Love Hime or Leave Him

by Sara Daniel

  Connor nodded his understanding. He couldn’t voice a thank-you without revealing too much. Becca could and should be with whomever she wanted. With the mistakes he’d made and the nightmares he expected to haunt him forever, he couldn’t offer her a relationship. He couldn’t offer her anything.

  He took his plate and followed Toby to the seating area, dropping into the plastic chair across from him. As long as he was focused on Becca, he might as well keep the conversation going. “So how is living with your sister? I bet it pisses you off when she acts like she’s your mom.”

  Toby shrugged, but his eyes flared, proving Connor had struck a chord. “It’s not for much longer. She’s going to leave at the end of the summer.”

  Connor hated that he could count on one hand the number of months until Becca left both his town and his life. He hated even more knowing they’d wasted two years ignoring each other. But right now he had to center his thoughts on her brother. “Then what? Is she going to leave you alone in the house when she goes away?”

  Toby took a big bite of doughnut, covering his lips in powdered sugar, a drop of red jelly oozing down his chin. “She wants to sell the house and split the money between us. I have four months to save enough to buy her half.”

  Connor blinked. “You’re seventeen years old, and you want to buy a house?”

  Toby lifted his chin. “I’ll be eighteen two days after graduation. I’m staying in town. I have to live somewhere.”

  “You really think you’re going to make enough money starting out to pay for a house?” Connor wasn’t trying to judge. He wanted Toby to think realistically. Despite Becca’s modest home and small-town home prices at a steal compared to the city and suburbs, the sum still totaled ridiculously large for a kid in high school. And what teenager was ready for that kind of commitment? “Have you thought about taxes and utilities and upkeep?”

  “I’m going to be working for Matt, so I can fix everything myself. Nick’s going to move in with me and pay rent to help out.”

  Two eighteen-year-old boys living on their own wasn’t the smartest plan. But when the time came—if it came—he’d remind the boys the police chief lived in sight of their house. “You’ve given this a lot of thought. I’m impressed. Does Becca know?”

  Toby rolled his eyes. “Please. If it doesn’t have to do with me going away to school, she doesn’t want to hear it.”

  Connor winced, but he couldn’t argue with the truth, not with her furious interruption of his shower still fresh in his mind. “She wants the best for you.”

  “No, she doesn’t. She just wants to get out like Dad did.” His voice dripped with disgust at the mention of his father.

  Connor didn’t blame the kid. Toby’s father had walked away when his kids needed him the most. Connor would like to give the man a piece of his mind too.

  “Mom made Becca promise to stay with me until I left,” Toby continued. “But I’m like Mom. I don’t want to leave. Ever.”

  “I think Kortville is a great place, and I understand why you don’t want to leave. I feel the same way.” Connor paused, choosing his words carefully as he walked the tightrope between giving honest advice, alienating Toby, and bringing down Becca’s wrath again. “But there may come a time when you decide going to a technical school or taking a few college classes might help you get more out of your life here. Make sure you leave that door open.”

  “What do you mean?” Toby’s tone switched to open and curious as opposed to cautious and sullen.

  Connor kept his own expression casual, even though he wanted to pump his fist and shout. “Put forth your best effort in school from now until graduation. Don’t get yourself into any kind of trouble with the law where businesses won’t want to hire you or schools won’t accept you as a student.”

  Toby glanced around, as if checking that no one else was close enough to listen in. Rochelle entered the store and started chatting with Jake at the front counter.

  Toby pulled his baseball cap down, so Connor couldn’t see his eyes anymore. “What kind of trouble do you think I’m getting into?”

  Connor lifted the hat just enough to make eye contact. “I hope nothing. Is there a reason I should suspect you?”

  “No, of course not.” He took off his cap and flattened the brim between his palms.

  “Good,” Connor said, not believing him. The boy’s body language told a different story, and he was still a boy no matter how independent and tough his act. “Because whoever vandalized the library will have to pay the town back for all the damage he or she caused. A good estimate would be as much as Becca’s half of your house.”

