by Donna Alward
She nodded.
“Of course I care. Hell. I’ve known you for a few years now. Since you were still married to Darren. I know you haven’t had it easy. He was a real jerk when you guys split. You’re not just some girl I picked up at a bar, okay? You’re…”
Now it was his turn to pause. They weren’t really friends, but they knew each other. They were acquaintances. Friendly. And this weekend they’d been very friendly. “You’re different.”
She sighed. “All you had to do was kiss me this afternoon and I was a goner. Joe, we do this really well.” She waved her finger between them again. “But afterward, we’re not sure what to do. And with your job, and the situation… It made me realize I’m not ready. For God’s sake, my idiot ex texted me fourteen times over the last two days. I go back and forth between ripping your clothes off and being scared to death of what it means. I’m surprised you’re not running in the other direction.”
She was right, and they both knew it.
“You want us to back off,” he said flatly.
“It’s best for both of us.”
He looked at her. Really looked at her. There wasn’t an inch of her she could hide right now. The right thing to do would be to walk away. He let his gaze travel down her body, taking in the gentle curve of her neck, her pink-tipped breasts, the hollow where her waist met her hip, the long, smooth length of her leg. The entire problem was that he didn’t want to walk away. He wanted to stay right here for as long as he could. In a capsule of privacy where they could make love until neither of them could think straight and they got this out of their systems.
The problem was he wasn’t just Joe Lawson. He was Sheriff Joe Lawson and while what he’d done wasn’t exactly wrong, it was a far cry from being right. If people knew what he’d done, his credibility would be toast. That credibility was all he had.
Damn.
Damn, damn, damn.
“You’d better go, Joe. Your truck’s been parked outside for over an hour. Once word gets out that I’m home, anyone could come to the door. Or phone.”
He frowned again. “Now I think I’m the one who doesn’t know how to exit gracefully.”
She smiled a little and reached out and touched his lips with a finger. “Maybe there isn’t a way,” she said, giving a little shrug.
“I can’t come back. You know that, right? I can’t keep my hands off you, Cass. Now that I know… If we start carrying on, people will know. I don’t think I’m that good at a poker face. I’m the kind of guy who goes all in, you know?”
She laughed a little, ending on a sigh that reached in and wrapped clear around his heart. This was the right woman at the wrong time. Damn it again.
“You’ve actually got a pretty good poker face,” she replied. “But I know what you mean. So…yeah. I understand, Joe. I really do. You’re right.”
They were on the same page, so why the hell was he feeling so damned disappointed? If she asked him to reconsider, he’d have to say no. Wouldn’t he?
But she wasn’t asking. She was agreeing with him.
He leaned in and kissed her, softer this time. It didn’t matter. Soft and slow, hot and fast…her kisses produced the same result. They were close enough that the tips of her breasts touched his chest. He’d never considered himself a boob man before, but he couldn’t seem to get enough of hers. The shape, the feel of them in his palm, on his tongue…
He needed to leave. And it needed to be a complete break. Anything else and they’d be falling into bed again. And again.
So he pulled back from the kiss, tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, and smiled. “Okay, then. I’m going to get ready to go.”
She nodded.
As he got dressed, she got up from the bed and went into her walk-in closet. She came out a minute later, dressed in soft pajamas that covered her from ankle to neck. “I’m going to make tea and read and be kind to myself for the rest of the afternoon,” she said, and he wanted to stay and serve her tea and watch TV while she read with her feet on his lap.
It wasn’t just sex. He wanted her. He wanted to spend time with her, know more about her, be near her.
Shit.
…
Cassidy heard his truck leave and let out a breath. Unexpected tears stung the backs of her eyes and she blinked three or four times, trying to clear her blurred vision. This was ridiculous. It had only been three days. Not even three full days. They’d shared a few meals, a hike in the woods, and a bed. A weekend rendezvous. There was no reason whatsoever to be getting emotional about it. She’d been 100 percent honest when she’d said she wasn’t ready. Just the thought of emotional intimacy made her stomach turn in a weird and unpleasant way.
