Reunited with the Sheriff

by Lynne Marshall

  Truth was he didn’t want to understand. Mainly because it was too hard to see how out of her thoughts he’d been, when she’d been on his mind all the time. He’d held her in a time capsule of perfection, expecting everything to work out when the day came.

  Reason loomed again. Had she? Been on his mind all the time? The honesty center of his brain couldn’t let him get away with the prevarication. He’d compartmentalized her, let things slide, had dated more than a few women in the interim. They hadn’t taken a vow of celibacy that night on the beach, just made a date to meet again.

  So why did it hurt so much when she didn’t show up? Damn, so caught up in his own thoughts, he’d missed most of her long-winded story.

  “—so I got swept up by the wrong guy, and foolish as it was, I thought I loved him.” She shot Conor a glance, as if wondering if her betrayal had hurt him all over again. “Before I realized I didn’t love him at all. But it was too late. I was pregnant.”

  Benjamin had finished his water and threw his cup on the ground. Conor bent to pick it up at the exact moment Shelby dived for it. They bumped heads. Hard.

  Ouch! Maybe the pain would knock some sense into him.

  “Sorry,” they said in unison, their gazes locked and loaded with tension, mixed with head pain.

  She retrieved the cup and sat on the bench again. He refused to rub his forehead.

  “How could I face you like we planned, pregnant?” she pleaded.

  He studied his toes, fighting her logic, wanting more than anything to hang on to his pain and self-righteous judgment, but her honesty wouldn’t let him. She may have taken the righteousness out of his judging her, but he was still angry. “The way you handled it?” Considering a two-year-old was on his back, he adjusted his first and honest response. “It sucked. Sucked big-time.”

  “Please forgive me.” She stood and took a couple steps toward him. “You’re the last person on earth I ever wanted to hurt.”

  Her coffee-with-cream stare seemed so sincere, and it would make sense to give in, just say, Okay, I forgive you. But it wasn’t that easy. He’d suffered like nothing else in his life because of her, and she deserved to know how much. “After I waited and waited, you called and didn’t even explain why.” Emotion roiled inside, while he stuck to the facts. “You just said you couldn’t come.” He snapped his fingers. “Like that.”

  “It took everything I had to call you, Conor. Then I fell apart.” Her voice cracked on the last phrase.

  He was finally getting a look at the truth from her side, and a surge of empathy tripped him up. He fought it, needing to make her understand how it’d felt on his end. “You dodged my phone calls, when I was worried sick about you. You made me feel like I didn’t matter. That I didn’t deserve to know what was going on.”

  He’d lashed out in tired old anger and wounded her. Was that his plan? Whatever happened to compassion? Her face contorted and tears streamed down her cheeks and he immediately regretted being brutally honest. But she should know, shouldn’t she? How she’d brought him to his knees, crushed his dream of having a life with her. His chin quivered in response to seeing her cry, and he hated the confusing emotions swirling inside but was helpless to stop them. He clenched his fists.

  “I was messed up. I was pregnant. I had a job I couldn’t quit. I’d blown it and lost my best friend.”

  Was that all she’d thought of him? He’d planned a life with her. Queasiness settled in the pit of his stomach. He remembered perfectly the night they’d said they loved each other. It was the same night they’d made their date. Truth was he’d been afraid to contact her in the weeks before, afraid to find out if she’d changed her mind. Then it turned out she had.

  “Please forgive me, Conor. Please? I still want to be your friend.”

  Ah, hell, she was out of control, crying, begging, needing to wipe her nose and looking like she better sit down or she’d fall. They’d started out as friends twenty years ago, this was far from where he’d hoped they’d end up. Disappointment whispered through him, along with his old friend, resentment. But she stood there with tears in her eyes asking for his forgiveness, and he’d always been a sucker when she cried.

  She’d come home with her head down and a baby in her arms, having to take the job at his family’s restaurant. She’d proved she could swallow her pride for the greater good. Why shouldn’t he? Their dream had been dead for two years, since the day she didn’t show up. Holding on to resentment had dragged him down enough. The only way to get past the lowest point in his life was to move forward, even if it meant just being friends with her.

