by L. L. Akers
All she felt when she looked at Emma was pride—pride that she’d overcome her past and remade herself. She hadn’t let her childhood ruin her. Emma hadn’t just survived; she’d thrived.
Olivia didn’t have the heart to lecture her right now; it could wait.
“You do look pretty hot to have spent the night in jail, little sister. I’m jealous. Is that wrong?” Olivia joked.
“No, it’s fine. I just love being the target of envy,” Emma snapped back at her as she rolled her eyes and walked toward the door that would lead her home.
CHAPTER 9
EMMA rushed into class seconds before the final bell rang. Her head still ached and her body was sore from the concrete floor she’d made her bed on the night before. She’d barely had time to get a shower and gather her things before rushing off to school.
She was a junior in college and having to work her way through, relying upon her part-time job as well as several grants. She was almost through her third year and it would be a waste of her hard-earned money if she screwed it up.
Just as she slid into her seat, she heard someone behind her loudly clear his throat. Emma ignored it. Probably someone just literally clearing their throat. She tried to quietly unzip her backpack and remove her book and notes before the professor noticed her empty desktop and chose her to pick on during class, hoping to trip her up. She didn’t need the extra attention today. She just wanted to blend in and get through the day. She’d called out of work tonight, which was unusual for her, but she was too tired. She planned to go straight home to bed for some much-needed sleep in her own comfy bed, as soon as she finished an errand at Gabby’s house.
She fumbled through the bag, looking for the notes she had worked on yesterday. She’d known there was to be a quiz today, and the professor allowed notes, so she’d spent over an hour outlining pertinent information from the assigned chapters before she’d gone out. She’d done the work, but she couldn’t find it.
“Shit,” she whispered to herself. They weren’t in her bag. She stopped looking in the bag for a moment and leaned her head back, blowing out a frustrated breath. She remembered the notes were still on the table. She’d never put them in her bag. Dammit.
She felt a gentle poke on her shoulder.
“What?” she hissed while turning around to see who was bothering her.
She froze. Officer Rowan was sitting directly behind her, in street clothes—college guy clothes—holding out a sheet of paper. What is he doing here? she wondered. Am I under some sort of freaking surveillance or what?
“It looks like you can’t find your notes. You can use mine. I know the material. I’ve already taken this class once,” he whispered, still holding the paper out to her.
Emma was speechless, trying to understand.
“What are you doing here?” she finally whispered back.
“I sit here every day. You’ve just never noticed. I’m retaking this class to bring up my GPA before I graduate this year. I got a C last time. That’s unacceptable.”
“I’ve... never... seen you here before,” Emma said, completely baffled.
“I know... Like I said, you’ve never looked,” he answered, smiling. “I’ve seen you. But I swear I didn’t know it was you when I pulled you over last night. I was just doing my job.”
Wow. Same guy, but in regular clothes and a smile, he looked like just another guy on campus. Well, actually better than most of the guys on campus. His serious demeanor last night hid a set of unbelievably sexy dimples that now pulled her eyes to his mouth, something else she didn’t notice last night... or this morning: full lips and really white teeth. She couldn’t help but notice they weren’t perfect; one front tooth barely overtook the other, pushing all four of his front teeth out of alignment and crowding them just a little, giving him a boyish and mischievous look. His short hair wasn’t neatly combed as it was while he was in uniform, but rather messed up on top, adding a tousled look to his shocking casual appearance.
Emma’s was drawn to the sparkle in his sexy gray eyes—eyes that Emma couldn’t seem to look away from. She’d never seen gray eyes before. She squinted and looked closer, thinking they must be blue. No, they are gray... smoldering gray with flecks of gold. And omigod, those eyelashes... thick and dark. He’s seriously got the most gorgeous eyes.
“You’re definitely seeing me now. Seen enough yet?” he asked and winked.
She shook herself out of her stupor and quickly snatched the paper, turning around before he could see the burn she felt on her cheeks. She mumbled a thank you from over her shoulder, staring down at the neat writing, outlining the chapters, much the same as hers she’d worked on the night before. The words weren’t registering; they were blurred as she went back through her memory, trying to place him anywhere other than in his uniform the night before. She really hadn’t ever noticed him before. Then again, she never really took notice of any of the guys—or girls. She had no interest in anything except her family, her studies, and her job. She didn’t have time for anything else. Besides, all that other stuff wasn’t for her. She avoided it. She wasn’t the typical college girl. Until she had made something out of herself—or remade—she didn’t want to share her time or her life with anyone new. She was still working on putting the past behind her and working on the new and improved Emma.
As her vision cleared and the words he’d written came into focus, she saw his name on the top of the paper: Dusty Rowan. Dusty... she liked that. It fit his non-cop look. Maybe even “Dust.” That would be a cool nickname, especially with his sexy gray eyes to match.
Emma slightly shook her head again, too amazed at the coincidence to wrap her brain around it, and tried to get her thoughts off the sexy cop/student behind her and onto concentrating on the notes. This changed nothing. He was still a cop, and she wasn’t interested in him even if he hadn’t been the cop to arrest her. She’d give him his notes back after class and go on about her life. Hopefully, she wouldn’t have to face him again until her court date, which would be extremely awkward if they became friends. Best to walk away and pretend he was still just a cop. Her life had too many complications as it was.