She looked around her apartment kitchen and felt unbearably lonely. She needed sound. Movement. Anything to make her feel less isolated.
She put on the kettle and the soft hiss of water being heated broke the stillness. Food. She’d make herself something to eat. She opened the cupboards and went for the ingredients of her “emergency cake,” then mixed them up in a mug and put it to cook in the microwave. Tea and cake. She’d feel better after that, right?
Then she went to the living room and turned on the TV. She’d Netflix something. Cake. Tea. Netflix.
Anything to stop thinking about Joe.
There was just one problem. She could still smell him—on her skin, her hair, in her memory.
She settled into a corner of her sofa and drank her tea, ate her hot cake, and stared at the TV without really seeing anything. Instead, her mind drifted to Friday’s incident. God, she’d been scared. Not so much when it had been happening, because that had been simple reaction, but afterward, when she’d known she was okay. Joe had walked in and this great wave of relief had washed over her. Only then had the feelings rushed in, leaving her weak and wobbly.
He’d made her feel safe.
And then he’d made her feel cared for.
And in the end, he’d made her feel loved. Even if it was only for a few hours, she’d felt loved. That was something she hadn’t felt in a long, long time. Since way before her divorce.
Maybe that was the problem. Maybe she was making way more of this than she ought to, because she’d been so hungry for affection.
“Yuck,” she said aloud. Her last thought had sounded so needy in her head. She frowned at the screen, wondering why on earth she’d chosen When Harry Met Sally. She’d seen it tons of times already.
She might have thought about it more, but she heard a knock at the door and she got up to answer it. She checked through the peephole first, though. She was doing okay since Friday’s robbery, but she was definitely more aware and cautious than usual.
It was her neighbor, Mary, from the apartment next door.
She pasted a smile on her face and opened the door. “Mary. How’re you?”
“I’m just fine, dear.” Mary lived with her retired husband and occasionally popped over with “extra” food, since she clearly didn’t trust Cassidy to cook for herself, even though she owned the Forge. “I saw you got home all right. I wanted to stop in and see if there’s anything you need. If you’re doing okay.” Her kind face was pulled into a worried frown.
I saw you got home all right. The apartments had shared walls, and Joe had been here a while. Heat flowed into her cheeks. Had Mary heard more than she’d bargained for?
“I’m doing just fine, Mary. It was a scary day, but now that the guy’s behind bars, I’m just fine.”
“I’m glad. Such a scary thing.”
“It was. Do you want to come in?”
“Oh, I won’t intrude. I’m sure you want to relax. But I wanted to bring you this.” She held out a quilted carrier that Cassidy was sure held some sort of a casserole.
“You didn’t need to do that. Thank you.” She reached for the carrier and took it from Mary’s hands. If her nose was accurate, it smelled like chicken pot pie. Way better than cake in a cup.
Cassidy put the casserole on the kitchen
cupboard. “Are you sure you don’t want to come in for tea?” Mary was undoubtedly looking for some details. Normally, the nosiness would bother Cassidy, but today her place seemed so quiet, she could use the company.
“Paul and I have dinner plans, or I would. There’s a supper at the church tonight and we’re going to the five o’clock sitting.”
And so the casserole wasn’t really an “I made extra and brought you one” thing. Mary had made it especially with Cassidy in mind. She was particularly touched.
“Well, thank you very much. I haven’t really thought about cooking much, and it smells amazing.” On impulse, she stepped forward and gave Mary a quick hug. Her eyes stung once again. What the hell was wrong with her?
Mary patted her shoulder. “I just…well, you’re all alone here, that’s all. You need anything, you come knock on our door, okay?”
“I will.”
Mary turned to leave, but only took a few steps before looking back at her. “Oh, and Cassidy? You could do worse than Sheriff Lawson.” She winked and then headed back to her own unit.
