Cuffing Her: A Small Town Cop Romance

by Emily Bishop

  That was it. Ball-busting completed.

  I dropped my cell phone into my jacket pocket and massaged the bridge of my nose. So many factors pulling me in different direction.

  Pride’s Death, failing, not as good as it could be.

  The media, insistent, desperate for answers.

  Felicity, who wouldn’t take no for an answer, or take our breakup seriously.

  And then there was Aurora. She was the island of sanity in all of this. A cool breeze of freedom, and even she was elusive.

  Mistress meowed at me from the back of the RV, and I searched for her in the long grass, spotting her next to one of the trees. She rubbed up against the bark, rising onto her back legs to better access the trunk.

  At least she was happy.

  I walked out to her again, drawn by the magic cat and the false hope that she’d draw Aurora out of the woodwork. I scratched Mistress behind the ears then leaned against the tree trunk.

  What would it be like to disappear and—?

  “What the fuck?” I grunted and pushed off from the trunk. I marched back to Aurora’s RV, ice cascading through my veins. “What the actual fuck?”

  The entire back of her white RV had been tagged in black spray paint. The words: Gypsy Whore, bold and out for the world to see. Christ, had Aurora found this? Was that why she’d left her RV this morning?

  I could guess who’d done this—the phrase was too obvious. That creep from the restaurant, her ex for god’s sake, hadn’t had the brains to come up with something original. This was the last thing Aurora needed. She’d made it clear she didn’t want trouble, and that was exactly what’d found her.

  And it was my fault.

  “Asshole!” I yelled.

  Footsteps crunched around the front of the RV, approaching fast around the side now. Mistress streaked past and disappeared beneath the vehicle. I raised my fists, clenched them tight, and waited.

  Chapter 14

  Aurora

  I swung the miniature wicker basket back and forth, light catching the planes and edges of the crystals within it. Rose quartz for love, citrine for prosperity, and aquamarine for truth. The expression of truth.

  My sneakers padded on the long grass that led up to the RV, blessedly empty and free of visitors. After last night, I needed a little peace and quiet, and picking up crystals from Mama Kate had helped me blow off steam.

  “Asshole!” The yell came from the back of the RV.

  My grip tightened on the basket’s handle. It was the tagger. The asshole who’d scrawled across the back of my RV last night, while I’d been asleep. I took breaths to calm myself, but it didn’t work.

  I’d hyperventilate at this rate. I plopped the basket onto my front stairs then deposited my tote bag next to it. I fumbled inside it, brought out my pepper spray and checked the nozzle. I’d bought it years ago—no easy target here.

  I brushed my free hand down my skirt, smoothing sweat away then dashed for the side of the truck, spray up and at the ready.

  “Don’t you dare move,” I yelled and burst around the back of the RV. A glimpse of tan, muscle, dark hair. A man with fists raised. “Got you!” I pressed my thumb downward a little.

  “Wait!” A frantic yell, deep and rough.

  “Jarryd?” I lowered the pepper spray in increments. “Oh, god, it is you.” I gripped the cold cylinder and stared at him.

  This was the last thing I needed. Yesterday had been a total screw-up. First, he’d seemed embarrassed then he’d kind of ignored me, and finally he’d defended me against James. I couldn’t keep track any longer.

  “Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to scare you. Aurora, are you all right?”

  I bowed my head, the tag on the RV burning a hole in my peripheral vision. “Fine,” I lied. Finding the tag this morning had been a total coincidence. I’d come around the back to throw a few seeds for the birds—after locking Mistress in the bathroom for the proceedings—and discovered it.

  I hated the fact that I’d cried at the sight of it, that it’d brought all those crappy emotions rushing back. Ghosts from the past rose to greet me. An image of my mother standing with her back to me, arms folded, guarding me from the cruel taunts of a group of women.

  That’d happened in another small town upstate. So many memories of that type, etched into my life. Judgment and pain and—

  Warmth embraced me and snapped me back to the present. Jarryd’s arms were around me. He guided my head to his chest. “You’re shaking.”