CHAPTER 10
Squeak...
The floor under the legs of the desk protested to Emma’s quick exit. As soon as the class was over, she’d shoved her things into her bag and abruptly stood up, inadvertently shoving her desk into Officer Rowan’s behind her.
“Sorry about that. Here’s your notes. Thank you,” she said as she slid his paper onto his desk and in one quick movement, twirled around and headed toward the door.
“Wait! Emma!” Dusty said loudly—too loudly. Now everyone who hadn’t made it out the door yet was looking from her to Dusty, drawing unwanted attention her way.
She didn’t want him to keep yelling at her to stop once she was out in the hall with so many other people to notice her, so her only choice was to turn around and wait for him. She stopped abruptly, quickly turning around, hoping her posture and attitude gave him a clue she didn’t want to chat about her arrest while at school, or anyplace else for that matter.
“What?” she whispered loudly. “Do you want to conduct a field sobriety test? Make me say the alphabet backward?”
Dusty lumbered and bumbled through the narrow aisle of desks, first bumping his leg, then his backpack against one desk or the other, again and again, as he hurried to talk to her. He didn’t look fazed by her snappish attitude. He was smiling again, flashing those dimples at her, looking like a good-humored, bungling giant in this crowded classroom.
Finally he stood directly in front of her. She had to look up—way up—to see his face. She could smell him, something else she hadn’t noticed last night, and he smelled good. She sniffed, closing her eyes as she breathed in his scent, a strange spicy combination of rosemary and white pepper with a trace of sandalwood. Sometimes Emma’s sensitive nose could be a blessing. This was the best thing she’d smelled in a long time—especially after her ordeal last ni
ght in the accommodations he had provided her—and his smell calmed and made her senses tingle all at once.
She opened her eyes and realized he’d been standing there watching her smell him with her eyes closed for far longer than it took to blink. How embarrassing... she thought. What is it with this guy always seeming to capture me in an awkward situation?
“I said what?” Emma snapped, having to force her voice to sound irritated.
“Umm... I just wanted to say sorry. You know, for umm... having to arrest you last night,” he said sheepishly. “But it is my job. I hope there are no hard feelings.”
Emma studied his face, looking for any sign of arrogance or superiority that she would assume would come from a cop facing someone they’d had to use their power against, costing that person God only knows how much. But all she saw was friendliness with maybe a little regret. She decided to let him off the hook. She was no fan of drunk drivers either and still couldn’t believe she now was one. She knew it was her own fault and took full responsibility.
She gave him a small smile—a closed-mouth smile with no teeth but still a smile—and a slight nod.
“Thank you,” she said.
“Thank you? Umm... for what?” he asked, confused.
“Thank you for apologizing. It won’t make a difference in the long run. Or on my day in court. But thank you for being sorry.”
Emma watched his face transform from confused to hopeful, and instantly regretted her answer. She could feel it coming.
“Oh. Okay. Well, umm, you want to get a coffee or something?”
Bam. There it was: the pick-up line. She couldn’t believe it. He actually thought an apology would get him a hook-up? Seriously? Even if he hadn’t been the cop that arrested her, she still wasn’t interested. She had no time for chatting and sipping overpriced coffee while trying to blend into the cool crowd. She wasn’t like most of the college crowd. She had obligations... and her studies and a job. But right now at the top of her list was the latest family crisis to deal with. Besides, if he really knew her, he wouldn’t be asking her out. He was way out of her league. She could feel the discomfort by the warm flush creeping up her neck.
“Umm...” she said, hiding her own embarrassment by mimicking his irritating repetitive “um’s,” and pasting a big fake smile on her face. “That would be a no.”
She watched his face transform back from hopeful to confused, and walked off leaving him standing there, feeling a bit bad about the hard letdown, but she didn’t know this guy and didn’t want to. He would just find out later he was too good for her. Over the last few years, she’d found it was best to be quick about it—and even a little mean. It kept them from asking again, and her having to go through the same awkwardness of saying no. Or worse, saying yes, only to be embarrassed by someone running into them and reminding her that she was “that girl.”
But she wasn’t that girl anymore. She was very different from that girl. But until she actually graduated college and really accomplished something, she didn’t feel like she could convince anyone else. She no longer living in that crappy trailer, unaware of what was going on around her because she was drunk, but she still felt like she had to do more to prove herself to be someone new. That girl was long gone, but not forgotten in this small town.
“Dammit!”
Emma kicked the tire of her car and smacked the hood. Her driver’s door was hanging open and Dusty could see her bag thrown into the passenger seat. He thought about walking on by, after having just received that cold response from her, but he couldn’t help himself. Even off the clock... protect and serve.
“What’s the problem? Car won’t start?” he asked.
“Yes, the car started... and I drove off minutes before you got here on my way to a very important errand. That’s why you don’t see me standing here with my hood up in this friggin’ parking lot, Einstein!” Emma snapped sarcastically as she whipped around to face him.