Cassidy shut the door, certain now that her cheeks were flaming. Speculation after a simple weekend in “protective custody.” Joe was right. They couldn’t be seen together now without prompting comment. There’d likely be enough of that based on the weekend alone.
The last thing she wanted was to get him in any sort of trouble.
Chapter Ten
One month later…
Bubba’s Pizza was running behind with their orders. Cassidy waited outside the strip-mall storefront, enjoying the last of the fall air. It was crisp enough now that she kept a scarf twined around her neck and thin gloves on her hands. The Friday Night Special included a pepperoni pizza and an order of wings. While Cassidy got a lot of her meals from the restaurant kitchen, some nights just called for extra cheese, deep fried chicken, and someone else to cook it. Tonight was one of those nights.
“Holding up the wall?”
She shivered at the sound of the voice, a delicious sort of ripple that she’d hoped would go away in time but aggravatingly hadn’t. “Hey, Joe. Happy Friday.”
He was in his uniform, including a puffy jacket and gloves, and his breath made little clouds in the air. She remembered how he’d looked the day of their hike in the woods. Not quite as official, but just as delectable. So much for putting that weekend behind her. Not that she hadn’t tried.
“Friday’s just another day.” He shrugged. “I’m on shift this weekend. Thought I’d grab a slice before I head out again.”
They’d said it was going to be a clean break, and it had been. She hadn’t seen him since he’d dropped her off at home that Sunday. A different officer had delivered her subpoena, and a friendly lady from Boulder had called about counseling. She’d gone back to work as if nothing had happened. Joe hadn’t brought any more dates into the Forge, either. In a town that was usually unbearably small, they seemed to have managed to stay out of each other’s spheres of existence.
Until tonight.
“I’ve got tomorrow off,” she said casually. “It’s been a long week. I’m ready for some R&R.”
“I hear you. Oh, guess what? I got a dog.”
“You did?” Joe on his own was irresistible. Add a dog to that and, well, she’d be a total goner.
He nodded and grinned. It lit up his face and packed a wallop that hit her right in the chest. “Tim—you know, the other deputy?—he found a stray on the road and took him to the shelter. No one came to claim him, and he was a nice, friendly thing, so I adopted him.”
Of course he did. Because Joe was the last of the really good guys.
“Don’t tell me you got some little lap dog.”
He shook his head. “Nope. He’s a border collie cross. I keep trying to find things he can herd. He drives me crazy. And he loves squirrels.”
She laughed. “I thought you were worried about leaving a dog at the cabin all day?”
He shrugged. “He seems to be managing okay, and sometimes I bring him with me.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “My own personal K-9 unit.” He leaned forward conspiratorially. “The girls in the office love him. Jessie’s started keeping treats in her desk.”
She’d missed him. More than she cared to admit. And she was both pleased and frustrated that he seemed so…happy, when she was just getting by day to day.
“Anything new with you?”
“Naw. Same old same old,” she replied. “Work keeps me out of trouble. I just did the Friday deposit.”
His expression sobered. “How has that been? Is it difficult going into the bank?”
It was. More than she’d expected. Going through the doors was no big deal, but each time she stood in line, she got a creepy-crawly feeling up her spine. As a result, she often turned at a ninety-degree angle and faced the door so no one was out of her field of vision.
“I manage. It’ll get better.”
Silence fell around them. Was he thinking about that day the way she was? For the most part, life had returned to normal, but she’d be a liar if she said she didn’t still have the odd nightmare.
Finally she looked up. “No new blind dates?”
His gaze locked on hers. “No. None.”
It shouldn’t make her happy. It didn’t, not really, but at the same time, there was something in her heart that rejoiced, knowing he’d perhaps been as miserable as she had. Still, if he’d changed his mind about seeing her, it wasn’t like he didn’t know where she lived. Or worked. He could have asked at any time.
He was still looking at her. “You?”
She shook her head. “No.” It came out sounding a little bit strangled.
“Cass…”
“Don’t,” she said, her voice low. “I don’t know how to do this. Let’s just pretend we didn’t see each other tonight.”
