by Iris Morland
Caleb leaned his head against The Rise and Shine’s brick wall and restrained himself from banging his head against said wall. It would certainly be less painful than whatever it was he was doing with Megan Flannigan.
It’d been two weeks since the robbery, and although there had yet to be any real leads as to the perpetrator, Caleb was still tasked with watching the bakery and the surrounding businesses. They had gotten more than one tip of another possible robbery in the vicinity, and as a result, Caleb’s presence was supposed to deter any more crime occurring.
So he told himself. He rather felt like he was like some guardian angel, except the woman he was watching wanted nothing to do with him.
He let out a breath. It was his own fault, really. He and Megan had always been at odds—even when they’d been kissing.
Now he really wanted to bang his head against the wall.
He’d rejected Megan when she’d tried to kiss him after he’d arrested her. He had to: she was underage—albeit a month shy of turning eighteen—and he’d been twenty-three and just newly added to the police force. He couldn’t screw everything up by reciprocating her interest, despite the fact that she was beautiful, with that red hair and blue eyes and even her sharp tongue. He’d pushed her aside, told her she was being childish, and stuffed every feeling he’d ever thought about Megan so far down inside he’d almost convinced himself those feelings had never existed.
When she’d ended up hating him, part of him had been glad. If she hated him, then he wouldn’t pursue her. She wasn’t the type of woman he should pursue—she wasn’t interested in playing by the rules, and he needed a woman who did just that.
He had to play by the rules because when he hadn’t, it had resulted in tragedy.
He closed his eyes. He didn’t want to remember, but he had to. This was his atonement, his sin, his secret. When he’d been all of sixteen—almost the same age as when Megan had been arrested—he killed his best friend. He and Daniel had both been drunk and been at a raucous party until the wee hours of the morning. Caleb had never been a big drinker, but he’d wanted to fit in that night. Besides, Daniel had been drinking, and the two of them were two peas in a pod, as their mothers liked to call them. Caleb had been slightly less drunk than Daniel, and he’d offered to drive Daniel and himself home.
Daniel never made it home.
On the twisting road home, a deer had shot out into the road. Caleb had slammed on the brakes, but the road had been wet and the car’s tires had been worn down. He’d fishtailed straight into a tree. Daniel had been killed instantly by the impact. Caleb, though? He’d survived with only a broken finger and a mild concussion.
The worst part was that Caleb had been conscious the entire time. Stuck in that mangled car, screaming Daniel’s name. The ambulance had arrived, and they’d pulled Caleb and Daniel free of the wreckage. Caleb hadn’t known that his friend had been dead the entire time he’d been stuck in that car until the following morning, when his parents had come into his hospital room and had told him with low voices and gray faces.
Because he was a Thornton—rich, privileged, and very much concerned with image—his parents had hidden Caleb’s crime from the public. As a juvenile, his records had been sealed, and he’d gotten off with nothing worse than probation, community service, and a hefty fine, mostly due to his parents’ influence in the community. Added to the fact that no one had seen the two boys leave the party together, and Caleb’s injuries had been minor enough to be explained from another source.
Caleb had wanted to tell people. He’d wanted to confess, to tell the world that he’d killed his best friend. He had blood on his hands. The guilt consumed him until he didn’t know how he’d survive with it on his shoulders.
But Lisa Thornton, the indomitable matriarch of the Thornton family, had persuaded Caleb to keep everything quiet. Why ruin your future over this? she’d reasoned. You could lose your scholarship to UCLA. Would Daniel have wanted that for you?
Heartbroken, lost and angry, he’d agreed. He hadn’t attended Daniel’s funeral. He regretted that the most. And as the years passed, he’d become all too aware of how he was a fraud. How he put on his uniform every morning, acting like he hadn’t killed his friend while driving drunk. How he’d survived and Daniel hadn’t.
He should’ve been the one to die. He’d been the driver. If there’d been any justice, the universe would have taken him instead of Daniel.