  What could be the harm reverting back, when all the damage had already been done? On a wave of compassion, he rushed toward her to offer support and the napkin she’d given him with the croissant. She grabbed it, wiped her nose, then latched onto him like he was her lifeline.

  “Hey, listen,” he said, wanting to make things better. “I forgive you. Okay?”

  Relief gushed out of her as she used her forearm to wipe a fresh stream of tears. “Thanks.”

  Shaken and unsure if he’d made the right decision, he accepted her thanks. Holding a grudge had only made him bitter anyway. “Doesn’t mean I’m over it, but I can finally understand why you did it.”

  She gave a sobby half laugh.

  “Mama?”

  “I’m okay, sweetie.” She immediately changed her voice to mommy-tone. “See, sometimes mommies cry, too.” She reassured, and out of consideration, Conor bent his knees so she could be face-to-face with Benjamin. She took off the boy’s hat and ruffled his hair, pinched a cheek, then kissed him with a mwah!

  What she’d offered Conor was friendship. Could he settle for that?

  One thing he’d learned as a cop was that people would say all kinds of things when they were guilty, to try and explain why they’d broken the law. Maybe his view on mankind had gotten a little cynical on the job, but as risky as it could be, he still wanted to believe Shelby. Give her the benefit of his doubt. He hoped they could erase all the bad parts and start over as friends. He really didn’t want to encourage anything more than that, though. In fact, he wouldn’t allow more because only an idiot let his heart get broken twice by the same woman. Besides, being an automatic dad had never been on his to-do list. Never even registered. He’d leave that for Daniel and Mark.

  Shelby finished fussing with Benjamin, who was happily oblivious to all that was going on thanks to a flock of seagulls circling nearby.

  She was the new Drumcliffe chef. He may as well make peace with the fact he’d see her a lot. Kid and all.

  Cool fingers cupped his cheeks. Shelby looked earnestly into his eyes. She pulled his face closer. He didn’t resist. “Thank you,” she said again, just before she kissed him.

  Nothing like that peck on the cheek yesterday, this was a kiss. A real kiss. Soft lips, warm breath and all. The kind that made a guy dream. And he let the sensation roll through him, because it had been a long time since a woman’s kiss had felt like this. Like Shelby.

  A red flag waved frantically in his mind as her mouth continued to wreak havoc with his. She gave 100 percent of herself, as she always did, and he reciprocated, holding her closer, pressing his mouth harder, until he felt a familiar thrill down to his toes. Friends would’ve stopped long before now. Who did she think she was kidding, pretending they could revert back, when this was anything but the kiss of a friend.

  Benjamin grabbed Conor’s ears and pulled them hard, spoiling the moment and bringing him to his senses. He hesitated, but it was hard to deliver a proper kiss with a kid pulling his ears. Shelby played dirty, too, moistening his lower lip with her tongue. Talk about mixed messages. Benjamin advanced to whapping Conor’s temples with his palms, and jabbing his kidneys with toddler toes, and he finally made a clean break. Definitely not a kiss between friends.

  Chapter Five

  Wednesday night, when Shelby got word Conor was in the dining room for his dinner break, she had a crazy idea. H
er head had been spinning since they’d kissed yesterday morning. She wasn’t sure what’d come over her after her apology and confession. Then she’d pitched the friendship bit, and next thing she knew she’d had him in a lip-lock. And she’d meant it. That was the part that shook her the most. Coming back to Sandpiper was only supposed to be temporary, a year, or two tops. If she hadn’t earned her top chef honors by then, she wouldn’t deserve them.

  The small-town guy she’d thought she’d grown away from still twisted her hiking socks. Thankfully Benjamin had broken the spell and they’d hiked back down that trail in suspicious silence. They’d said goodbye, then both rushed off in different directions.

  She’d thought a lot about him yesterday and last night. She’d annihilated his trust in her and it would take a long time to earn it back, if she ever could. But that was as a lover. All she wanted now was to be his friend again. She hoped to start slow and build from there, since she had a lot of making up to do. So as one friend to another she made an executive chef decision.

