* * *
Colton had just spent the past two hours settling a domestic dispute. Elias Riegler, who lived in a rental whose front yard resembled a garage sale in progress, had thrown a bottle that barely missed his wife’s head. His fist, however, made contact just fine. The man wasn’t drunk, and being an idiot wasn’t good enough reason to bring him in when his wife refused to press charges.
She’d said it was her fault she made him mad.
Elias was the family’s only income source, so with five kids, the woman was terrified to toss him in jail. Or maybe she was afraid of what he’d do to her once he got out. So Colton left without an arrest. It wasn’t the first time he’d been called out there either.
Colton had no problem with his job when he could help people, but when his hands were tied…Well. Let’s just say it wasn’t exactly the kind of call he wanted to respond to on his birthday. Or any day, for that matter.
Thinking about Sara on his drive back to the station was far more pleasant, but a little uncomfortable too. He hadn’t spoken to her since last weekend, just waved to her across the street one time while he was helping ninety-year-old Moira Perkins navigate the curb on her way into the library and Sara was walking out of the antique shop.
It wasn’t like him to avoid anyone. In this town it wasn’t possible to do that. But Sara…something had shifted between them. And he wasn’t quite sure what to do about it.
Thing was, he couldn’t stop thinking about their talk last weekend. The part, specifically, when she’d stood on tiptoe and kissed him on the cheek.
Her hands had rested for that brief moment on his chest, and he’d wondered if she could feel his heart practically beating out of it like a trapped bird. Or the sudden way his breath caught. Because it was all he could do to keep himself from wrapping his arms around her and pulling her flush against him, turning his head so that his lips met hers, not his damn cheek.
Instead he’d stood still as a statue while her lips made contact. While her pretty scent surrounded him and her hair tickled his neck. She’d worn it down for once, all that thick red hair spun through with gold. He’d never in his life seen hair like that, and the urge to drag his fingers through it and pull her lips to his had him fisting his hands at his sides.
He’d be a fool to read anything more into that kiss besides a truce, a gesture of friendship. They’d spent ten years nearly despising each other. Why couldn’t he just be grateful that was over? After all, he’d been the one who’d stuck his hand out like an idiot and suggested friendship in the first place. Good one, Einstein. He could no more be her friend than he could be her enemy anymore.
Ten years of crossed wires. Who knew what could’ve happened between them if it weren’t for one simple lie?
Who knew what still could?
That kiss had opened a floodgate of possibility. Thing was, he had no idea what to do next. Pray the attraction would pass? Hope it was just temporary insanity brought on by an old memory best left forgotten? Certainly getting involved with her was a bad idea in a small town where they had to face each other nearly every day. Not to mention how that would complicate his relationship with Tagg.
Besides, he didn’t really do relationships. He liked keeping things casual and fun, without attachments. He’d had a few steady girlfriends—none of them from town—but he didn’t want to be shackled to anyone. Yes, his buddies called him the Revolver in jest, but it was true in that he didn’t care to have any of them stick.
Colton checked his watch. One more hour on duty, then it was the weekend. The Fourth of July was tomorrow, and besides some paperwork in the morning, he was finally getting some time off.
His phone buzzed just as he finished his last cruise through town for the night.
Can u stop by on your way home? the text read. It was from Sara. How had she gotten his number? He’d wager from Carmen.
Sure, he typed back. Everything OK? His first thought was that maybe something had happened with her grandmother.
Nothing wrong. See u soon.
Those last three words triggered a flurry of emotions. Puzzlement. A little trepidation. And yes, excitement. He’d missed her. Although he wasn’t quite sure what to do after that heart-to-heart. Maybe he needed a good run-in with her to show him how annoying she was and prove to him why thinking of her romantically was a very bad idea.
When Colton pulled up to her grandma’s little bungalow, Sara was sitting on the swing, the porch lit only by a couple of outdoor candles—the kind that kept the bugs away. She motioned for him to hurry up.
As he got out of his car and climbed up to the porch, he saw a solitary birthday candle planted in the middle of a pie sitting on the low table. She sat there in a gray Indians T-shirt and cutoffs, smiling. The candlelight flickered on her hair and her face, casting all her features in a warm glow that nearly stopped him in his tracks.
