Last Chance

by Natalie Ann

  “Sure am,” he said.

  When the waitress walked away with her drink and their food orders, Riley said, “Back to your comment. No, I don’t lack confidence. Not when I know it’s warranted. I’ve worked hard my whole life. I wasn’t interested in anything other than dentistry. I’m not sure why. I’ve just always been fascinated by teeth. Maybe it’s because that’s the first thing I notice on a person. Their smile.”

  “I wasn’t smiling when I met you,” he said. “And yet here we are having dinner together. Had to be more than that.”

  “No, you weren’t. But you tried and when you did, it still came through.” He’d had a smile in his eyes that day, trying to override the pain.

  “And that throbbing smile I tried to give you is what made you change your mind about having dinner with me?”

  She could lie and say no, or she could be completely honest and add to it. Honesty won out. “You’ve got a nice smile. A normal one that isn’t overly perfected. Too much perfection is a sign of hiding something. What is that person trying to accomplish? Do they need to be perfect for more money? Do they need it to feel better about themselves? Both are acceptable reasons, but I don’t like trying to figure that out.”

  “Maybe my teeth aren’t perfect because my parents wouldn’t spend the money on braces.”

  She laughed. “There is that, too. But I’m thinking it’s more about the fact they knew how much you hated going to the dentist and figured you were confident enough to pull off teeth that weren’t perfection.”

  “You’re good at reading people,” he said.

  “I am. Comes from trying to prove to everyone that I’m not the ‘other Dr. Hamilton’ in the family.”

  “So that hit a nerve,” he said, laughing at her.

  She should be insulted he’d said that, but surprisingly she wasn’t. “It did. It still can, but not with you. Not as much as it used to. I’ve worked hard at proving myself to others, but found in the past several months that I really only need to prove it to myself and those that care about me.”

  “So what happened in the past few months to make you realize that?” he asked.

  “Maybe that’s a conversation for another time. Another date, if we make it past this one.”

  “Sounds fair. So ask me a question. We can ping pong back and forth.”

  “Why chief of police? Why not state police? You didn’t like the uniform, I bet.”

  He was wearing jeans, along with a plain T-shirt that showed just how toned his arms and chest really were. She liked that about him. That his appearance was simple, but he seemed complex deep down. There was more to him than she would have guessed before. And she wanted to know as much as she could.

  “Had to follow in my daddy’s footsteps. As for no uniform, lets say it’s the only thing I do the same as him.”

  She nodded. She wanted to ask more, but decided not to. Might not be the time for that right now either. “Guess we have that in common too.”

  “Not really. You didn’t follow in your father’s, and I did.”

  “Care to share why?” She decided to ask after all, testing the waters. He seemed open enough and they had time on their hands.

  “I like where I am. Some people want out of this small town, out of the Adirondacks and the woods. I did at one point too. They want the big city and action. Not me. Not anymore. Been there, done that. State police could send me anywhere, and anywhere isn’t where I want to be.”

  Made sense. “From someone who came from the big city, I can tell you this lifestyle isn’t so bad.”

  “You’ve figured that out in all of a month or so?”

  “I’ve been heading this way all along. Max and I are both people in the slow lane. My parents knew that. I think they’re happy I stayed within the same state, even if it’s at the other end of where they are. And being by Max is a plus for everyone. Kind of keeps the family all together in a way.”

  That had been the deciding factor for her. She’d wanted to be on her own. Wanted to get away, but knew that in her fragile state of mind and confusion she’d need some kind of support system. It was a good compromise without anyone knowing what was really going on.

  “Family is important to you?” he asked.

  “Absolutely. What about you?”

  “I’ve known no other way.” He got a bit more comfortable in his chair. “Tell me why you were so stressed over the accident today. Was it really your vehicle or just the accident in general?”

  “Probably some of both. It rattled me. I’m sure it does most people. You seem to read people well. What do you think?” She was curious to see where his head was at. If he could see more of what she was trying to hide.

  He looked at her, held her stare, waited what seemed like ten seconds—but was probably no more than two—and said, “You’ve got complications hidden deep down, I can tell already. On the outside, you seem to have it all, but there’s something bubbling right under the surface. So my guess is, the accident rattled you like it would most people, but something else was triggered. Whether it was your vehicle or a memory, that is what stressed you, not the accident itself.”

  Damn, he was good. Too good, and she was at a loss for words. “You might be right.”

  It was all she was saying. Her Range Rover had a deep meaning to her in that it was her rebellion. Her first rebellious move of finding herself again. Of taking a stand. She wasn’t letting anyone tell her what she could and couldn’t buy or do. What suited her or what was ridiculous. She wanted it and she bought it. End of story.

  That something might have happened to it or to have it taken away when she’d only had it a few months triggered her anxiety. It was just a vehicle, she knew, but she was in a good place in her mind and didn’t want it disrupted at the moment.

  Then again, looking at Trevor sitting across from her made her realize that her life was going to be disrupted anyway. Except this time, it was a much-needed—and wanted—distraction.