  “Abby, don’t give Conor a menu. I’m going to personally serve him tonight’s special.”

  To help draw new customers she’d decided to have one three-course special every week for a discounted price. Tonight’s appetizer was scallop carpaccio with fennel served on a shell. She’d gotten a great deal on the scallop shells last week at the beachside farmers’ market, and couldn’t wait to use them.

  Because she avoided cooking veal, she’d adjusted a traditional osso buco Milanese recipe to use chicken thighs instead, which was cost-effective as well. And tonight’s special dessert was lemon panna cotta with fresh blueberries in a light glaze. April was the perfect time for a meal such as this.

  She knew he was on his dinner break from work, so she’d start him off with an iced tea. “Here.” She handed Abby the tea with two of the scallops on shells. “Tell him, compliments of the chef.” She winked and immediately felt stupid about it. All the single ladies in the restaurant and around Sandpiper Beach probably had crushes on Conor. Abby probably thought Shelby was just one more.

  As soon as the first wave of dinner guests and their orders were under control, Shelby personally plated the osso buco Milanese for Conor and carried it to his table. It wasn’t hard to spot the guy in the uniform who sat a head taller than most others, even though he was tucked away in a dark corner of the dining room, leaving the best seats for paying customers.

  Wishing she could stop the blush she felt infiltrating her cheeks, she inhaled and headed for his table, a smile pasted on her face that, to be honest, felt quivery. But whatever, service with a smile was a Drumcliffe house rule.

  “Deputy Delaney, here’s your dinner.” She made a big deal about setting the plate in front of him, nearly taking out the small table candle in the process.

  He stopped the candle from toppling, but not the melted wax from dribbling down its side.

  “Good save,” she said.

  “Wouldn’t want to start a fire.” His teasing eyes jabbed like a sweet version of a sucker punch.

  “Wouldn’t want to start a fire.” She imitated him, then crossed her eyes. “Thanks for reminding me.” Channeling her adolescent self was easy around him.

  His mission accomplished, he chuckled. Still, he looked surprised about the chef delivering his meal, which satisfied her to no end. “I was wondering when Abby was going to take my order.”

  “Thought I’d—”

  “Surprise me?”

  “Yeah, smarty,” she said, adjusting her bright blue toque, while noticing how sea blue his eyes were even by spilled-wax candlelight, and how handsome he looked in his uniform. Friendship! That’s all you asked for. You don’t deserve, nor should you offer, anything more.

  “This looks great. And that appetizer? Wow. Superb.” He gave the A-OK sign.

  “Thank you. I’d love to stay and talk, but I see the room is filling up.”

  “Of course. Word’s getting out about our great new chef. Good for you, Shelby.”

  She sensed his total sincerity. The guy couldn’t fake anything.

  Though enjoying the heck out of chatting with her old friend—and ex-lover—she forced her feet to move. She had work to do, and tonight didn’t only have to do with the important task of mending his trust.

  Three feet away from his table, she heard his groan of pleasure. He must have started his meal.

  “This is amazing, Shelby. Just amazing.”

  She turned. “Why, thank you.” And smiled, and her gaze lingered longer than it should have on his mouth. There was nothing like watching a man enjoy a meal. That was her excuse and she’d stick to it. Nope. Didn’t have a thing to do with their recent kiss. Not at all. Just a guy enjoying dinner.

  “Chef?” Her sous-chef, Fred, stuck his head out the kitchen door. “Got a little problem.”

  She rushed the remaining twelve feet toward the kitchen to find out they’d already run out of scallops and she needed to prepare another batch. Maybe Conor was right, word was already getting out about great food at quality prices at The Drumcliffe. That put another smile on her face.

  Twenty minutes later, Conor appeared in the kitchen. This time she didn’t start a fire or knock over a candle. “You seriously have a gift. All that training really paid off.”

