by Sharon Kay
She didn’t miss him. That fact echoed through her head on a loop that was part regret, part consolation, and part relief. What kind of woman doesn’t miss her fiancé? The events of the past year had dragged her from a starry-eyed, would-be bride to a much different version of herself.
Becca opened the text. Hey, I found a stack of your books here. They were in the dining room. I’d be happy to drop them off.
She frowned. She swore she’d gotten all her books, and all the rest of her possessions, out of his house when they’d split up, but maybe not. After a year of practically living with him, she had a ton of stuff there. It was entirely possible that she missed something.
Sure, that’d be great, she typed back. Whenever you have time is fine.
His reply came immediately. I’m leaving work. I can swing by now.
Oh. She blinked. That was fast. But she didn’t have anything else on her agenda. Okay, she typed.
Be there in 20 min.
She shook her head, put her phone in her purse, and then steered her car out of the lot and onto the two-lane road that would take her home.
That was weird. But Kirk was like that sometimes. He just decided he was going to do something and he did it, whether it was big or small. It was one of the things she had liked about him at one point in time.
Returning a book, running for office—yep, he just did stuff. Not much stopped him.
Her mind instantly began a checklist of what may be lying around her house. But she paused. What did it matter? She didn’t have a lot of clutter, and even if she did, she didn’t care what he thought.
Yet, she hoped he’d be nice. Maybe part of why she didn’t miss him was due to the cold way he’d ended things—so clinically with no passion, not even the negative, argumentative kind. No hint of caring what they—she—had been through. No, it was his lack of understanding, and her inability to explain to his satisfaction, that created an unbridgeable chasm.
And now, she had no desire to cross that span. Marcy was right.
She pulled into her driveway fifteen minutes later, maneuvered into the garage, and darted into the house to stow her purse. Then she went out to her little porch. She had two refurbished black iron chairs with super-puffy blue cushions. A tiny iron table, big enough for one drink and one book, sat between them. She supposed maybe two drinks would fit there, not that she had much company. Sometimes she sat out here and read or just sipped a drink and waved to whichever neighbor walked by.
Kirk was never late. He was one of those people for whom “on time” meant five minutes early, and “early” meant an hour early. His mom had told her he’d even been born two weeks ahead of his due date.
Right on cue, his Chevy TrailBlazer pulled into her driveway. He got out, all long legs and thick black hair perfectly in place. He must not have had any meetings today, as he was in chinos and a blue button-down shirt with no tie. If he went to a parade or other official outdoor event in summer, he would wear jeans and a polo. Yep, the county treasurer could blend in anywhere.
He smiled as he walked up, carrying a white plastic bag. “Hi there.”
“Hi.” She stood to greet him. This is awkward. They were over, but she hadn’t quite settled into the whole friend zone thing yet. She wasn’t going to hug him, but she wasn’t going to shake his hand, either. “Thanks for bringing those over. I thought I had grabbed everything.”
“No worries.” He handed her the bag and leaned on one of the porch columns. “I was going through some stuff and found ’em. I know how much you like these.”
She peeked inside to see some of her favorite steamy romance novels. Ugh. Really? One time he had scowled as she read one and muttered, “What crap are you reading now?”
He’d aimed subtle criticisms at her often. She’d cringed from them and yet had no idea how to respond. Agree or disagree—either way, somehow her words would be wrong. She hadn’t said anything then, and now she only replied, “Thanks.” He would hate whatever books he wanted to, and she couldn’t change it. She swallowed as awkward silence crept in. Did he want to chat? She opted for neutral. “How’s work going?”
“Good. Doing a few fundraisers next month. Finally got one at Owl Creek.” He’d been trying to get an event at the exclusive country club forever. “You?”
“Um, good. My routine is really different, but not bad.”
He eyed her navy polo shirt with the Silver Springs logo embroidered above the breast pocket and her khaki pants and sneakers. “I bet.” His expression unsettled her, and his tone bordered on mocking. Or was it pity. But he kept his eyes on her body, where they definitely shouldn’t be.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Yeah, she was underemployed, but she had gone out and gotten a new job, and he didn’t get to make fun of her.
“You never had to watch out for old guys pinching your ass or asking for sponge baths before.” The line was delivered as if he found the whole situation funny.
“That doesn’t happen.” She used all her willpower to not take the bait. He’d been a debate team star and could make anything sound like gold coming from his lips. It wasn’t worth an argument.
“No? Well, good then. Lucky you.” He was still checking out her chest as though he’d never seen her in a polo shirt before. Like he’d forgotten what breasts were.
His stare of appreciation mixed with pity irritated her and gave her the creeps. They weren’t a couple anymore. He shouldn’t check her out. Or look at her like she was a lost cause. “Eyes up.”
He started to scowl but corrected himself in a flash. “Sorry.” He ran a hand over his dark hair. “I, uh, it’s just weird to be around you and not…”
She raised a brow, forcing him to find the words. She wasn’t about to help him. “Not what?”
“Be close.” He actually looked sheepish.
Yeah, right. “Are you serious? You ended things because I was an embarrassment.”
“Becca, I—”
“I think you even used the words…I would ‘ruin your career.’”