Rocket was cuddled close to her side, snoring.
“Nonna believes in recycling candles,” Sara said with a sheepish smile. “This is the only one in the house, and it’s down to a stub. Make a wish fast.”
His brain finally put two and two together. How had she remembered? “You got me a pie for my birthday?” Suddenly the simple act of drawing in air became complicated, like he’d somehow forgotten how to do it. He dragged his gaze from her to the pie so she wouldn’t see what was surely on his face.
How touched he was.
“Nope.” She shook her head. “I didn’t get you a pie. I made you a pie.”
Words clogged up in his throat. Her eyes were dancing in the low light, and he could see the golden highlights in her hair. Forget the damn pie. He wanted to taste her.
Whoa there, Colton. Friends, friends, friends, he repeated to himself. What had happened to all that animosity between them? The desire to tease her, to make her blush? To keep her at a distance, which was what all that bickering had done. Now he found he did want to make her blush. But for a completely different reason.
“Did you celebrate today?” she asked.
“Carmen made cupcakes. I’ll have dinner with Cookie and Hannah this weekend.”
She patted the swing beside her and he took her up on the invitation, staking out a spot on the other side of Rocket, who sniffed him discerningly, then leaned back against Sara. His uniform grazed her leg, and his gun banged awkwardly against the swing.
“Better hurry and wish before it fizzles,” she said, gesturing to the candle, which really did seem to be on its way to flickering out.
Oh, he wished all right, while she did a speedy rendition of “Happy Birthday.” She couldn’t hold a tune to save her life, but he loved it just the same. Then he blew out the candle.
As it sat there smoldering, a thin wisp of smoke curling elegantly into the wooden slats of the porch ceiling, Sara jumped up. “Do you like warm pie? I’m going to nuke some pieces and put ice cream on them, is that OK? I’ve been waiting for this all ni—”
Before he knew what he was doing he reached up for her arm, tugged her back down beside him, and planted his lips on hers. Then he curled his hand around her neck and pulled her in deeper.
Her lips were soft, and she tasted amazing, sweet like the pie, and sure enough, she was kissing him back, parting her lips, resting her hand lightly against his chest. Over his heart, where he was certain she could feel its wild rhythm as his entire body responded to the thunder of that kiss.
Caught up in the feel of her, soft and warm in his arms, he lost track of time and his sense, and for once he didn’t even care if half the damn town drove by and saw their chief not being chiefly.
When he finally wrenched himself back, he was shaking a little.
“You’re awfully grateful for birthday pie,” she said. She was breathless too, he was pleased to note. Her hair was mussed, and she looked a little stunned. And so beautiful he knew he’d remember this moment forever.
“I am so grateful,” he said. God, he sounded like an idiot. Before he could think better of i
t, he kissed her again. She made a sweet little noise deep in her throat. Her hands slid up his back, curving around his shoulders, and she grabbed on, tugging herself flush against him.
The woman was driving him mad. She wasn’t uptight or tense or any of the type A adjectives he’d once accused her of being. She was just soft and lovely, and she fit perfectly in his arms.
The dog, clearly offended at being left out, insinuated himself between them and started licking his arm. At the same time, a voice calling out from the house made them suddenly break apart.
“Is that Colton’s car parked in the driveway?” Nonna asked.
“I was just wishing Colton a happy birthday,” Sara said, her lips curved into a little smile.
“Well, happy birthday, Colton,” Nonna said. “I’d come out, but I’ve got my curlers in.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Faranaccio,” Colton said, but he was looking at Sara. Her pretty blush. Her slightly dazed expression. All he knew was that he wanted to kiss her again.
“Come have some pie with us,” Sara called out. “We don’t mind the curlers.”
“Thanks, sweetie, but I’m headed to bed. Happy birthday again, Colton.”
Nonna waved from the screen door and disappeared into the house. “I’ll be right back,” Sara said as she got up, scooped up the pie, and disappeared into the house, leaving him with the dog, who stretched out on the swing and went belly up for more love.
