Cuffing Her: A Small Town Cop Romance

by Emily Bishop

He casts me one last, sad glance before he heads for the back door.

  “Until next time,” he says, and the promise of those words is ominous. I have no response. He closes the door behind him and I’m frozen in place, unable to move. The shock passes, and I crumble to the floor as a sob tears from my chest.

  What the hell am I going to do?

  Chapter Sixteen

  Ben

  “Would you like the lilies or the roses?”

  My head bobs back and forth as I consider. The kind of flowers a man buys a woman can speak volumes. Problem is, I don’t know what message I’m trying to convey.

  I love being around Naomi. She’s unlike any woman I’ve ever met, and I can’t stop thinking about her. On the other hand, I know where this kind of shit leads. I don’t need a woman clouding my thoughts, telling me what I can and can’t do, trying to control me. I like being responsible for myself. Things are far less complicated the less people are around.

  I learned that the hard way, and I’m still dealing with the loss… by not dealing with it.

  “I’ll take that assortment there,” I say, pointing to a safe bouquet with a variety of different flowers. I have no idea what they mean, but hopefully, it’s not the dreaded three words.

  I’m not sure I’m capable of feeling those in my current condition.

  The cashier nods and rings up the flowers. She slides them into a plastic bag from the bottom of the stems, the better to keep the water from leaking on me.

  “Thanks,” I say, and I walk out. My thoughts are muddled. Should I have done this? I hate emotions. I’ve worked hard to keep mine from showing, though even I have to admit that the only result of that has been nightmares, where they pour out anyway.

  Thoughts of Naomi drift into my mind. Her eyes sparkling beneath the starlight on my uncle’s boat. She looked so perfect draped beneath my jacket.

  Beyond that, I’ve had to whack off a few times thinking about our time in her office. I want to do it again. And then maybe again after that. I remember she likes to watch, and I think up a few scenarios in which I can make that happen, all the while sliding her up and down my…

  Well. Sex is one thing, but I don’t want things to get convoluted. When they do, bad things happen. I hold in a grunt of frustration. I hate not knowing what to do. The fact that I’m feeling this conflicted is a red flag. Should I walk away and leave things be? Is that the best decision here?

  I step out of the flower shop and out onto the sidewalk. The air is getting colder as we edge toward October, and the leaves on the trees lining the street are tipped fiery red. A new season is upon us, a new beginning. I release a breath and start walking, forcing one foot in front of the other as I make my way over to Naomi’s place.

  “Good morning, Ben.” I look up and see a young woman with a baby in tow smiling at me.

  I grin back and nod. “Hi, Shelby. Having a nice day?”

  Her hair is in disarray. The bags under her eyes could hold two years’ worth of luggage. She’s sporting a pair of trendy sweatpants and a hoodie, and her baby is bundled up in an L.L. Bean jacket, red plaid in color. I’ve often wondered if I have what it takes to have kids.

  Before Shelby did, she was one of the most beautiful women in town. Of course, by the time I arrived, she was already pregnant, but even in pregnancy, she glowed. Her husband is a local lobsterman, and a good one. They do well for themselves, living by the sea.

  Shelby shifts her baby in her holster and releases a tired laugh. “Yes, a long one. We’ve been up since four this morning, haven’t we?” She wraps her arms around her daughter as she addresses her, and her eyes are filled with love, even as they are loaded with exhaustion.

  “I’m sorry to hear that. I hope you both get some good sleep again soon.”

  “Me, too. For sanity’s sake.”

  “Keep trucking.”

  “Thanks, Ben. Have a good rest of your day.”

  “You, too.”

  I cast one last look at Shelby and her baby as she continues on, her shoulders slumped a little with the burden of a baby and a diaper bag. Maybe I should have offered to help carry something for wherever she’s going, but I’ve done that once or twice before. Shelby likes to take care of herself.

  I continue my walk as my thoughts linger on Shelby and the baby. She’s exhausted, that much is obvious. Still, she’s happy. She’s being tortured by a tiny little person, sleep deprived, forced to meet demands every hour on the hour, and yet she still radiates pure joy.