The only people who knew of Caleb’s secret were his parents and Harrison. To everyone else, Daniel had died in his own car after careening off of a wet road into a tree. The only small mercy had been the fact that nothing about Daniel drinking had been released to the media. The town mourned Daniel Finley’s death as a tragic accident, and then he was forgotten, except for the occasional sad shake of the head if he were mentioned. So young. His poor mother.
After college, Caleb had returned to Fair Haven and had decided to become a police officer. He’d live the rest of his life doing the right thing, he’d reasoned. Yet no matter how much time had passed, it hadn’t alleviated the gaping, bitter wound of him causing Daniel’s death.
That was why he needed to leave Megan alone. He could tell himself it was because she wasn’t the right type of woman for him, but in reality, he knew she’d hate him when she found out what he’d done. She’d grown up with an alcoholic mother. Would she want to be with a guy who’d killed his friend while drinking and driving? And who’d arrested her for the same crime years later?
Yet only a year ago, he’d kissed her. He’d kissed her like he’d always wanted to kiss her, and in the deepest parts of his soul, he couldn’t make himself regret it.
Last summer, Megan had been at a table with her sister Sara and a few other women at the Fainting Goat, laughing and drinking. Her hair had been loose around her shoulders like a river of fire, and when he had sat down at a corner booth, he hadn’t been able to stop himself from watching her.
Watching the way she tipped her head back as she laughed; how melodious her voice was. How she moved with a fluidity that captivated him, how she seemed to energize every space she occupied. How her slim fingers clasped her drink, and how her shirt rode up slightly each time she moved, exposing her pale lower back.
He drank and he watched her, wishing he were anyone else. Wishing he didn’t care so much. Wishing he could drink until he pushed every memory aside like a bad dream.
He watched as she went outside to take a call because she couldn’t get service inside the bar. He hadn’t meant to follow her. He told himself to leave her alone, but it was like a tether linked them together no matter how hard he fought against it.
When he went outside, he found her with a man he didn’t recognize. Jealousy sparked in his gut. The jealousy turned to rage when he realized the man had decided to accost her for simply being female in a public place.
“Look, I’m not going to give you my number,” she said. She was firm and calm, but he saw in her body language how uncomfortable she was. “Leave me alone.”
“You dress like that and you won’t give me your number?” the man sneered. “Why are all of you women such teases? I don’t get it. What’s a guy gotta do to get you bitches to be nice for once?”
Caleb didn’t waste time. He took the man by the collar, slamming him against the wall. He barely heard Megan’s gasp of surprise. “Get the hell out of here before I permanently rearrange your face,” he said.
The man sputtered and tried to explain, but Caleb just tightened his grip. The man nodded, and with a wheeze, he wrenched free and darted off into the night.
“You really didn’t need to do that,” Megan said behind him, her tone clearly annoyed. “I can take care of myself.”
“Obviously you can’t, if you can’t rid of guys like that.”
She visibly bristled, and he couldn’t help but think she was beautiful when she was angry: flushed, her eyes narrowed, and, yes, her breasts pushed up against her shirt. God, I’m an animal, aren’t I
?
“Okay, well, thanks for your assistance, Officer. You can go now.”
He moved so only a fingers-width of space separated them. Her eyes widened in surprise, but satisfaction rose inside him when she didn’t tell him to back away. If anything, her breathing only increased, and he saw her nipples tighten through her shirt.
“I don’t want to go. How about I stay out here with you?” He pressed a hand above her head against the wall.
“Why would you want to do that?”
“Do you really have to ask that question?”
Her eyes narrowed, which only made him want to smile, as it was the classic annoyed-Megan-Flannigan look. “So now you’re talking in riddles? Are you Dr. Seuss? Go away and bug someone else with your Green-Eggs-and-Ham act, Caleb.”
He smiled. “‘Would you eat them/In a box?/Would you eat them/With a fox?’” he recited.
Despite herself, a smile curved her red lips. “Do I want to know why you know that by heart?”