  Back for More

  Trevor was enjoying their conversation. He liked that she seemed to answer his questions honestly, even when he assumed she’d rather not.

  She had direct eye contact at all times. Though she might have paused a few times before she answered, he could tell it was to figure out her words, rather than disguise them.

  There was a mystery behind her and he was looking forward to unraveling it.

  They were halfway through their meal when he said, “So, I’ve got to ask. How does someone with such a big germ phobia share a brownie with another person? Someone they’d just met?”

  He’d found it strange at the time, which was why he was hesitant to take a bite of it. When she’d said she was done, he thought why not—because again, it was the closest he’d be getting to her lips, it seemed—but when she went back for seconds, he knew something more had to be going on.

  “I didn’t bite the same side you did,” she said, grinning at him.

  She had a point. “Yeah, but someone who replaces all the countertops and tiles in her house would still have a fear that germs from my mouth or my hands might spread all over it. I breathed on it, too.”

  She cringed and then laughed at him. “Very true. Don’t forget about changing the toilets in the house too.” He rolled his eyes, which only caused her to laugh again. “Like you said, I was rattled. But honestly, my phobia isn’t an OCD thing.”

  He lifted his eyebrow. “I repeat, you changed out all the tiles in your house. A house that was only a few years old.”

  “I didn’t like them, either. Doesn’t that count for anything? Maybe I wanted to make the place my own?”

  Which showed she was here to stay. Of course, buying a practice sort of proved that, too. “So there was more to it than germs?”

  “Germs might have been my first thought, but I could have gotten over it. As you so kindly pointed out, I’m around oral germs nonstop. I really didn’t like their taste more than anything else.”

  Made more sense and
explained why she did share the brownie. “So how does your place look now that you’ve put your own touch on it?”

  “Are you asking to go back to my place after dinner?”

  Her eyes were flashing caution, but he noticed the arousal behind it. Not the time to push. “I’d love it, but somehow I don’t see you inviting me back there. Just yet. Remember, I said you were complicated earlier.”

  When she smiled at him—her eyes crinkling up, her features softening, her teeth nice and straight, but not perfect, either—he relaxed because he knew she was relaxed too. “I don’t know that I’ve ever been called complicated before, but it probably could be a good description right now. As for my house, it looks good. It feels better.”

  That was an odd thing to say. “How does it feel?”

  “Right. It’s soothing. Comforting to me. When I go home, I just feel my body sigh into oblivion. That’s important after a long day. Don’t you think?”

  He did. “I get it. I feel the same way. It’s probably why I live in the same house I grew up in.”

  “You do? You don’t live with your parents, do you?”

  Her outraged face made him want to laugh, but he decided against it. “No, I don’t live with my parents. They moved to Florida to be closer to my younger sister, Taryn. Kennedy, my other younger sister, still lives here, like I said before. She owns her own spa and lives above it off of the main drag. The house always felt right to me, more than to Kennedy, so I offered to buy it.”

  She nodded. “What feels right about it?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe it’s just what you said. I feel my body unwind when I enter the door at night. I walk to the back of the house, look out over the water, and know that’s where I need to be.”

  All those years when he was younger and wanted to head out of town like so many of the kids his age were wiped away in the years of war. Home was where he needed to be at peace. What he ran from and what he needed all along ended up being one and the same. He’d just needed to go away to know that.

  “You live on the lake?”

  “I do. Lake Placid, just outside of town. Same lake as your brother, not that far from him. Just a few miles. He’s in a new section, more remote. I’m around a lot more houses, older homes. Your germ phobia might knock you unconscious going into my house.”

  “Are you a slob?” she asked, winking at him. “Because I’m a good judge of people and I’d say you take care with what is yours.”

  Her eyes roaming over his arms and chest fed his ego immensely. “I’m far from a slob. My sisters would say I’m a neat freak, but not like you. I have to be more organized than clean, if that makes sense.”

  “It does. They go hand in hand, but I picture you as someone who does what needs to be done without question. More like you’re disciplined with your organization. I say I put a hundred percent into everything I do, but I’m sure you’re the same.”

  He pushed his plate away and leaned forward on the table, his forearms down, his eyes burning into hers. “I put a hundred and ten percent into something I think is worth it. If I really want it.”

  “Another thing we have in common,” she said, mirroring his stance on the table. That flicker of arousal he’d spotted earlier leaped into her eyes again.

  “Would you like dessert?” the waitress asked as she made her way over and started to pick up their dishes.

  “I’m good,” Riley said.

  “I’m set,” he said to the waitress. When she walked away, he said to Riley, “Had your chocolate for the day? Do you always eat chocolate when you’re stressed? If so, it doesn’t look to me like you must get stressed often.”

  “Thank you. I’ll take that as a compliment. I don’t think I get any more stressed than the average person who decided to pick up their entire life in three months and relocate, while buying a new house and trying to convert her new business into modern times. But when it comes down to it, I only need a bite half the time. Just a nibble and I’m good to go.”

  He wanted to comment on the three months thing. People don’t just decide short notice to make a change that major. Not unless it’s reactive to their surroundings. Definitely something else going on. He stored it away for another time and decided to focus on the mischievous glint in her eyes.

