by Zoe York
“It’s okay, you don’t need to explain.” Her voice was soft and low, and her expression was without guile. “I mean, if you want to talk about it, I’m happy to listen, but from the little I’ve seen, it seems like you’re handling it as well as anyone would.”
He let out a short, humourless laugh. That would be a quick way to end any possibility of Karen being attracted to him. Let her see just how badly he’d handled being a dad.
If his bark raised any questions, they didn’t show in her eyes. Her gaze held his just long enough to remind him of her offer to listen, then drifted to the back of the yard when it became clear he wasn’t going to take her offer. But maybe he could return it.
“How about you?”
“What about me?” She wrinkled her brow in honest confusion.
A dozen questions slammed into his head. He wanted to know why she was cooking a steak for one. Why she was surprised at the chemistry between them. Where her support network was, and how she managed to get his daughter to talk about things without scowling. What her favourite books were and if she liked movies. Popcorn or candy at the theatre. Her favourite season. Colour of her sheets. Her bra.
“Paul?”
He cleared his throat. “You talked to Meg about books, you would listen to me piss and moan...isn’t it your turn to unload?”
She cocked an eyebrow. “You offering?”
Had no one done that before? “Yeah. I’m offering.”
“You don’t even know me.”
“I know you as well as you know me.” Something flickered in her eyes, a flare of worry. If he didn’t have a decade of experience interviewing people with something to hide, he’d probably have missed it. “Unless you think you know me better...”
Bingo. She flushed, this time not so delicately. Her lower lip sucked in between her teeth, and her eyes widened. An honest, innocent response that made him feel two feet tall for poking at her.
He leaned forward in his chair and braced his forearms against his thighs, hands splayed in an open gesture. “Hey, whatever it is, I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think.” He offered what he hoped came across as a gentle smile. “Did you go through my garbage? Email me from a fake account? Spy on me with binoculars?”
She returned his smile, although hers was more tenuous and her brow remained furrowed. “It’s just that you’re somewhat a hot topic of conversation, and in Wardham, those types of conversations tend to happen at the grocery store.”
“So you’ve been gossiping about me?” He let out a hoot and settled back in his chair. The idea of Karen lapping up bits of information about him over the checkout belt warmed him from the inside out. “First of all, darlin’, that doesn’t mean you know me. And second, it’s not something to get all flustered over. You need to brass these things out. Or don’t gossip in the first place if it makes you feel so bad.”
She narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms across her chest, plumping up her breasts. Not the right moment to get distracted. She was going to scold him, and then brush it off, just like she had the first time they met. He could see it coming and had to restrain himself from grinning in broad delight.
“You’re…”
“Yeah?”
“I don’t know. But I don’t feel bad about gossiping about you now.” She scowled, but the heat was already fading.
“Good. Now tell me what has you out of sorts.”
“I’m not—” Except she was, and recognition that he had her number flashed across her face. “How did you know that I was out of sorts?”
“You stomped up the drive earlier, and you’ve had a distracted look on your face ever since.”
“I didn’t stomp.”
“It was cute.”
“Shut up.” She sighed and closed her eyes. “I was talking to my mom.”
He waited. It didn’t take long.
“I haven’t always worked at the grocery store. I mean, I have, really. I started bagging groceries when I was twelve, and before that I helped stock shelves on Sundays. But I took a break when I went to university.” The words poured out like maple syrup. Smooth and shiny, fast and sweet. She’d given this spiel before. “And when my parents decided to retire, I’d just moved home. So it made sense to take over managing the store.”
“Your idea?”
“I don’t remember.” After pausing for a sip of beer, she shook her head. Her next words didn’t come out smoothly, or quickly. “It was their idea. It benefited them as much as me, but…”
“You think they did it for you.”
She managed to nod and shake her head at the same time, which made him laugh. “It was a good thing. Really. For all of us. They got to travel more freely, without selling the store, and I had a job at a time when I needed one. And when they came home for the summer, I could take as much time off as I wanted.”
“So what’s changed?”
“Nothing. And that’s the problem. A decade has flitted by in the blink of an eye, and I still don’t know what I want to do when I grow up. And I’m in my thirties, so I can’t pretend that an awesome life is still going to happen.” She grimaced and looked down at her beer bottle. While they’d been talking, she’d worried the label with her thumbnail, and now she peeled the whole thing off.
Paul felt his cock flex against the denim of his jeans. He had a flashback to high school, and a teasing game from the first drinking parties he attended. Sometimes a fully intact peeled label meant one was sexually frustrated. Other times it meant you would get lucky. It depended on which dominant teen queen was making up the rules that night. He’d never wanted the latter to be as true as he did in that moment, and never before had the former been more guaranteed.
He needed to change the subject. “You want another beer? I should check on Megan, too.” She nodded as he stood up.
When he returned, she’d moved to stand at the back of his deck, leaning against the rail.
“Meg’s done talking to her mom, but now she’s catching up on a reality show she recorded. I should go in and watch it with her, but watching people embarrass themselves…” He mock shuddered. “And it’s two hours long! Who has time for that?”
