains. "It would be a shame to disappoint them and throw our community into a state of confusion."
The gauntlet has been tossed down—gently for the sake of their children, but it's there at his feet, nonetheless.
"Let me see if I understand," he murmurs as she moves in a step closer. "You think the town might fall into a state of disarray simply because Roland and I are selling popcorn in front of Granny's Diner?" He strokes his trim beard, making her wonder just how it would feel under her fingers…before plucking it out strand by blasted strand. "You can't blame me for being a little surprised that such a claim is being uttered from the lips of an otherwise somewhat reasonable woman."
That does it. No more Mayor Nice Girl.
"You're not from here, Sheriff," she retorts. "Our community has traditions that bind it together, expectations that keep us strong." She shrugs before leaning down, her palms now pressed between boxes of Movie-Style Butter and Kettle Corn. "It's my job to ensure that these traditions stay in place so we can look to the future with a firm sense of reality."
Roland slides around the table to stand by Henry, the two of them watching wide-eyed as if a wrestling match is about to ensue.
"A firm sense of entitlement, I think you mean," he hums, standing and bending to her level so that they are nearly nose to nose. "Whoops. Did I say that?"
"You did," she hisses, her breath on his cheek making him want to both throttle and kiss the hell out of her. "Of course, one cannot expect much better from a man who smells like forest."
"Uh-oh," Roland whispers, stepping back two paces. "That's not good."
"Ironic, isn't it," he fires back under his breath. "Because this is exactly the sort of behavior I would expect from a spoiled, immature brat who likes to play dress up in over-stated power suits and wear heels that should break her neck."
"Oh crap," Henry breathes, moving to stand just beside Roland. "This is not going to end well."
"Don't forget who you're dealing with," she returns, her forehead a mere inch from his. "I can have you forcefully removed from this spot with a snap of my finger."
"Is that so?" he questions, leaning in even closer. "And just who are you going to get to enforce that order, Mayor? I am the sheriff, if you remember."
"You're a thief," she breathes, her chest pumping up and down. "You stole my spot."
"And you're more of a domineering queen than a mayor," he hisses, her body heat radiating palpably off of his.
"Why are there people watching?" Roland whispers, nudging Henry's elbow. The older boy looks over his shoulder, noting the small crowd daring to gather around the outskirts of their family drama.
"Probably to place bets on who will cave in first," Henry shrugs, just before inspiration strikes. "You know, you and I could work the crowd and sell popcorn."
"Fifty-fifty?" Roland asks, crossing his arms over his chest as his eyes light up at the prospect.
"Fifty-fifty," Henry affirms, the two of them shaking hands. "You know, I wish my mom would just admit that she has a huge crush on your dad. It would make things a lot easier."
Roland sighs heavily, his curls bobbing up and down.
"My dad has the hots for your mom," the child states. "Big time. He just needs to man-up already."
They stare at their parents, the adults' eyes still locked, their stances unchanged.
"Ten dollars says that Regina knocks him flat," a voice murmurs into Henry's ear. "After Robin lays one on her, that is." He turns to spy Granny Lucas watching the exchange playing out in front of her diner, dangling a twenty dollar bill in the boys' direction. The scouts gaze back at her, their mouths nearly as round as their eyes.
"And give me a tin of caramel corn while you're at it," she orders before tossing them a wink. "I think your parents are going to be good for business."