“I’m sorry about that and that things didn’t work out. I—”
They both turned to the sound of tires bumping over her curb. Another SUV loomed in her driveway.
Holy shit.
Shane.
“What the hell?” Kirk’s voice was instantly harsh as he stared at the blue lettering announcing the Redemption County Police K-9 SUV. All traces of kindness dissipated like smoke. He slid her a cold glance. “What the fuck did you do now?”
“I didn’t do anything, Kirk. What’s wrong with you?” But Becca’s heart tightened as Shane got out of his vehicle. What on earth was he doing here?
“Let me do the talking. I’ll try to make whatever your new problem is go away.”
“Kirk, stop.”
But he was already halfway down the walk, wearing the attitude of an elected official who was used to people listening to him. “Evening, Officer.”
Oh god. This was not going to be good. Becca hurried to intercept whatever conversation was about to happen.
Shane glanced from her to Kirk, puzzled. “Hi, Becca. Mr. Treasurer.”
“Marlow. I see you almost every day,” Kirk said as if this was totally normal. “What brings you out here?” The last word fell from his lips with a mix of disdain and bafflement.
Shane paused, looking like he wanted to tell Kirk his reasons were none of his business, but unsure of why Becca had a man here, much less one of Redemption County’s elected officials.
“Um, Kirk stopped by, and he was just leaving.” Becca gave Kirk a pointed stare when he turned a perplexed expression on her.
“Is there a problem?” Kirk frowned.
“Shane is a friend.” Becca folded her arms and kept staring at Kirk, wondering how long he’d take to figure it out. Yes, she had a life outside of moping around over their fa
iled relationship.
He opened his mouth then closed it. His eyes hardened, and she swore another scowl was on the way, but his social skills must have kicked in. “Of course.” A smile played across his face. “Sorry.” He dropped his head to his chest and rocked once in his loafers. “I just came over to return something. I’ll get out of the way.” He slid a glance to Becca. “Take care.”
Kirk strode to his car. Luckily, Shane had parked next to it and not behind it. Kirk drove off, his intense curiosity hanging in the air like a wet blanket.
Shane watched him go, hands on his hips. Despite the awkwardness of the situation, Becca was grateful for his authoritative and protective stance. He swung his focus back to her, a dozen questions in his blue eyes. “Everything okay?”
That was a loaded question. “Okay? Sure.” She blew out a breath. “Weird? Definitely.”
Shane rubbed the back of his neck. “I gotta ask…how do you know Kirk Hatcher?”
She squared her shoulders. Should she have mentioned him sooner? But why? She’d been expressly trying not to think about Kirk. Crap. She may as well spill all the sordid details of her life before Shane got any deeper involved with her. “Kirk is my ex-fiancé.”
Chapter 10
Becca studied Shane’s face, more curious than she probably should be about his reaction to her revelation. He might not give a crap who her ex-fiancé was. Or he might harbor an intense dislike of politicians. Or he might dislike anyone she had dated in the past.
His brows shot up to his brown hair. He looked at her like he hadn’t quite heard her correctly. “You were engaged to Hatcher?”
“Yep.” She still couldn’t read Shane.
“Huh.” Shane folded his arms. “You two are still friends.”
It wasn’t a question, but she could detect the surprise in his voice. “Yeah. Sort of. Though that still sounds like a weird word.”
“Well, being friends is better than being bitter enemies, I guess.”
“I’m sorry about this.” She swept her arm toward the driveway. “I should have realized that you would know who he is, and vice versa. Guess I should have mentioned it before.”
“Nothing to be sorry about.” His eyes twinkled. “I’m glad you didn’t feel like bringing up your ex when I’ve been with you.”
“Yeah.” She fiddled with a yellow stretchy bracelet on her wrist and felt her tense muscles relax. Just being around Shane was easy. “He definitely wasn’t on my radar.”
“Good.” Shane gave her a smile that wiped away almost all her nerves.
“He was returning some of my stuff. He had just texted me and said he could come over. It wasn’t a planned thing.” She swung the plastic bag she still held.
Shane nodded. “Did you get my text?”
“No.” She instinctively patted her pocket. “Oh, my phone is in my purse, in the house. I put it there as soon as I got home. Sorry.”
“I was just letting you know I wanted to stop by. Wanted to show you this, see if it’s yours.” He fished around in his shirt pocket. “It turned up in the Lost and Found. A janitor found it in the fourth floor hallway, where you, ah…”
“Fell on my ass,” she muttered. Then her jaw dropped at the silver earring in his palm. It was a delicate filigree loop—not a traditional hoop. Old, unique, and hers. “Oh my gosh! I’d forgotten I was wearing those earrings that day.” Great, here it was a week later, and she still hadn’t realized it was missing. “I can’t believe someone found it.” She plucked the earring from his warm hand and held it up. “See how the back is a screw? They don’t make these anymore. This was my grandmother’s.”
“Glad I didn’t drive over here with someone else’s earring.” He chuckled.
“Thank you.” Her shoulders sagged as she gazed up at him. He’d been nothing short of awesome. They still hadn’t decided on their second date, and she really wanted to have one with him. But he really ought to know what she’d done, especially now that he knew of the Kirk connection. He deserved to know the reason she had been in the same air space as him on the day they met. She swallowed. “I need to tell you something.”