“‘So I will eat them in a box./And I will eat them with a fox./And I will eat them in a house,’” he continued, pressing closer until only a breath separated them now. His heart pounded in his ears, and her sweet scent filled his nose. His body hardened despite himself.
“‘And I will eat them with a mouse./And I will eat them here and there./Say! I will eat them anywhere!’” He finished with a murmur next to her ear, “‘I do so like/Green eggs and ham!/Thank you!/Thank you, Sam-I-am.’” Brushing a thumb across her lower lip, he thrilled when she trembled ever so slightly. And when the tip of her tongue touched his thumb?
All of his self-control shattered.
Cupping her face, he kissed her. Her lips were petal-soft, and she gasped when his mouth captured hers. But it was a gasp of want, of desperation, and it only fueled those feelings in him. He caressed her jaw, urging her to open for him, and when she surrendered, he felt a wellspring of emotion flood through his body.
He wrapped his arms around her. Not caring that they were in public, outside, that he’d told himself he’d leave her alone, that she could never be the woman for him—he kissed her anyway. Maybe he kissed her because of those things. Maybe he wanted her so much because he knew he could never have her. And yet, he knew that no matter the circumstances, she would never leave his heart.
He didn’t know if this was love. It was lust, a roaring kind of desire that he’d never experienced with another woman.
Their bodies pressed together, and he felt her soft breasts against his chest. She was taller than most women, but he was almost half a head taller than her. She stood on her tiptoes to get closer to him. He loved that. He loved how she tasted, how she felt underneath his fingers. How she responded to every movement of his mouth against her own. He couldn’t get enough of her. How had he denied himself for this long?
When someone coughed, they broke apart. Megan’s eyes widened, like she’d just gotten caught doing something wrong, and his gut twisted. Of course she doesn’t really want me. She’s always hated me, hasn’t she? It was an obnoxiously cynical thought, but it settled inside him like a scaly snake.
“I need to go back inside. They’re probably looking for me.” She ducked under his arm, but she stopped before she returned inside the bar.
She looked over her shoulder at him. “This can’t happen again.” Before he could respond, or tell her she was wrong, she hurried inside like she’d just escaped the clutches of some villain.
When he arrived home, Caleb almost considered getting drunk, something he hadn’t done since the night Daniel had died. Although he drank alcohol from time to time, he never, ever got drunk. Instead, he decided to go running at the crack of dawn until he was so tired he couldn’t move.
The present rushed back into him when he heard a smoke detector start screaming. Rushing inside the bakery, he smelled smoke coming from the kitchen.
“Everyone, go outside!” he yelled to the patrons. They hurried outside as Caleb used his radio to call for backup. He searched for Megan, but he realized with rising horror that she must be in the kitchen.
“Megan! Where are you?” The kitchen was hazy with smoke, but not enough that he was completely blinded. He saw Megan grab a nearby fire extinguisher, and she sprayed the oven that was belching smoke. White stuff soon covered not only the oven but the counters and floor, too. Once the fire was out, Megan stood gasping. Caleb felt rather foolish for having overreacted over what had obviously been a small fire.
They both heard the sirens. Megan’s eyes widened. “Why did you call 911?”
“Because there was a fire,” he replied, surly.
Embarrassed, he left to speak to the firefighters who were about to invade the bakery. The last thing anyone needed was a bunch of water damage from spraying hoses.
The firemen inspected the damage and made certain all sparks were put out, but luckily, nothing but the oven had really been scorched.
“Looks like you had something that caught fire at the bottom of the oven?” one of the firemen told Megan. “Be careful about that. This could’ve been much worse than it was.”
She nodded. “Stupid mistake. Sorry for making you guys come out here, but thanks for your help.”
Caleb and Megan opened the windows and doors to help clear the smoke. The patrons outside were assured that despite the now smoky scent permeating the kitchen, everything was fine. To Caleb’s relief, Jubilee arrived soon after, and she assured them both she could run the front in order to allow Megan time to clean up the kitchen.