  Toby jammed his hat back over his eyes.

  “And that calculation assumes that Mrs. Parker doesn’t press charges for her personal injuries,” Connor added, worried he’d pushed too far but needing Toby to understand the seriousness of the situation. If the boy wouldn’t listen to Becca, he had to listen to someone. And whether Becca liked it or not, right now Connor had the best shot of making him understand.

  Toby gasped. “I thought people said she wasn’t hurt.”

  “If you or I fell, we wouldn’t have been. But bones get brittle, muscle fibers shrink and lose tone, and people become less steady as they get older. If you fell down in a puddle of water and had to wait for someone to rescue you while you shivered and cried, wouldn’t you want to make the person responsible pay for your pain and humiliation?”

  Toby nodded fractionally.

  “I’m going on and on so much you probably think I sound like Becca when she gets going with the exercise stuff, when this doesn’t even concern you,” Connor said, switching tactics now that he’d gotten Toby to see his point. “You and your friends left the library before I did on Friday. You said yourself I have no reason to suspect you.”

  No reason other than the emergency back door had been jammed open just far enough to keep it from locking. Anyone could have reentered the building after closing time. And Toby himself had taken a walk to the back of the library right in front of his sister, Mrs. Parker, and the chief of police.

  Coincidence? Connor wished.

  Brazen? Hell, yeah. The kid had balls.

  “Do you think I could visit with Mrs. Parker?” Toby asked, lifting his head to meet Connor’s gaze. “Maybe cheer her up or something while she’s recovering, so what she went through doesn’t seem so bad?”

  Gutsy, with a conscience, and now empathetic too. Becca might not think she’d gotten through to her brother, but she’d done a lot of things right over the years.

  “You can do even better,” he told Toby. “Mrs. Parker has some boxes in her garage she needs unpacked and put away—not as a paying job, mind you.”

  He nodded vigorously.

  “All right then.” Connor stood and picked up his empty plate, positive he’d made his point and Toby had not just received it but embraced it. “Time to get to school. It’ll look bad for both of us if your mentor makes you late.”

  “I won’t be late. Thanks, Officer.”

  Connor gave a short nod, wishing he could offer to let the kid call him Connor, but he needed to ensure he didn’t lose the respect that came with the formality. Even more, before he made the offer, he needed to ensure Officer O’Malley never had a reason to use his handcuffs and read the boy his Miranda rights. “I’ll stop by Mrs. Parker’s and tell her you’ll drop in after school.”

  Toby nodded again, as he rushed out the door to his car.

  Connor watched out the window as the boy checked his mirrors and pulled out of the parking lot.

  Jake ambled over and stood next to him. “Another doughnut?”

  Connor shook his head, hoping he knew what he was doing. The citizens and town council wouldn’t be pleased when he didn’t make an immediate arrest in the vandalism cases, but if he played his cards right, he could do the town—and the boy—a lot more good in the long run.

  …

  Becca couldn’t believe she let Connor blindfold her. She espe
cially couldn’t believe she’d let it happen with the entire town watching.

  But she had, sitting behind the counter of the diner waiting for him to create a cocoa for her. When he finished, she’d have to discern his secret ingredients using only her senses of taste and smell, per Pauline’s instructions.

  She could hear the murmurs and the laughs from the audience as the other women began tasting what their men had concocted. The sounds were less than comforting.

  “Oh my gosh, Matt, did you stir this? I’m literally chewing so I can swallow all this cinnamon,” Veronica said from the other end of the counter.

  “That’s why I didn’t stir,” Matt said triumphantly, “so you could taste it. Score for Team Shaw.”

  “Team Shaw will not be scoring tonight,” Veronica muttered, “if you do not mix everything together, so I at least have some liquid to wash down the cinnamon block in my throat.”