  Can love work like that? Can you accept the pain knowing that there’s joy in it, too? Where do the scales tip, and it becomes too much? It’s one thing with a baby. It’s an entirely different thing with another adult who can take care of themselves.

  You can leave an adult at any time. Once you have a baby, you’re stuck.

  I reach the boardwalk and inhale. The sea air clears my senses, the scent of salt and seaweed penetrate my soul. After going on tour in a desert, I never tire of the cold, clean air of the northeast. Again, I’m reminded that I made a good decision by ending my military career.

  Now, if the memories could fucking leave me alone, I’ll be all set.

  Naomi’s place is two buildings ahead. My hand is cold as it grasps the flowers, and it dangles by my side. My palms are sweating. Why the hell are my palms sweating? There’s nothing to be nervous about. It’s just Naomi. Sweet, beautiful Naomi, who has a thing for me.

  I’m one house down when a back door slams behind her restaurant. My senses perk up, and I slide to the left, tucking myself against the building as I peek out. It might be foolish. Maybe there’s a loud door back there. I don’t think so, though. Door slamming is a language all on its own.

  A second later, a man storms up the alley. I recognize him.

  While I’ve been investigating the yacht case, I’ve been looking into every acquaintance old Skippy has.

  The man’s name is Jordan Henderson. He’s got a record, but nothing that anyone could keep him on, and he was released fairly quickly after each capture. Never enough evidence to pin things on him, which is suspicious. It rings of corruption. He glances from side to side, ant then he slams his hands into his pockets and strides off in the other direction.

  I watch him until he turns a corner at the end of the wharf and disappears.

  Is there a connection here?

  First, Naomi had issues with Skippy and, now, Jordan. Somehow, she’s connected to them. But are they connected to the theft?

  Maybe she’s been pulling wool over my eyes this entire time. Sleeping with me to keep me in the dark.

  The suspicion is enough to send a thrill of anger down my spine. Still, I wouldn’t be a good cop if I didn’t obtain the facts, first. I walk around the back to the kitchen entrance, and I wrap my hand around the knob. When I twist, the door opens without hesitation.

  Seriously?

  I push the door open and step inside. I lift my feet as I step so as not to make a sound, and I keep my eyes peeled for Naomi. I step into the kitchen and there she is.

  She’s holding a clip board and counting cans in a closet. Her shoulders are tense. Something’s wrong, but I have no idea what it is. It’s something to do with Henderson. It has to be.

  “You know, you should keep your door locked,” I say, and she jumps and turns back to face me.

  I can tell she’s been crying. Her eyes are slightly puffy, the skin around them red. I’m torn between wanting to comfort her and wanting information. Naomi is withholding something from me. That much is obvious. Now, I want to know what the fuck it is.

  “What are you doing here, Ben? It’s early.”

  “I could ask the same of Jordan Henderson. What exactly was he doing here this early?”

  Her eyes narrow. “What, you’re stalking me now?”

  Her tone is ice cold, and it fuels my own anger. I want to be angry. It’s an emotion I prefer over all the others.

  “Actually, I came to bring you these. Imagine my surpri
se when I saw another man coming out your back door. Another man who happens to be a suspect in a crime you’re connected to.”

  I plop the flowers on her counter. She doesn’t even look at them as her eyebrows shoot up to her hairline, her eyes still on me.

  “So, now you’re accusing me of the crime you told me I was absolved of. I thought we came to the conclusion that there was no evidence to that end? Did you change your mind?”

  “I have a right to, when people like Skippy and Jordan are hanging around you every day. When Skippy interrupts us by trying to steal another boat right in the middle of our date. I don’t think his presence there was a coincidence. I think it has something to do with you.”

  “Oh, you do, huh? And what exactly do I have to do with this, since you’ve got it all figured out?”

  “I don’t have it figured out, but clearly you know something. Why don’t you tell me what it is, and then we can go about our lives as normal?”