“Is that what you really want?”
“Yes.” No, but the truth was the intensity of her feelings, after two days together and a month apart, scared the hell out of her. As hard as she’d tried, nothing had been the same since that Friday when she’d first felt his lips on hers. She’d quickly become addicted, then quit him cold turkey. Now one conversation and she was craving his touch again. It was too intense, and she didn’t trust it.
One of the teenagers that worked at Bubba’s came outside, carrying a pizza box with a small paper bag resting on top. “Ms. Strong? Your order’s up.”
“Oh, thank you!” she was relieved for the out and took the food from his hands. “Have a good night.”
“You, too, Ms. Strong.” The boy’s eyes widened and he gave a polite nod. “Sheriff.”
She chuckled as the boy went back inside. “Well. You’re impressively intimidating.”
He reverted to his poker face again. “Really? I got the feeling I wasn’t impressively anything. Good night, Cassidy.”
He nodded to her and then turned on his heel. He hadn’t even placed his order, she realized. For a moment she longed to call out to him, to tell him the truth. That nothing had changed.
But in the end, she stayed silent.
Because she was a chicken. Because her feelings hadn’t gone away, and she wasn’t sure what to do about it.
Could she really take a chance again? Was he even interested in anything beyond being friendly? Even if he was, she had a hard time believing that he’d stick around.
She went home and unlocked her door, balancing the pizza in her opposite hand. As she pushed the door open, she kicked an envelope that had been slipped beneath it. Frowning, she put the pizza down on the coffee table and went back to pick up the envelope.
It was from Darren; she recognized the handwriting on the front. For God’s sake. Annoyed, she ripped it open and took out the piece of paper inside. As she scanned the letter, she wasn’t sure whether to laugh or be angry.
He was making amends. Amends! Saying that he’d turned his life around and that he was sorry for all he’d done to make things difficult for her. For Pete’s sak
e. Was he asking for forgiveness? She shook her head, marveling at his arrogance. She wasn’t sure she’d forgiven him, exactly, but she’d made peace with the divorce. Darren was the past, and she never, ever wanted to go to that place again. It couldn’t have been more over. Why would he think she’d care? His words were wasted—not that she believed them anyway. She didn’t need him to make amends. She didn’t need anything from him anymore. That in itself was a cause for celebration.
“Good for you,” she said to the letter, then crumpled it into a ball and threw it into the recycle bin. He’d been the one to cheat and then piled the blame onto her. Most days she wished he’d simply dry up and blow away.
The letter, paired with the awkward meeting with Joe, left her feeling out of sorts. An hour ago she’d left work ready for a quiet Friday night and…happy. Now she was antsy and frustrated. She changed into pajamas, then grabbed a plate and a glass and put them on the coffee table. One more trip to the kitchen for a bottle of wine and a corkscrew and she was set for the evening.
A dozen chicken wings and two slices of pizza later, not to mention two glasses of wine, and she was having some regret. She was overly full and even more dissatisfied. How had she ended up this way, spending a Friday night alone? Maybe it was her fault, after all. Darren had called the shots for years and then he’d just…taken off with his younger, sluttier girlfriend. Left her high and dry. And Joe…well, Mr. Straight and Narrow had called it quits and not looked back. What was it about her that made her so leavable? Why was she not enough?
She frowned and topped off her glass. She didn’t mean that…not about Joe, anyway. He wasn’t like Darren. He hadn’t taken off with another woman. He hadn’t asked for anything from her, as if she owed him anything. Still, there was this whole impropriety thing. He was so caught up in appearances and how things looked. He hadn’t even tried to see her again. His silence told her he hadn’t even been tempted.
You turned him away, the voice in her head reminded her.
“Shut up,” she said out loud and lifted her glass. She didn’t need reminding. She’d been just as certain that he should go. Because she was afraid. Afraid of falling in love and being hurt all over again. Afraid that this time it would be more real…or worse, that it wouldn’t, and she’d be repeating her mistakes.