“Hey, I love shows like that!”
“Do you want to go in there and supervise for me, then?” He rested his elbows on the railing next to her. They weren’t close enough to touch, not quite, but he could still feel her. It was almost as good as the real thing. Not even close.
She pulled back and cocked head to look at him. “Feel free to tell me to mind my own p’s and q’s, but why do you need to watch it with her?”
“I don’t know.” He meant that in every way. He had no clue what was appropriate parenting for a ten-year-old. He didn’t know why he couldn’t relax about the new custody arrangement.
He definitely couldn’t remember why he’d banned himself from dating.
“Susan—my ex-wife—called me on not pulling my weight a couple of years ago. It’s been a rocky path back to what we have now. With both of them. And it still feels like I’m in precarious waters.” It was more than he’d shared with anyone, and he shocked himself even as he opened up further. “There’s only so much selfish that one is allowed in a lifetime, and I’ve used up my allotment.”
Her gaze was steady and pressing. He could feel it even though he still stared straight ahead. She let the silence hang until he filled it, a trick he used all the time and didn’t expect to fall for, but she had him off-kilter. She had him wanting to explain. To justify.
“I’m no martyr. I want to focus on being a dad for the next while. Get that right, you know? Besides, you’re one to talk. No awesome life in front of you? What’s that bull?”
She shrugged. “I shouldn’t have said that. My life is good.”
“What would make it better?”
“I dunno. Adventure, maybe?” She straightened to a stand and set her beer on the railing. “Maybe I need to be a little selfish. I haven’t used up anywhere near my allotment.”
>
Physical pain sliced through his chest at the image of Karen getting her wild on while he embraced responsibility. If only they’d met at another time, in another place. He’d have shot for the moon and the stars with her, and made the trip just as interesting as the destination. But that wasn’t an option here and now, as he started over. He was grounded in this place where she was stifled, a place he’d spent almost two years wiggling his way towards. They were two ships passing in the night. That slap of reality hurt more than he could have imagined.
CHAPTER FOUR
A week had gone by and she’d seen Paul almost every day. They hadn’t talked, touched or otherwise interacted, but his presence surrounded her. Even if the detachment building wasn’t one block from the store, and their paths likely to cross as they just went about their daily business, he was right next door each evening.
That made for long nights. Their conversation played over again and again in her head. The physical memory of his body next to hers, just standing chastely on his deck, fueled more than a few fantasies. Where instead of gruffly bidding her a good evening and escaping inside to watch TV with his daughter, Paul had closed the gap between them and proposed an entirely different and deliciously inappropriate adventure for them to embark on together.
Karen had never been titillated by dirty words until Hot Neighbour, the fantasy version of Paul that only existed in her head, had urged her to spread her legs and show him how wet she was for him. There was nothing imaginary about the answer, and if she hadn’t been alone in her bedroom, she might have been embarrassed at how her body reacted to someone who was so obviously off limits to her.
But there was a line between harmless fantasy and unrequited desire, and she wasn’t going to end up on the pathetic side of the division. By Thursday, she’d had enough of wanting what she couldn’t have. Ironically, it was Paul’s own words that spurred her to action. She definitely couldn’t have him, but she could have an adventure of another sort. After a few nights of internet research, she knew what she needed to do, and who she needed to talk to.
Leaving Wardham would have given her pause a month ago, but it was time to find her own brand of selfish. She’d have liked to find it with the guy next door, but he’d done all but announce he was off-limits and not interested. So the new plan meant she needed to stop wanting to get naked with Paul.
The plan would be easier to implement if he didn’t live next door. If Wardham wasn’t so small. If, if, if.
The Sunday night book club crew hadn’t helped with the distraction, either. The discussion had wandered off topic more than once in the direction of the new cop, and Ernie Fletcher took one of those opportunities to share with the group that Karen had let her neighbour and his daughter do after hours shopping. The group was divided on whether or not that was appropriate, which normally would have flowed around and past Karen as normal Wardham meddling, but last night she’d snapped and before she realized what she was sharing, she promised Ernie and the other busy bodies that pretty soon, she wouldn’t have keys to the grocery store anyway.
So it was with extreme reluctance that she headed to Main Street on Monday morning. She had an appointment she wanted to keep, and she wanted coffee and a muffin first. She’d hedged her bets and waited until 8:15 before stepping into the bakery/coffee shop. Ten minutes after school drop off, fifteen minutes before the medical building and most businesses opened. A guaranteed line, and no privacy for Carrie to take advantage of to start a heavy conversation. Perfect.
Karen wasn’t in the mood to talk. She was unsettled. Had been for a few weeks. Since meeting Paul, in fact, but it wasn’t him. It was the library, and her parents, and last night’s brouhaha. But she wasn’t so confident in her still tenuous plan that she could justify it to her best friend—because she couldn’t trust Carrie to be supportive.