  She hesitates, and I can tell she’s thinking. Since I can’t read minds, I’m stuck waiting for her to make up hers. She crosses her arms. Fuck, I’m not going to get what I’ve asked for.

  “Why should I tell you anything? When I do, you obviously come to your own conclusions. Guilt by association, once again. Has anyone told you you’re a shitty cop? I should have known better than to get involved with someone like you.”

  Her words have my blood boiling. I plant my feet and cross my arms. She wants to play this game? Let’s play.

  “And the fact that you haven’t answered any of my questions about this should in no way emphasize my point? I might be a better cop than you realize, Naomi, and I’m going to figure this out, one way or another.”

  “Well, you’re not doing it today! I’ve had enough this morning!”

  She keeps her eyes on mine as she grabs the bouquet of flowers, then she storms through the restaurant to the front door. I have no choice but to follow. I don’t know what she’s about to do. She shoves the door open and walks across the empty street to the waterfront. She turns to look at me as she holds the flowers over the sea. I’m still on the other side of the street as I watch.

  “Leave me the fuck alone, Ben. I don’t need another corrupt cop ruining my life.”

  With that, she releases the flowers, and they fall into the sea. She crosses the street and pushes past me back to the restaurant door. She opens it, steps inside, and closes it behind her. When she looks back at me, she reaches up and locks it, all the while glaring up into my eyes.

  Good. I walk away. I need a clear head anyway, because one thing’s for sure. Naomi Greeves is part of this somehow. Isn’t she?

  Chapter Seventeen

  Naomi

  “All set to close, Naomi.”

  I blink and return to the present. Paul stares at me with concern. Shit, I’m doing it again. When did I become this person? I’m caught up in a storm of drama when what I should be doing is focusing on my restaurant.

  “Thank you, Paul. Is Katie still out front?”

  “Yeah, she’s counting her tips, I think.”

  “Cool. Go ahead and go. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Take care, Naomi,” he says, and his tone is laced with worry.

  Great. Now my sous chef is worried about me. I smile at him with an enthusiastic nod.

  “I will. I’m going to do some major self-care tonight. Really get back to being me again.”

  “That sounds like a good idea. If you need anything, you have my number.”

  He really is one of the sweetest men in town. Why hasn’t he ever settled down? Of course, knowing that he doesn’t like to be questioned, I’ve never asked. I bet he and Katie would be a good fit. Can’t say that, though, ha.

  “Thank you, Paul. That means a lot. Have a good night.”

  “You, too.”

  He exits through the back door, and as I watch him go, my mind reels remembering Jordan’s grand entrance this morning. Then my blood boils, because I also remember Ben’s. That no good, mistrustful son of a bastard. I tell myself that I’m done with Ben now, and I bask in that sensation.

  Unfortunately, it’s not true.

  Even as I watched him walk away this morning, a part of me wanted to unlock the door, run out, and tell him everything that happened. Maybe if I had, we wouldn’t be in this situation. There will always be a part of me that doesn’t trust the police, like he doesn’t trust me.

  How can we ever be something if we can’t trust each other for more than twelve hours?

  Even if I were to tell him the truth, I barely know anything. It’s not enough to go on, and I doubt anything Jordan has said can help. There’s also the nice added bonus that if I do tell Ben, I could be putting Katie in danger. Jordan’s threat was very real, and I can’t put her life on the line like that.

  I turn off the lights to the kitchen and step out into the dining room. Katie is sitting cross-legged in a booth, her back to the wall as she counts out paper bills. I slide in across from her, and she looks up with a grin.

  “Not a bad night for a solo waitress. I can afford rent this month!”

  My grin broadens. I’m happy to hear that her faith in me is paying off, and she’s reaping the rewards of that trust.

  “That’s fantastic news! You got big plans tonight? Maybe a night on the town?”

  “Ha. That’s funny. Do you know what a night on the town looks like around here? A round of karaoke in a dingy old bar while old men ogle you and think about making a pass. I’m better off partying with a glass of wine and some sweatpants at home.”