Best. Birthday. Ever.
* * *
Oh my God. She’d kissed Colton. Well, technically he’d started it, but she’d fully taken part. Why had she done that, kissed someone she used to hate—well, OK, hate was a strong word—disliked intensely up until a few days ago? And she’d liked it. So, so much. She reached up to touch her lips. Dear God, he was a fantastic kisser.
Sara never remembered having this feeling of being electrified, on fire, hot and cold, weak and ready to dissolve into a boneless pile, panting and restless.
“Need help in there?” Colton called from the porch.
She was standing at the kitchen counter, staring at the fridge, panic surging through her veins. Kissing Colton Walker? What had she been thinking? Well, that’s what happens when you bake a man a birthday pie. He gets ideas. Well, and she clearly had ideas too. Friendship ideas, like he’d suggested. Friends she could handle. Then where had that lip lock come from?
They were opposites in every way. He was chill, she was high-strung. He laughed easily and was beloved by everyone. She…Well, she wasn’t sure where she quite fit in, but she knew she definitely didn’t have the type of personality that made teachers forget their reprimands and every woman within fifty yards feel faint and giddy. And she didn’t have dimples. Definitely no dimples.
Most important of all, he was Tagg’s friend. And that reason, above all, was enough to warn a sensible person away forever. And yes, Sara reminded herself, she was a sensible person. She had to handle this…attraction. It was there, but she could rein it in. She didn’t have to act on it. Plus he was the Revolver. God, what was she thinking!
She was back outside a few minutes later, handing him a warm bowl loaded with berry pie, ice cream sliding down over the top like the snow atop a mountain. “Here you go, Colton. Happy birthday.” She cleared her throat, which suddenly felt like it was stuffed with a massive ball of cat hair. She nudged Rocket down off the swing and scooted a healthy distance away from Colton. The dog gave her an offended look and crawled beneath the swing.
Colton took a healthy bite. “Amazing,” he said, but he was looking at her.
“My mom’s recipe,” she said, dropping her gaze to the table, the floor, anywhere not to make contact with those blue eyes that were signaling something very, very dangerous. Blatant desire. Wanting. She took a small bite, but it caught in her throat. She put down her fork, forcing a swallow. “You don’t mind pie, do you?”
“Why would I? It’s terrific.” He looked confused. Understandably, since cake was her issue, not his.
She fidgeted her fingers in her lap, suddenly not knowing where to put them. “I really haven’t had cake since before…the wedding.”
“Sorry to hear that,” he said.
“The bakery delivered the cake to our house, did you know that? This gorgeous thing, covered with perfect fondant icing and tiny edible pearls. I was the one who opened the door.”
He shook his head. “I’m sorry, Sara.” That was two sorrys in under a minute. She had to signal to him in no uncertain terms that there would be no. More. Kissing. Kissing was bad. Off-limits. Too dangerous.
“It’s OK.” She smiled stiffly. She barely knew what to say, but from the expression on his face, she could see he’d gotten the hint.
He set down his bowl. They both stood up, awkward now.
“No one’s ever baked me a pie before. I mean, besides Cookie.” He assessed her in that thorough way of his, a slight frown forming.
“Listen, Colton,” she said, suddenly looking straight at him. “I—don’t think anything more than being friends is a good idea for us. I’m totally not ready for a relationship and—um, well, we both work in the same town and all. Things could just get really…awkward, you know?”
Something flickered in his eyes. Disappointment, maybe? She couldn’t tell. He was very quiet.
“I hope you understand it’s nothing personal,” she said. “Just that I think it’s better for us to keep it platonic, you know?”
Not better. Safer. Much, much safer.
“Well,” he said quietly. He looked confused, maybe even a little stunned. “All right then. Thanks again for the pie. It was delicious.”
“Have a great birthday celebration,” she said, too cheerily.
She watched him walk down the driveway at last, carrying the pie she’d made him take.
The pie that she’d been so excited about. Well, that had certainly taken a bad turn.