  The entire restaurant roared with laughter, but Becca couldn’t join in their amusement, too tightly wound up, waiting for Connor to guide her to the mug of his creation. If he followed in Matt’s footsteps and made the secret ingredient disgustingly obvious, she vowed to choke it down without complaint to avoid drawing attention to them as a couple. Blindfolded, she’d become completely reliant on him. And vulnerability had never been her strong suit.

  “Are you ready yet?” she asked. If she had to be in this position, she at least wanted the restaurant’s attention split among all four couples and not only on them.

  “Okay, it’s ready.” He curled her fingers around the handle. His fingertips slid gentle and capable against hers, letting her know she could rely on him.

  Despite all the issues they’d talked through Friday night, she still wasn’t convinced she could count on him not to turn his back on her when she needed him most. But in this situation, she trusted him completely. She settled her left hand around the ceramic and discovered he still cupped it.

  “Just making sure it’s not too hot,” he said, easing his hand out, the hairs from the back of his knuckles tickling her palm and fingers. “It’s warm, but you should be okay.”

  Her skin tingled where he’d rubbed against it. Now it wasn’t just the warmth of the mug that heated her. A fire slowly kindled inside her. She lifted the mug, bathing her face in the steam. Then she sniffed, inhaling the rich chocolate scent, of course, and—

  Connor. Slightly spicy, musky, wholly male. So close, he overwhelmed her senses. He’d prepared this drink for her, labored over it, and now she could practically taste the effort, along with his coiled energy.

  “Can you smell any of the flavors?” His eager voice whispered so close to her ear her hands shook, sloshing hot cocoa over them.

  “Ouch.” She set down the cup abruptly, sending another shower of hot liquid onto her skin.

  Connor yanked her hand away from the mug. His soft lips caressed her, cool against her abused flesh. His tongue slid into the crevice between her thumb and index finger, lapping up the spilled drink.

  “So sweet,” he murmured. Wondering whether he meant her rather than the cocoa melted her insides. She couldn’t see his actions, only feel his sensual cleaning, which bumped up her arousal. Her nipples pebbled beneath her shirt, as if he caressed somewhere much more private.

  “Connor.” Pauline’s voice cut across the low drone of audience murmuring. “Becca’s supposed to be the taster this week, not you.”

  Becca tried to yank her hand free, mortified they’d been caught with him— Well, she couldn’t sugarcoat it. He’d been sucking on her skin in public. And she’d enjoyed every second. She certainly hadn’t given a thought to stopping him.

  Connor continued to cradle her hand, lowering it slowly to the table. “The drink is too hot. It’s not safe for the contestants to be blindfolded.”

  “Should have used an ice cube as one of your ingredients like Larry did,” Harriet called out. “My man is an innovative thinker. He has a lot of experience thinking outside the box to crack those tough cases. It’s a hallmark of a good police chief.”

  Honestly, Harriet did not have a subtle bone in her body. Becca didn’t need to use all her senses to detect Connor’s stiffened demeanor. She squeezed his hand and murmured, “I’m sure good police officers share a lot of noble characteristics, but putting ice in their cocoa is definitely not a hallmark trait.”

  “Oh now, Harriet, you’re making me blush,” Larry said modestly. “I only did it because you’ve lost your sense of smell, and I had to make sure you got at least one ingredient right, so we didn’t get completely skunked in this contest.”

  “Wilbur,” Agatha suddenly shouted. “How dare you chop onions into my cocoa? This is the most awful concoction I’ve tasted in my entire life.”

  The restaurant exploded into laughter then, drowning out Harriet’s sputtering indignation.

  Becca gave Connor’s hand another squeeze and then slid her fingers free. “So, I can cross ice cubes off the list of ingredient possibilities. I don’t think I smelled onions either. We’re already making progress. If I shake my head a couple times, I think this blindfold will fall off, and we’ll speed things along.”

  Connor slid his hands around her face, tucking the cloth securely over her eyes and tightening it beneath the elastic of her ponytail. “You will not cheat as long as you’re my cocoa partner. Help me out with the hallmark criterion of a good police chief. I have a reputation to protect.”

