by Beth Shriver
Liz held a hand to her head and closed her eyes, then slapped her devotional down on the nightstand. He was on his way; now was a little to late to remember why she had quit dating.
The doorbell rang right at seven. The noodles were boiling, the sauce simmering and she had the rolls ready to put in the oven. The salad ingredients were all on the counter unopened. She figured three out of four wasn’t bad. She’d just feed him extra lasagna if he was really hungry.
Grabbing a kitchen towel on her way to the door she wiped the sweat off her face and the sauce from her hands, but not in that order.
She’d never seen Alex out of uniform before and sucked in air when she saw him. He wore a dark brown, cotton T-shirt that molded to his chest, showing every ab in the six-pack. Denim jeans showcased formed thighs, and his trim waist was banded with a leather belt that matched his black Doc Martins. Dark locks were slightly slicked back, framing his face, and what a face. She could have sworn she heard music.
Liz could only imagine what he must be thinking of her old, stretched out, faded jeans a UNL sweatshirt and barefoot. She had been so into cooking she hadn’t had time to change. But he didn’t seem to mind. His eyes sparkled as his lips slowly curved, showing off his dimple. She relished the moment until she noticed him studying her face.
He lifted his fingers to her chin, moving her head to the side. He chuckled and took the towel that she had thrown over her shoulder. He wiped some sauce from her cheek...chin...and forehead.
“Guess you misplaced a little sauce.”
He finished cleaning her face and brushed a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. “Do you cook often?” He took a step inside.
Liz had been so enamored she forgot to let him in. She quickly stepped aside. “Not my mom’s lasagna. First time actually.”
He took her hand, turning her to face him. “I’m sure it’ll be great.”
Liz stood staring, lost in his eyes for a brief moment and then caught the smell of something burning.
“My sauce!”
She turned and ran into the kitchen and pulled the stainless steel saucepan off the stove without grabbing the pot holder.
“Ouch!” The saucepan went flying onto the counter, sauce splattering everywhere.
Alex rushed in and grabbed her by the arm. He turned on the faucet and held her hand under the cold water. She sighed as the cool liquid washed over her burn. Liz felt like crying but when she looked up at Alex a bubble of laughter crept out instead.
He chuckled a little too. “How’s your hand? Does it still burn?”
“It’s better.” She turned around and inspected the counter where she flung the pan full of sauce. “But my sauce isn’t looking too good.”
He wrapped her hand in a towel, opened the freezer and took out a bag of frozen peas. He placed them in her wrapped hand and leaned closer to her. She felt the firm press of his hand at her waist. Soap with a hint of musk teased her nostrils, and his warm breath fanned her face.
She had promised herself not to let things get to this point, but now cuddled next to him it felt so natural to be where they were.
With gentle fingers he traced along her cheek. The need for self-protection took over and she pulled back feeling empty. She dared herself to look into his eyes. They were still and set on hers. He nodded and looked away.
“Thanks for the peas.” Her voice was only a whisper.
He smiled as he gazed at the sack in her palm.
She walked over to inspect what was left of the sauce. He followed and stood behind her.
“Got any Ragu?”
She chuckled and drew in a ragged breath. “I worked hard on that sauce. It’s my grandmother’s recipe.”
He swiped some off the counter with his finger and put it to his mouth. “Good stuff, too bad. It would have been great with that lasagna.”
“Yeah, it would. That’s the best part of the whole dish.”
He scanned the room and spotted the vegetables waiting to be prepared. “I’ll get started on the salad and help you with the lasagna, since you’re injured.”
“Thanks, but I can finish it. I’m sort of on a family quest.”
She salvaged what was left of the sauce and they finished making dinner.
For once she wanted to talk about something other than work. “Where did you go to college?”
“I got a partial scholarship to John Jay College in Chicago. Nothing much interested me other than criminal justice. My dad told me he’d pay for room and board if I took advantage of the scholarship. I figured I’d stick to what I knew and take him up on it. He was a police officer for over twenty-five years.”
“So you followed in your father’s footsteps?”
He nodded. “So did all my brothers.”
“How many do you have?”
“I’m one of six siblings, four boys and two girls.”
Liz shot up her brows and leaned forward in interest. Funny how she never thought to ask about his family before now. “So what are their names?”
He pulled two plates from the cabinet. “Are you ready?”
She nodded.
He flipped a plate in the air each time he said a name and caught it.
“In birth order...Barbara Dena.” Toss.
“Colin Eugene.” Toss, a clink sounded as his ring hit the plate.
“Alyssa Delia.” Toss and almost dropped.
“Whoa! Damon George.” Toss.
“Christopher Dion.”
Liz clapped her hands together and laughed, enjoying the entertainment. “I’m glad I don’t have any china. So you’re the baby of the family?”