Surely it should be her choice if she didn’t want to manage the grocery store. And as the daughter of the owners, she could make a suggestion as to how to proceed with dealing with the loss of their manager. They could hire someone else, sure, but why not consider selling to a national chain? Her parents didn’t need income any more. And the proceeds from the sale would help pad their nest egg a bit anyway.
Everyone just needed to mind their own business.
Because she could sense the meddling approaching. She didn’t know what form it would take, but it was close. Carrie was the obvious person to address the common concern about the store’s fate. And she would, because their friendship could handle it, and she wouldn’t want Karen to be blindsided by anyone else.
So Karen knew it was coming. But she also wanted a coffee and a muffin. Tough choice.
This weighed heavy on her mind as she stood in line. She wasn’t counting on the next person to step into the shop behind her to be wearing a uniform.
Oh god. In running gear, he was hot. In jeans and a hoodie, he was cute.
His pressed, dark blue uniform, complete with a Kevlar vest with POLICE printed on it, turned his lean length into something approaching a superhero’s physique. Tall, broad across the shoulders, narrow at the hips. The newfound troublemaker in her wanted to know where on his black utility belt his handcuffs were, but there was only so much staring at his waist that she could do without being weird. Besides, she needed to keep looking at the rest of him. Up and down, and all around. There was a lot to take in.
In his uniform, Paul was out of this world. Hot and cute didn’t begin to describe the pure masculinity that rolled off him. His expression was carefully neutral, but he’d blinked twice when he saw her and that was enough.
She affected him.
It should have felt like vindication, but it didn’t. Instead, the realization left her sad. Hollow. Because it didn’t matter.
She pasted on a polite smile and murmured a generic greeting.
He nodded, but didn’t say anything. The line shuffled forward and she turned her back to him, pretending to examine the display of baked goods. Another reason to be grateful. If Carrie wasn’t swamped at the counter, she’d have called foul on that action alone. Karen knew the complete line up of Bun’s offerings inside and out. There was no need to peer at the muffins like she didn’t know that the top row was Morning Glory, Raisin Bran and Oatmeal Banana, or the “breakfast offerings” as Carrie branded them.
His voice, when he used it, was low and right behind her. “What’s good?”
She twisted enough to not be rude, but not so far that they’d share eye contact. Eye contact was not in the plan.
“Everything,” she whispered. “But you should get the raisin bran.”
“Why?”
“Low fat.”
“You think I need to watch what I eat?” She could hear the smile in his voice and immediately regretted the plan. She really wanted to turn around. See that she amused him. Raise an eyebrow and point out without saying a word that she knew him. Let him wipe away her annoyance with a smirk and a wink.
She settled for reminding him that she had his number. “I think you think you do.”
The bell chimed, and two more people joined the curving line. She shifted forward, but he moved more, and then he was in her personal space. And she could smell him.
Sport body wash and something else. Laundry soap, maybe. She took a deep breath in, trying to be surreptitious.
“Maybe I need to step outside my comfort zone.”
She swallowed hard. Yeah, maybe he did, but he wouldn’t. With muffins, or her, or anything else. She should have seen that coming. From his car to making his daughter put oatmeal in her chocolate chip cookies, Paul was clearly comfortable with the safe choices in life. Maybe that was from his job, or maybe something else in his past, but right now, his comfort zone was exactly where he needed to be. “Risk is overrated. Have the raisin bran muffin. It’s good.”
She was the next person in line, and she could see that Carrie already had her latte in a takeaway cup. She dug exact change out of her pocket and stepped to the coun
ter. “I’ll take a Morning Glory muffin,” she said to the cashier. “And can you toss a knife and a pat of butter in the bag?”
Without looking over her shoulder, she grabbed her breakfast and headed for the door. She was almost home free when she heard Paul say, “I’ll have the same thing. Two pats of butter, please.”
Her stomach pitched in an unexpected but not unpleasant way, and she mulled over how much she could read into a muffin purchase all the way to the library. It wasn’t until Mildred waved her into the back office that Karen realized that strange interaction with Paul had completely distracted her from her concerns about the store and what people might be thinking.
The librarian followed her into the room and closed the door.
Karen dug into her muffin, buying herself a few moments to rearrange her thoughts.
“Thanks for meeting me here.” She swallowed a last bite and brushed a napkin across her lips. “I appreciate the privacy.”
“I heard that you want to quit at the store.”
“That was quick.”
“It’s Wardham.” Mildred shrugged. “And if it wasn’t your parents’ store, this would have happened a long time ago.”
Karen sighed. “I’d like to think that, but honestly, I’m not sure. It still feels scary to say that I want to move on to something else without knowing what that might be.”
“I think I have an idea.”
“Okay, so I have some idea.” Karen laughed. “I guess it’s asking too much for me to blink and wake up with the degree? Why can’t I just be a librarian without going back to school?”
The older woman shot her a rueful smile. “Times have changed. I feel your pain, sweetie. I wouldn’t have this job if I’d have had to get a Masters’ degree first.”
“What if I fail again?”
“Can I be blunt?”