His sexy smile stayed, but a filter of concern washed over it. “Sure, anything.”
“Um…” This conversation wasn’t going to be easy. “You don’t have to leave your dog in the car. This might take a few minutes.” Or maybe not. Maybe there wouldn’t be much to say after she spilled her news.
“Should I be worried?”
She shook her head. “No. It’s stuff that happened in the past. It’s over, but you should know. I’ll try to summarize.”
“Okay.” He strode to the car and leaned in, and a second later, the enormous shepherd emerged. Shane shut off the engine. The dog looked from Shane to Becca’s yard expectantly.
He was a beautiful animal with intelligence radiating from his eyes. Becca held out her hand when they got close. He leaned into her palm then huffed out a breath and wagged his tail.
“You’re approved,” Shane said with utter seriousness.
“What? Really? What if I… what if he didn’t—”
“Teasing.” Blue eyes glittered. “He has a good memory. Pretty sure he remembers you, if not from the courthouse, then because I came home smelling like you the other night.”
Oh. That thought had never crossed her mind. Her cheeks warmed at the memory of him kissing her up against the wall, pressed oh-so-close to his hard muscles. His skilled mouth made her want to throw all caution to the wind. That was the best first kiss she’d ever had. Please let there be another.
She glanced down at the dog, remembering videos of police dogs going after criminals. “I’m glad he approves. I guess I’d try to bribe him with Oreos if he didn’t.”
“You just might succeed.”
“Good to know.” She gave a half smile that couldn’t possibly reflect her tumbling stomach. “You can have a seat.” She crossed to one of the blue-cushioned chairs and sank onto it.
“I’ll stand for now,” he murmured. Birds sang and crickets chirped, the only sounds punctuating the peaceful neighborhood. Silence stretched between them, and she knew he was being amazingly, wonderfully patient with her.
But nerves had frazzled her brain into a mess of worry. May as well start with the big huge problem that she had created. It wasn’t the beginning of her story, but it had become a defining low point. She took a deep breath. “So, I guess I’ll start with the reason I was at the courthouse last week.”
“Okay.”
“I…” Crap, this sucked. “I-I was paying a fine.”
He nodded. She guessed a lot of people had to pay fines.
“I had to pay it… because I… it was my penalty. I…” Her shoulders sagged. This was so damn hard to say.
“S’okay, take your time.”
He was too good. She gazed out at her quiet street. Just say it fast. Get the words out. Then she could try a weak attempt at explaining, and he could ask what he needed to. Maybe he’d decide she was bad for his career too. She looked into his gorgeous blue eyes and mentally searched for strength she wasn’t sure she had. “I… I stole money from the place I used to work.”
Chapter 11
Shane stared at Becca, years of training allowing him to keep his expression neutral. Anguish painted her face. It was clear as a neon sign that she hated to say this. And he hated that she was uncomfortable, though he admired the way she worked up the nerve to say it and let him in.
His brain whirled through the words she wasn’t saying. If she was paying a fine, then she had been caught. It had to have been recent, and she wasn’t in jail, so either the amount was small or the employer had chosen not to try for a jail sentence.
Shit. He’d never been involved with a woman who’d done… well, what exactly? He kept everything about himself easy and relaxed because worry rolled off her in waves, and h
e wanted to understand her whole story. “Cash?” he asked gently.
She nodded. “Five hundred bucks from the register at the Big Box Mart in Marmion.” She dropped her eyes to the name plate still affixed to his work shirt. “And since I worked there, it was considered embezzlement.”
Embezzlement—the nuance of theft that indicated a breach of trust, setting it apart from robbery and other related crimes. A hundred questions bounced in his brain. When? Why? Did she need it? People stole money for all kinds of reasons—greed, debt, the thrill of doing something illegal. And sometimes, folks needed money for medical bills, prescriptions, even groceries. Though on the surface, Becca didn’t appear to need anything.
The magnitude of what he didn’t know about her draped over him like a blanket. Yet the rational side of his brain took over. He would keep her talking, get as many facts as he could, and go from there because the need to ease her distress overrode his curiosity. “Thank you for telling me.”
Hesitant eyes met his. “Do you need to leave?”
“Why would I leave? Unless you want me to.”
“No, I don’t want you to. I-I just thought, maybe… you…” She sighed. “Will it be bad for you if you’re seen with me?”
A clearer understanding of her concern formed. “No.”
“Really? But it was in the paper, in the police blotter section, and I bet it’s in some police database. The last thing I want is to make you look bad or something.”
“Becca.” He took the seat on the other side of a tiny iron table. “I do my job. I do it well, and so does he.” He nodded at Denver, who studied Shane and then sat as well. “Beyond that, I don’t give a crap what anyone else thinks of how I spend the rest of my time.”
She swallowed, and the doubt in her face told him she hadn’t let go of her worries. “Okay.”
Shane angled toward her. “I can see it wasn’t easy for you to tell me. I’m happy as hell that you did. Anything like that? I’d rather hear it from you.”