  “I’m fine,” I repeated.

  “You’re not fine, and that’s OK.”

  I shook my head against him, inhaled his musky scent. It comforted me, that smell, and the warmth, and the fact that someone in Moondance truly gave a shit about me. God, I didn’t want to pity myself, but the past few months—fuck it, years—had been rough.

  Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes. I held them back through sheer force of will.

  “Look, this is the work of an asshole. He doesn’t know you.”

  How did he know it was a he?

  “Don’t look at it, OK?” Jarryd kissed the top of my head. “Let’s go around to the front of the RV.”

  “I should look at it,” I replied and dropped the pepper spray. “That’s what the people here think of me, and the sooner I get used to it, the better. I have to accept that.”

  “No! You don’t have to accept the labels other people give you,” he said and gripped my arms, moved me, held me out and speared me with his gaze. “You’re more than what people think of you, for Christ’s sake. Trust me, I know all about labels. I’ve been called everything from Lothario to failure. It doesn’t matter what they call you, Aurora. It matters what you are inside. It matters who you are. It matters that you know where you come from and where you’re going.”

  The tears welled up and blurred my vision. “Th-thanks.” God, don’t cry in front of him. You’re supposed to be strong. What would Mom say?

  “Listen, I’m going to find the childish, piece of shit jackass who did this and make them fucking clean it. I’ll make them lick it off.”

  “That’s not necessary,” I replied, and the tears spilled over. A sob rocked my chest. I smacked the wetness on my cheeks but more appeared to replace it.

  He dragged me against him again and stroked my hair, gently, so gently. “Looking after you is necessary. Looking after yourself, too. Understand? I want to be here for you, Aurora. But I want you to realize that you’re worth it. You’re amazing, and you can’t let people get to you like this.”

  I couldn’t speak. I buried my face against his chest, silently thankful I’d put on a dash of waterproof mascara this morning. I slurped like a friggin’ toddler and cried on.

  We stood there, under the sun, with the forest at our backs and the RV’s horrible tagline in front of us. Gypsy whore. Gypsy whore. Jarryd ran his palms over my back, my arms, almost every inch he could reach.

  It wasn’t sexual, precisely, just a soothing stroke that made me supple. I relaxed against him, the tears abated, sobs slowed. I struggled back a step, and he steadied me. I wiped off my cheeks, under my nose, and grimaced. “Oh, god,” I said. “I’ve totally messed up your shirt.”

  “I’ve got like ten of these here,” he said and plucked at the cotton button-down, which was soaked through. No black streaks, at least. Score one for Maybelline.

  “Ten,” I said and allowed for a watery giggle. “How imaginative.”

  “Hey, they’re versatile, OK? You can wear them with suits and with… uh…”

  “More suits?” I smiled.

  He pinched my chin. “That’s what I like to see,” he muttered.

  I hiccupped, blocked it then swallowed. “I’d better get cleaned up.” I picked up the tube of pepper spray from the grass.

  “Mind if I stick around? I wanted to talk to you about something,” Jarryd said.

  How could I say no? He’d held me and rocked me like a newborn babe. The moment of weakness had passed, but
my addiction to his presence surely hadn’t. “Of course. I’ll make us some coffee.”

  We fell into step beside each other and circled the RV, away from the horrible reminder from Moondance. I halted in front of the stairs and searched through my tote bag for the keys to the RV.

  “What are these?” Jarryd asked and tapped the basket of crystals with his index fingers. “What type of crystals are they?”

  “Do you really want to know?” I jangled the keys, and Mistress poked her nose out from under the RV. She meowed at me then padded into view.

  “Of course, I do,” he said. “I wouldn’t have asked otherwise.”

  I inserted the keys into the lock, flicked them, and let Mistress in. “All right,” I said and lifted the basket instead of following my cat into the RV. Maybe talking about the crystals would take my mind off the… other stuff. “Pick one,” I said.

  Jarryd chewed his bottom lip and leaned in, bringing more of that cologne, not too overpowering, and the heat of close proximity. I swallowed and admired the stubble along his strong jaw, little dots of brown hair, and his aquiline nose.