Caleb didn’t know why he stayed with Megan. Maybe because he’d seen the defeated slump of her shoulders, or because she’d been through so much lately. He watched as she got a broom and began to clean up the mess, but when he saw the broom was trembling in her hand, he took it from her.
“Megan,” he said in a low voice. “Are you okay?”
He knew it was a stupid question, and he expected her to rail at him. To his astonishment, he saw tears sparkle in her eyes.
“No, I’m not okay. I’m tired of this, and I’m tired of being terrified that in the next breath my business is going to be fucking destroyed—” She took a deep breath, but the next exhale came out as a sob.
Caleb didn’t think: he reacted. Taking her into his arms, he held her close. She didn’t resist, which showed him how much she needed to be comforted right now. Laying her head on his chest, she cried, her entire body shaking. He rubbed her back and said soothing nothings into her ear, wishing he could make all of this disappear.
He eventually guided her to her office and, after getting her a glass of water, told her to sit down. “Jubilee will take care of things,” he said in a firm voice when she looked like she would argue.
He sat down across from her, although he took her hands and rubbed them in gentle strokes. She seemed to calm, and her tears began to disappear. After drinking some water, she pulled her hands away. He felt bereft.
“Oh God, I’m sorry.” She wiped at her wet cheeks. “I can’t believe I started crying like that. I’m an idiot.”
“You’re not an idiot. You’ve been through a lot lately. I think anyone would’ve been scared.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Would you have burst into tears after setting your oven on fire?”
“No, but I’d be pretty angry about it.” He couldn’t help but smile a little. “Same emotion, different reaction to it.”
She sniffled. “I’m an angry crier. It’s annoying. People don’t take you seriously when you burst into tears because you’re pissed off. Maybe I should try being like a guy. What do you do? Punch holes in walls?”
“Nothing that destructive,” he said wryly. “More like swear and yell and scare away any small animals in the vicinity.”
“I should try that next time.”
They smiled at each other, and Caleb realized that this was the first time he’d seen Megan as really vulnerable. He’d seen her angry, aroused, amused—but he’d never once seen her cry. Not even when he’d arrested
her. Any other seventeen-year-old girl would’ve been sobbing, but not Megan. She’d been defiant, mouthy, and a giant pain in his ass.
“Thank you,” she murmured. A flush climbed up her cheeks. “You always seem to be here at my worst possible moments.”
“Maybe I like you the best at your worst.”
She inhaled a sharp breath. “Please, don’t. I can’t right now.” Her voice was strained, and she wouldn’t look at him.
He wanted to ask her why—why not? He wanted to ask himself that. He wished he could decipher where they stood with each other. Every day it was like the ground shifted under his feet when it came to Megan.
When she stood, he did as well, but she didn’t move to leave. He couldn’t help but compare this to the moment outside the Fainting Goat, how the tension had tightened until it was almost unbearable. In a gesture he knew he should regret but didn’t, he brushed a smudge of soot from her silken cheek. His fingers lingered.
When she closed her eyes, he knew—she wanted him as much as he did. As much as ever. He didn’t know who kissed who first. It didn’t matter. He was kissing her again, and it was just as sweet as the first time—or second time. He didn’t know if the first time could really count. They wrapped around each other like blooming vines, and when his tongue slicked inside her mouth, she moaned.
He murmured her name. He tasted her on his tongue, and he felt her in every limb. He wanted to consume her, take her on the desk behind her, make her his, finally—
“Megan, do you—Oh. Oh!”
They jumped apart like they’d been burned. When Caleb turned to see Jubilee staring at them both with wide eyes, he wanted to groan in frustration.
“You know what, never mind. I’ll figure it out. I know how to use Google. Besides, you two look busy. Really busy. That’s cool. Okay, bye.” Jubilee scampered off, looking too amused for her own good.
Caleb swore. Megan looked like she wanted to melt into the floor. Could they never have a moment alone without it ending awkwardly?
“I should go,” he said, because he didn’t want to hear Megan say it first. “Let me know if you need any help cleaning up.”