Whoa! Again, he was seeing a handful of firecracker in this girl. He wasn’t sure whether to back away slowly and try to delete the last twenty-four hours out of his mind, or to jump in with both feet and feel the heat.
Before he could respond, Emma hung her head and apologized. “I’m sorry. That was rude. I’m just really stressed out and tired.”
While he debated offering his help, she bent over, reaching through the driver’s door to grab her purse from the floor on the opposite side. She looked even better in jeans than she did in that little sundress she’d worn the night before; with that view, it was decided.
“Let me take a look. Maybe I can help,” he offered.
Emma dug in her purse, not finding what she was looking for right away. “No. It’s okay. I’ll call someone if I can find my damn phone.”
“I don’t mind at all. I know a little about cars,” he again offered.
Emma stopped digging for the phone and looked at him. She sucked in and then blew out a deep breath. “Okay, if you don’t mind. I am really in a hurry and don’t have time to wait for someone to come and get me,” she answered.
Dusty dropped his backpack on the ground and walked over to peek under the hood. He poked and prodded a few things—of which he had no clue what—and hmm’d a few times for good measure. Then he stepped around Emma, slid into the driver’s seat, and attempted to start the car. He got nothing.
Emma stood with her hands on her hips, one eyebrow arched, seeming to be waiting for him to work some type of mechanical magic usually reserved for all guys—or so that’s what the ladies usually thought.
He stepped out and gave Emma a very serious look.
“What’s wrong with it?” she asked nervously and then chewed on her lip, waiting for the diagnosis.
Dusty almost came undone watching her chew that lip again.
“I’ve got good news and bad news,” he said. “The good news is I have a perfectly good-running car right there across the parking lot and I’ll be happy to run you to your errand if you’re in a hurry. The bad news is I don’t know shit about cars.”
Emma tilted her head and blew out her breath in a grunt at him and then laughed. “Seriously?”
“Seriously,” he answered meekly, giving her a half smile, surprised to finally hear the sound of her laugh and hoping for her forgiveness for his lack of manly mechanical skills. He really did want to help; this wasn’t another attempt to hook up with Emma. He would’ve tried to help anyone—but cars were not his thing.
“Okay. You’re a cop, so I’m assuming I can trust you. I really do need to get to my sister’s house in a hurry. And I won’t be there long. So if you could just wait for me and then bring me back here, I’ll call someone to come look at the car—someone who knows something about cars,” she added, laughing again.
“Cool. I’ll take you. No problem,” Dusty answered while walking over to slam the hood shut. He grabbed his backpack off the ground and was heading toward the other side of the parking lot in a quick walk.
Emma quickly shut the door of her car and locked it and had to run to catch up to Dusty’s long strides.
“Oh, crap,” Emma nearly shouted.
“What?”
“That’s your patrol car you’re headed for, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, so?”
Emma huffed. “I don’t want to ride in a patrol car to my sister’s house. I’m in enough trouble with them as it is. If they see the car, they’ll freak out!”
“Oh. Well, that’s what I’m driving today, so if you want a ride... this is it,” he said as he made it to the car and opened the passenger door, gallantly holding his hand out as if to welcome her in.
Emma stood with her hand on her hip, looking up into the sky and shaking her head, as if the answer were there. Finally, she answered, “Okay, there shouldn’t be anyone there anyway.”
Dusty waited for her to settle in and then shut the door, moving to the other side and climbing into his own seat. He looked over at Emma, giving her a big grin, and said, “Click it o
r ticket!”
“Very funny,” Emma answered as she yanked the seatbelt and clicked it in place. “You’re off duty. You can’t ticket me.”
“Yep. I can, actually,” he answered with a wink.
“So... let me get this straight,” Dusty said. “You’re going into your sister’s house—not the one that picked you up at the station—but her twin, to raid her husband’s closet, and you have to hurry and do it before she gets home?”
“That’s right, Officer Rowan,” Emma answered distractedly while texting Gabby to see if she was still at work.
“Call me Dusty. And why is this seeming more like a breaking and entering, and possibly theft, than the urgent errand you originally led me to believe? Does your boyfriend not have enough money to buy his own clothes?” Dusty asked, trying to pull the information out of Emma as they were making their way up Gabby’s street.
Emma’s phone chirped. She quickly read the text and breathed a sigh of relief. “Cool, she’s still at work. Come on, it’s the next driveway on the right.”
“Again, Emma. Before we... I mean you—definitely you—do this, can you explain a little more to me?”
Emma knew she couldn’t, or shouldn’t, explain anything to Dusty about her family’s business, especially their current crisis. She would just have to give him the short version, although it wasn’t the whole truth—it would have to do.
“In a nutshell, Gabby and her husband, Jake, were in a terrible car crash a few months ago. She had a head injury and has been diagnosed with PTSD. Some days she’s fine, but not many. She’s grieving for him and teetering on the edge. Since she got out of the hospital, she refuses to listen to reason—she functions, and she went back to work where she does okay there too, but she’s still in denial. Our family has been told by her doctor to stop trying to reason with her for now, just try to be supportive and keep a close eye on her,” Emma explained, hoping it would be enough to stop any more questions.