  He wasn’t cookie-cutter handsome, and I adored that about him. The slightly hooked nose that accented his eagle-sharp gaze gave him character a model couldn’t possess.

  The actor reached into the basket and drew out the rose quartz. “What’s this?” Jarryd asked.

  He’d chosen a smooth crystal, rounded, pink, with a few milky streaks of white at its heart. “Rose quartz,” I replied. “It’s meant to bring inner peace. It’s also the crystal of love and relationships. It’s got a comforting energy.”

  Jarryd held the crystal out to me, cupped in his palm. “It’s beautiful,” he said and pressed it into my hands. “It’s perfect for you.”

  “I—thank you,” I said. “I’d better get cleaned up.” I carried the crystal into the RV and placed it on the kitchen table then hurried to the bathroom to freshen up. I clicked on the yellow bathroom light, fisted my hips, and faced myself in the mirror over the sink.

  The sight of my red puffy eyes almost brought out a wail. And Jarryd had seen me like this? Yikes.

  Then again, what did it matter? If he could handle the slogan painted along the back of my truck, he could likely deal with my puffy eyes. He’s not shallow, anyway. He doesn’t care about that stuff. Or did he? He’d dated and almost married Felicity Swan, for god’s sake.

  A knock rattled the front door. “Aurora? Are you OK in there? Do you need help with anything?”

  “I’m fine,” I called back. I splashed water on my face, dried it off, and examined myself all over again. Not any great change, except my cheeks had gone a little pink, too. Pink as rose quartz. My heart thudded.

  I spritzed a little perfume onto my wrists, clinked the bottle onto the little shelf in my medicine cabinet then trundled out of the bathroom and toward the exit.

  Jarryd waited for me at the bottom of the steps. He hadn’t come in.

  “Coffee,” I said, “I forgot to make coffee.”

  He caught my hand before I could disappear inside again. “You don’t have to make coffee. I mean, unless you want some.”

  “What I want? I want to sit down,” I said and promptly plonked down on the steps, beside the two remaining crystals in their basket. Citrine for prosperity. Aquamarine for truth. “And I want to wash the back of my RV later. And then? I don’t know what then. I’m still working that out.”

  “I told you, you’re not going to wash the back of the RV. The person who did this will clean it off.”

  “That’s sweet,” I said, “but it’s not how the world works. At least, not for people like me.” I looked up at him, and he towered over me, eyebrows drawn together. “I can take care of myself.”

  “I know. Look, I fucked up,” Jarryd said and crouched on his haunches in front of me. The front of his shirt flapped open and afforded me a view of the toned body underneath. “The whole of yesterday was a fuckup.”

  “It’s—I don’t know.”

  “I lost my cool last night, Aurora. I don’t like the way that chump talks to you. I don’t like the way you let him talk to you.”

  “I don’t let him do anything,” I said, and a steel rod rammed into place between my shoulders. “I don’t let anyone do what they do. They just do it.”

  “I’m fucking it up again,” he said and pressed his knuckles to his forehead, already lined with a few premature creases. “I want to apologize for interfering and bringing attention to you that you probably didn’t want or need, right now. Your plans are important to you, and Moondance is the town you want to call home. I don’t want to jeopardize that for you. So, I’m sorry.”

  “That’s all right,” I said. And I did appreciate the sentiment. It was sincere enough but it didn’t help the brewing nerves in my stomach. Those butterflies were back. They’d flown in the minute he’d crouched down in front of me. “And it’s not your fault alone. I—uh, I was involved, too.”

  “Last night was tough,” he said. “I’d like to make it up to you. Would you like to go grab some breakfast?”

  I had the entire day off today. No fortune-telling, and no shift at the Moondance Bar and Grill. Jerr had insisted I take time to relax and forget about all these assholes, as he’d put it. “I don’t think that’s wise.” I didn’t want to be alone, right now. I didn’t like the thought of chilling in my RV with Gypsy Whore painted across its side, but heading out to brunch with Jarryd would only complicate matters more.