  I laugh at her description. It certainly is apt. In a small town like this, when it’s off season, there isn’t a whole heck of a lot to do. “Why don’t you party at my house? I could use some good company tonight.”

  She lifts an eyebrow and leans in. “Oh? What did you have in mind?”

  “I don’t know. Halloween is on the horizon, and I’ve got a collection of Stephen King movies waiting to be watched. Feel like getting spooky?”

  “That depends on the kind of booze you’re pairing it with.”

  “Wine?”

  “Sold.”

  I lean back and feel a rush of relief. I want to keep Katie close, especially now that there’s a threat to her. Should I tell her? No, better not. I don’t want Katie to be freaked out. I can carry the load for both of us and find some way to resolve this on my own. There’s no need to worry her for no reason.

  I’ll solve this. I will.

  “I can’t go over like this and be comfortable, though. Mind if I pop home for a quick shower and a change before I meet you?”

  “Sure, of course. Say, my place in thirty minutes?”

  “Perfect. I’m so excited! I haven’t had a movie night in ages!”

  “Me either. Go shower as fast as you can, and I’ll meet you at my place.”

  “OK!”

  Katie springs from the booth and nearly sprints out the front door, her purse bouncing along her hip as she walks. I want to tell her to be careful, to watch herself out in the dark, but I don’t.

  I turn out the rest of the lights and lock up before I exit out the back. I can’t be afraid of my own back door, so I make it a point to go through. I still look both ways to see if anyone is lurking in the shadows, and I frown. Is this how I’m going to have to live out the rest of my life, until Jordan or Skippy or whoever finally gets caught?

  It’s a less-than-appealing thought.

  I shake it off and step inside my apartment. Every time I walk through my front hall, I remember Ben fucking me there, and now I hate that. I don’t want to think about how sexy he is.

  I stroll into my bedroom and make quick work of changing into a pair of comfy pants and a tank top. I head to the kitchen and place a bag of popcorn in the microwave. I’m pouring Chardonnay into a pair of wine glasses when my doorbell rings, and I pad down the hall to open it.

  I check the peephole for good measure. Katie’s rounded face looks back at me, and I open t
he portal. She holds up a bottle of wine in each hand.

  “Brought extras, in case! Have I mentioned how much I love living a few houses away from here? No need to worry about drinking and driving.”

  The thought of Katie walking home alone drunk in the dark gives me anxiety, but I press it down. I’m trying to relax and enjoy myself. I have to at least try.

  “Great! Let me get the DVD in, and we’re good to go.”

  “What are we watching first?”

  “The Shining?”

  “Yes! I love Jack Nicholson! Let’s do it.”

  The microwave beeps, but I know my popcorn is done by the buttery smell wafting through the apartment. It’s a warm, cozy feeling, and I’m glad I made these plans. I palm our full wine glasses and hand one to Katie, who has already made herself comfy on my plush loveseat. She’s covered herself with one of my most comfortable blankets, and when I hand her a glass of wine, she accepts it with a smile.

  “I have to admit, it’s nice doing something with another person. I’ve been kind of a recluse recently.”

  “Speaking of that, you know what I was thinking about earlier? You and Paul.”

  She lifts a skeptical eyebrow at me, her perfect fairy face incredulous. “Me and Paul what?”

  “You and Paul in love, having babies, and living by the sea together.”

  She bursts out laughing and holds her sides as though she’s in stitches over the idea. After a few minutes, her laughter subsides.

  “Naomi, I always knew you were funny, but I had no idea you had that good a sense of humor.”

  I throw a pillow at her, and she catches it with one hand. I laugh with her, and it warms my heart. I didn’t realize how much I needed this.

  “Come on! You two would be so cute together.”

  “We are not having this conversation. Put on the movie and stop trying to play matchmaker. It’s not one of your many talents.”

  “You don’t know that because you’ve never been set up by me.”

  “Movie. Now.”

  I heave a dramatic sigh and reach for the remote. I consider pushing the topic further, but it’s clear that Katie has no interest in being set up. What’s her story? The two of them would be perfect for one another, if they gave it a try.