She could not start something with him. She could not subject herself to that awful scrutiny again—the embarrassment, the humiliation, which surely would happen once things ended because, you know, it was Colton. She would chalk this up to temporary insanity. Rework things in her mind to adjust to their being friends, and be a lot more careful about doing things that might send him the wrong signals. Starting with no more kissing!
It would be all right. She could do this. She would be cordial and friendly and carry on as they’d planned, as friends. It was the right thing to do.
As he drove off, he waved. She stood there for a long time, watching his car disappear, touching her lips.
Chapter 12
The next day was the Fourth of July. Colton had spent the morning catching up on paperwork and now sat on the freshly painted bench outside the police station having lunch with Rafe. He’d packed a turkey-and-cheese sandwich with an apple. Rafe was eating spaghetti and meatballs, and his lunch looked a lot better.
“You make that?” Colton asked.
“Yep. Made the sauce from scratch too.”
Colton scowled. What with Cookie planning to snowbird in Florida come winter and Hannah leaving for college, he was going to be in trouble. “You taught yourself to cook like that?”
“I’ve learned a few things at the station.” He leaned over to check out the contents of a plastic Tupperware container. “What’s in there?”
Colton had packed a healthy slab of his birthday pie. He took a plastic knife and cut it in half, then slid it onto a plastic lid near Rafe. “I brought extra. Have some.”
Rafe took a bite. “Oh, wow. This tastes just like my mom’s berry pie.”
“It is your mom’s berry pie,” Colton said. Rafe raised a brow. “Your sister made it.” He and Rafe were good friends. He wasn’t about to lie.
“Evie made you pie?” Rafe asked. “Wow, what’d you do, rescue her cat or one of her kids or something?”
“Sara made it.” There, it was out. Rafe would be touchy if he knew Colton had kissed his sister, and he saw no reason to discuss that, but the
truth was the truth. Not like there was anything scandalous in making someone a pie, anyway.
Rafe looked him over carefully. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”
Colton snorted. “No.” Rafe telegraphed him a glare. “Not at all,” he said more adamantly.
Apparently Rafe didn’t buy that. “Wait…no…not you and Sara. She hates you, man.”
Colton suppressed a groan. What had he been thinking? He definitely should’ve lied about the pie. “She doesn’t hate me,” he said, a little irritated. “She just doesn’t more than like me.”
He’d kissed a lot of women, but none of them had affected him like Sara. None of them had the ability to piss him off like she could either, that was for sure. But last night he’d barely slept, and his mind kept circling back to how amazing it had been to kiss her again. Even better than he’d remembered from way back when, and that was saying a lot. Those soft lips, those little sounds she made in the back of her throat as she kissed him back, the way her body melted into his. He could swear she’d been as eager as he’d been.
He hadn’t meant to kiss her. It had just…happened. Then she’d pulled the friend card on him and shut him down, just like that. To be fair, he’d been the one who’d played that card first. Idiot.
“She must like you plenty if she’s baking you pie,” Rafe said, brows pulled down in a staunch frown. “My sister hates to cook.” He took another bite. “Wait a minute. What about the bachelor party? You two come to terms with that?”
“What happened after that bachelor party was not my fault. You know that. Geez.” He stuffed his half-eaten sandwich back in his bag.
Rafe studied him. “Look, Colton, I mean, Sara’s had a rough year. I love you, bro, but you’re not exactly a relationship kind of guy. And I don’t want you thinking you can use my sister as—”
“Forget I said anything, Rafe, OK? And it’s not like that. At all. Besides, I have a date tonight.”
Colton had asked Hannah if she’d like to go to the fireworks in the park with him, but she’d said she was going with some friends. Even Cookie was going with the book club ladies. So when Everly Peterson, who was in charge of the little theater company in town, had asked him this morning if he’d like to go with her, he’d been just peeved enough at Sara to say yes. Going out on a rare night off would be a distraction. It would remind him in case he was in danger of forgetting that he was single and it was never a good idea to get stuck on one woman. Especially a woman like Sara who wouldn’t be hanging around Angel Falls for long. Besides, Everly had been trying to get him to go out all summer.
Then There Was You Page 14