  “I’m not leaving you alone,” he said, firmly. “That smut scrawled across your RV upset you.”

  “I’m a big girl. I’ll survive.”

  “It’s not about whether you’ll survive or not,” he muttered and brushed his fingers through his hair—gel-free, and now wavy from the disturbance. “It’s the fact that all the nightmares you had about coming back to Moondance are coming true, and I’m part of that. I’m the reason.”

  “No, ignorance is the reason. People are afraid of what they don’t understand. I’ve driven through enough towns to know that’s the damn truth.”

  Jarryd’s gaze hardened. “People are idiots.”

  “We’re people,” I replied. “Doesn’t that make us idiots, too?”

  “Well, if you’re going to get all philosophical and logical, I can’t argue with you.” He put up his palms.

  I laughed, and it felt damn good. The laugh got some of the nasties out. The mucky feeling of being watched and judged by people. By James, especially. Had it been him who’d done that to the side of the RV? It was his catchphrase, after all.

  “Look, I can handle being on my own.” Before he’d arrived, it’d been all I wanted. Some time alone to process what I wanted and whether my mother’s cabin and those happy memories were worth all the pain it would take to get them.

  But with Jarryd here, those thoughts faded away. He was so solid, so fucking tangible. I could touch him, right now, run my fingers down his arm and feel the notches of his knuckles.

  Jarryd sucked his bottom lip, tapped his thumbs together. “What if we hung out at the motel?”

  “We can’t. People would see, and it’d lead to more of this,” I said and gestured to my RV. Was it selfish of me to want to preserve myself? “I don’t know about you, but I could use some anonymity.”

  “Anonymity’s something I won’t have again. But,” he said and raised a finger, “there’s a back entrance at the motel. If you don’t want to be seen, I can sneak you in.”

  “You didn’t mention this yesterday,” I said.

  “You didn’t give me a chance,” he replied. “You marched off. Your feet must be killing you.”

  I’d soaked them all afternoon before my shift and managed all right. “I’m used to walking,” I said.

  I let quiet grow between us and looked out at the forest that encompassed the park. The distant shriek of joy from the fairgrounds, and a slight tinkling of music signaled that the rides had finally started up.

  I could go t
here now, open up my fortune-telling tent even though I’d decided to take the time off.

  “So? What do you say? What about we order some room service, chat, watch a little TV. Just have a chill day. No pressure.”

  It sounded good. Better than what I’d planned—cleaning the RV and setting out the crystals in my tent in the fairground. “I—OK, that’s, yeah. We can do that. Why not?” Apart from the myriad reasons that involved my burgeoning feelings for him and the trouble they’d cause for both of us.

  What could possibly go wrong?

  Chapter 15

  Jarryd

  The flat screen TV on the wall remained off, and the curtains, partially drawn to block out the gray clouds in the late afternoon sky, gave my motel room a sense of serenity it hadn’t had when I’d left this morning.

  Or maybe, that was because Aurora sat at the table in the corner. She smiled at me then took a bite of chocolate mousse. “This is good,” she said.

  “I know, right?” I gobbled down a spoonful myself and shifted across from her. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  “You didn’t have anything else to do today?”

  That was a loaded question. I had a ton of shit to get through, and all of it involved Pride’s Death. “No. Well, yeah, but I’d much rather be doing this.”

  “That’s sweet,” she said and slurped down more mousse.

  I clacked the plastic spoon against my teeth. “Aurora?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I have a question. I—look, feel free not to answer it if you feel uncomfortable.”

  “OK,” she said and put down her spoon. She sat back and waited, hands in her lap, head tilted to one side.

  I got up and took both her empty mousse cup and mine to the tray on the silver cart the waiter had left behind.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “What happened to your mom?” I asked. “How did she pass?”

  Aurora got up, too, but she looked out of the window instead, up at the gray blanket now clouding the blue sky beyond. Her shoulders tensed up, but they didn’t shake with silent tears as I’d feared.