  At least he had a good idea of the reputation he needed to defend. She no longer wore the label of driven honor roll student or cheating ex-girlfriend or pitied kid whose mother had died and father had abandoned her. What did she want people to associate with her name? A good friend and a health and fitness resource, maybe. But the idea of Connor viewing her through that lens didn’t sit well, either.

  “There.” He finished fiddling with the blindfold, then cupped her chin, turning her head to the left. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

  She stared into the blackness of the scarf. “How would I know? You might not even be holding up your hand for all I know.”

  “Very good.”

  She could hear the grin in his voice. His warm breath caressed her face. Oh yeah, friendship didn’t begin to cover the range of emotions coursing through her. Not being able to see how strongly the encounter affected him drove her crazy.

  “Take a sip. I think it’s cool enough now.” The cocoa mug pressed against her lips.

  She reached out. Once again her hands covered his on the heated ceramic as she tilted it toward her lips. She savored the flavors before lowering the mug.

  “Chocolate, of course. Milk chocolate with something very creamy and sweet. Caramel,” she decided. “Also a distinctly nutty flavor. Not hazelnut. I’m going to say pecan.”

  She froze as she realized what he’d done. Chocolate, caramel, and pecans together created a “turtle” candy confection she’d been crazy about when they were dating. Every holiday and special occasion he delivered a small box to her locker or front door. “You made me a turtle cocoa. You remembered.”

  “We have a winner,” Connor whispered, gently tugging the blindfold until it fell away.

  She blinked at his lips barely an inch from hers, his green eyes tender and sparkling as he gazed at her. She leaned toward him, mesmerized by the man she’d used to assume would one day be her lover. The dream blossomed in her again, hope and longing resurrecting in every cell.

  “You guessed everything?” Pauline swooped over, sticking her arm between them to grab the cocoa mug. “Good job.”

  Becca jerked back, millimeters from embarrassing herself by kissing Pauline’s weathered skin. Kissing Connor wasn’t a better alternative. They’d put the past behind them this weekend. But she had no intention of falling for him. She trusted him to protect the town, but she didn’t trust him with her heart and she didn’t trust herself not to get sidetracked from the life she’d always dreamed of.

  Chapter Six

  “Don’t you
dare tell me again nothing’s going on between you two. I’m not falling for that after you steamed up my diner last night.” Pauline wagged her index finger at Becca as she gathered her coat and purse after exercise class.

  “We were only following the rules for the contest, which happened to be a singles event when I signed up,” Becca said, maintaining a neutral expression, as if she hadn’t spent half the night dreaming about steaming up the windows of the diner, Connor’s cruiser, and, well, anywhere she could plausibly end up in his arms. “You turned it into a couples’ showcase, remember?”

  “Which almost turned into divorce for half of us,” Agatha said. “Larry mortified Harriet by announcing she’d lost her sense of smell. She’s still not speaking to him. And I made Wilbur face me in bed all night so he could smell the chocolate onions on my breath.”

  “Forget turning you into a couple. If your relationship can survive the cocoa contest, it’ll last forever. That’s what Matt and I decided,” Veronica said.

  Becca squinted at her, fairly certain the faint hint of red irritation on her neck could be attributed to beard stubble. Team Shaw had apparently scored last night, after all.

  “I’m surprised you were so chummy with Connor after he’d questioned Toby yesterday morning,” Rochelle said.

  “What?” The pounding of her heart had nothing to do with romantic fantasies this time. Rochelle’s single sentence disintegrated them into ash.

  “Didn’t they tell you? Actually, I’m surprised you didn’t have to be present as his guardian. They met in the convenience store. I went over for a doughnut after class, and they were at a corner table, talking real serious.”

  “You had a doughnut after class? What’s the point of burning all these calories if you’re just going to stuff them back in your face again?” Pauline asked.

  “I’m allowed to stuff them in my face because I already burned them off,” Rochelle shot back, “not that it’s any of your business. Should I tell everyone how many espressos—with extra whipped cream—you drink in the back of the diner every day?”