  “You think so?” His raving over her meals came at a time when her confidence had been at an all-time low. She hadn’t been able to find or keep a respectable job back in NYC, wound up working as a short-order cook at a café. Maybe Mark only offered her this out of pity, but she savored Conor’s compliment anyway.

  “I’m going to tell everyone at the department about these daily specials. Get ready for an onslaught of sheriffs and their families.”

  “Then tell them we discount even more for our men in uniform.” She probably should have run that by Mark first, but too late now! Might be hard to feed a group with limited time, but inspired by Conor’s encouragement, somehow, she’d find a way. That was if Mark was okay with it.

  “Will do. Pretty soon, people will have to wait in line to get into this place. I’ll tell the other officers to get in while they can.”

  “Thank you.” It hit like a bolt, that was how he’d always been, great at building her up, encouraging her to go for it, to run after her dreams. Was he hoping The Drumcliffe Restaurant would be a success for the sake of his family’s business, or was he trying to lift her up to get her out of town again? She’d focused on that angle herself when Mark had first offered the job and she’d taken it out of desperation. Get a job to pay your way. Get back in the game. Build a résumé. Apply somewhere else, with more prestige. Someplace far, far away…so she wouldn’t have to suffer seeing Conor all the time and be forced to remember all she’d thrown away. But since she and Conor were working on being friends again the original plan didn’t carry nearly as much appeal.

  Old insecurity about Conor always pushing her away under the guise of helping her follow her dream tweaked the special moment between the two of them, from something special to doubt. Exactly what was the man’s angle?

  *

  Thursday night, Conor met up with a few officers for the week’s special. He’d made a point to let everyone know about the great changes going down at the restaurant.

  “Come on your days off, bring your wives and families. You won’t be disappointed, I promise. It’s my second time having the special this week,” he said as the three officers walked into the restaurant together. “I’m no connoisseur, not like Captain Worthington and especially not like his wife, but…”

  “The local food critic?” another officer chimed in. “She’s probably a total food snoot anyway.”

  A thought popped into Conor’s head. Food critic. Then Abby appeared and led them to a table by a window this time. He didn’t mind getting stuck in a corner on his own, but when he was trying to impress his fellow officers, in more ways than one, he hoped for better seating. She obliged, and after he perused the menu, Conor recommended the we
ek’s special—osso buco Milanese, hands down. “Seriously, DiMaggio, it’s probably as good as your mama’s.”

  The crazy thought kept coming back. Food critic. What if?

  Conor had high hopes of getting a promotion before the end of the year, and knew he’d need a recommendation from his captain. Not that his plans could be considered a bribe or anything. The only thing that mattered to his boss was job performance, and Conor thought he’d been giving his all to his job for the last two years, which proved he had zero life outside of work, but still, he dreamed of the possibility of that promotion.

  When Abby served the appetizer, it only took one bite to prove to the others that Shelby Brookes was a chef of great talent. DiMaggio even admitted his mother had never cooked anything that compared.

  Two bites in on the main course, one of the other officers put down his fork. “Did you know the captain and his wife are celebrating their twentieth anniversary next week?”

  “That long, huh?”

  “Yeah, they’re going on a European vacation for three weeks, too.”

  Conor did not know that. Shoot, time was suddenly of the essence.

  An opportunity had presented itself that could help Shelby and him. And he had every intention of taking advantage of it. But first, he should talk to the chef, then the captain.

  *

  Shelby knew Conor believed in her, but suggesting they close the family restaurant for a private twentieth anniversary dinner seemed over the top. Even to a hopeless romantic like her. He’d come back later that night, when she was just finishing closing her kitchen.

  “Why are you bent on doing this?” She was positive he was keeping something from her.

  “He’s a good boss. Twenty years married is also a big deal.”

  “Yeah?” She hung several of her most used utensils on the hooks above the stove. He followed her around.

  “Word is they’ve been going through a rough patch.”

  “Sorry to hear that.” That she could relate to.

  “Some of the officers said he’s taking his wife to Europe to save their marriage. And I got this idea how to kick off their plans with a special dinner.”