  “Are you like that with all aspects of your life? Just need a nibble and then you’re good to go?”

  “Oh no,” she said. “When it’s good enough, when it’s worth it, I go back for more. I don’t stop until I’m completely satisfied.” She cocked her head for good measure. “I’ve even been known to gorge myself if it’s really worth it.”

  “Good to know,” he said, feeling his jeans start to tighten.

  ***

  Riley walked into her house and just like she’d told Trevor earlier, felt her shoulders drop, the tension all but flying away.

  She had no reason to be tense right now. None at all. It’s not like she was kissed senseless in the parking lot after their date.

  Oh wait, she was kissed senseless after their date.

  He was a smooth one, Trevor. She’d give him that. Smooth enough that she was looking forward to their next time together.

  She’d parked by his SUV, side by side, they were. He’d pulled her in between the two vehicles, sheltering them from wandering eyes unless someone happened to walk by and lean in. She was guessing that was his intent all along.

  “Are you going to step back if I kiss you?” he asked.

  She liked that he’d asked first. She wasn’t stupid; she knew he’d seen her flinch when he tugged on her hair before. She’d thought she was getting better about that. It was silly, really. She hadn’t been touched by anyone in months and she wasn’t afraid of it, but she hadn’t been expecting it then. She thought she was getting better at controlling her jumpiness.

  This time, though, she was expecting it from him, without him even asking. She’d been seeing it in his eyes all night long. She’d been sending out just as many signals.

  “Not at all. Will you step back if I kiss you?” she asked.

  “Hell no,” he said, sliding his hand against her cheek, then wrapping it in her hair and holding her in place. This was no chaste kiss a man gives a woman on the lips or the cheek. This was a full-on assault, an invasion of her space, lightning ready to strike. And when it did, it hit every one of her senses, forcing her to grab onto his shoulders to steady herself.

  He’d nudged her mouth open with his, swooped in and tasted her. Sweet and tangy like the beer they both drank with a hint of urgency on his part. Or maybe it was hers; she couldn’t really tell and really didn’t care.

  All she cared about was the strong muscular shoulders she was holding on to. The bulging biceps her fingers trailed over, his mouth that was slanted against hers that gave no signs of easing up or letting go.

  She didn’t mind. She could have stayed like that all night, too, but someone did walk by. And someone cleared their throat and then laughed, forcing them to jump apart.

  “Do you know who that was?” she asked, not wanting him to be talked about.

  “No. Probably a tourist thinking we’re hiding. Which we are, but no one would have known I was the police chief.”

  “Is that why you don’t have your badge and gun on?”

  “I’ve got my badge in my wallet and a gun on my ankle. But after hours I like to at least pretend I’m not on official duty.”

  Probably why he wasn’t wearing a Lake Placid Police T-shirt either. “So you’re working right now?”

  “No. Being chief, I’m always on call, but I’m not on duty, if that makes you feel better.”

  “I was feeling pretty good before we were interrupted,” she said boldly. Why not? She’d come this far, might as well nudge some more.

  He took it as she intended and yanked her forward and kissed her again.

  She sighed now while walking through her house, flipping through her mail. Bills and advertising, just like always. Nothing good ever seemed to b
e mailed to her. The good old days of letters and cards were long gone, replaced by social media invitations and brief messages.

  She went to the kitchen, got a bottle of water, then sat on her couch and put her feet up, sliding off her flats. She’d love to wear heels now and again, but she was on her feet way too much to even consider it.

  Instead, she wiggled her toes, admiring her pedicure, then grabbed the remote and turned the TV on. She was in the mood for some romance now, and what better way to forget about the past few months of her life than to settle in and watch two people dancing around each other, imagining herself in their place.

  Moving On

  “Hi, Riley, how are you doing?”

  “I’m good, Mom. I’m just walking in the door; can I call you back in five minutes once I change?”

  “Of course, dear.”

  Riley disconnected the phone and dashed upstairs. Most people wouldn’t be eager to talk to their parents, but she always was. She loved them so much. They understood her well and stood behind her when she needed it.

  When she told her father that she didn’t want to follow in his footsteps. When she told them she was going out west to college, a full day of air travel to see her. When she said she wanted to move out right after college and get her own place, rather than try to save up some money.

  They never told her it was a bad idea. They never said she shouldn’t do anything. All they asked was, “Are you sure?”

  Once she said yes, they let it drop, and offered any support she needed.

  All those years she worked so hard to prove she could do it on her own were paid back. Many people wouldn’t have worked as hard as her, not for everything she touched in life, not just the tough things, but everything she wanted, everything she did. Not with her background and “privileges.” But she knew by doing things her way, it showed her parents she was independent enough for them to loosen the strings around their “baby.”

  Thinking back, though, maybe she should have leaned on them some more. There were definitely times in her life she could have used a shoulder. Times she would have loved to tell them what was going on in her life. Her fears, her insecurities. But she didn’t, she held them in and worked through them on her own.