“Yes, and don’t give me the psychoanalysis of that, please. I was a surprise. My folks thought they were done having kids. That’s why they moved. I’m the only one born in Denver.”
“And what’s you’re middle name?”
He shot her a look. “If I would have wanted you to know, I would have told you.” He walked over to the table and set the plates down.
“There is no way you are getting out of this, so just get it over with.” She shoved her fists on her hips and gave him an unblinking stare.
He sighed. “Alexander Cornelius,” he mumbled under his breath, looking away.
She held her hand to her mouth, holding back a snicker. The name Cornelius would just kill a guy like Alex. “Oh, that’s nice.”
He turned his head toward her, silently daring her to continue. “No, it’s not. End of subject.”
They placed the last items on the table and stood back to inspect their culinary art.
Alex turned to her in question. “Candles?”
“Candles?”
He grinned. “Yeah, do you have any?”
She never figured him for a romantic. But she was more than happy to oblige. She placed two crystal candleholders on the table and lit them. They were her grandmother’s and she never got them out, worried they would get broken, but this was a special occasion.
They sat down and Liz automatically bowed her head.
“Do you mind sharing that prayer?”
She’d never heard hesitancy in his voice like she just had and appreciated his humble tone. She lifted her head, and gave him a soft smile, then said grace.
“I’m glad to know you like hearing prayers even if you don’t feel comfortable praying.”
He reached for the bread and offered some to Liz. “I’m making some amends.”
Liz thought for a moment, not wanting to say the wrong thing as so many words came to mind. “Maybe you just need to talk to Him and not worry about the ‘praying’ word.”
He nodded. “I can appreciate that. Makes it feel a little less formal.”
Liz smiled as the sparks of faith ignited for him and hoped they would turn into flames.
The well-earned dinner was enjoyable despite the mishaps. Making the meal together was more fun, and he seemed to enjoy helping.
The bright glow from the candlelight outlined his profile that she admired
briefly before he noticed her gaze. Long, dark lashes hooded large eyes and his whiskers intensified his olive colored skin.
“Your turn,” he said taking a sip of his soda. “I know you grew up in Nebraska and went to UNL. You have a brother and sister right?”
“Yeah, I’m the baby too.”
“Really?” He scrunched up his face.
“What?”
“That makes us incompatible according to all you sociological, analytical people.”
“Do you think we’re incompatible?” she asked before realizing the depth that question could take.
He shook his head. “No, do you?”
She took a moment to respond. “I guess we’ll find out.”
He caught her eyes and captured her with them. He released their gaze and continued to quiz her as only a cop could do. “So how did you end up in Denver?”
“I grew up visiting Colorado as a kid and always loved the skiing in the winter and hiking in the mountains in the summer. After I graduated, I ended a relationship with a guy I met in college and headed west.”
“Why did you go into social work?”
“Because I wanted to help people, make a difference, same as you.”
He nodded. “All my brothers and I are cops. I’d like to say it was because we did it to help people, but even more so I think we did it because of my dad. You, on the other hand, I believe are a true social worker in every sense of the word.”
“What a nice compliment. Some cops don’t feel that way, like Dixon.”
He lifted his head abruptly and she continued.
“There are plenty of cops that feel the way he does. That our procedures just get in the way and add more time and paperwork to your workload.”
“Yeah, but those with that attitude have it with every aspect of their job. They feel the power the law gives them and abuse it.” He paused. “We’re talking about work again.”
They finished eating and did the dishes. Since she was one handed and he was letting her milk it for all it was worth, she did most of the talking while he loaded the washer.
“I talked with my mother today. I didn’t call her about tonight, I called her about the sauce, the recipe.” Lovely, Liz. Way to ramble.
He scrunched his eyebrows together as if confused but his eyes twinkled.
“She asked about Christmas and invited you, so you can come if you want to.” She took a deep breath.
He was quiet for a moment. Doubt assaulted her so she rushed on. “I only told you in case she called tonight and she started pressuring you. She doesn’t mean to but it might come off that way.
He leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. “I won’t feel pressured.”
“Good, you do whatever you want to. I know how families can be around the holidays.”
He looked her in the eyes. “What do you want?”
The question caught her off guard. The phone rang breaking the stare between them. Liz took a step away and answered.
“Yes, he’s here. The sauce...it turned out great.” She turned to him and shrugged.
Still leaning against the counter, he looked down at his boots, crossing one over the other, his black locks falling down around his forehead.
She held her hand over the receiver and gave him an apologetic lift of one eyebrow. “She wants to talk to you.”
The corners of his mouth turned upward as he reached for the phone, keeping his eyes on her. She stood next to him and finished the dishes while he and her mother made small talk. When, apparently, her mother popped the question, Liz couldn’t believe her ears.
“I’d love to come, Mrs. Adams.”
She dropped her jaw and a plate into the sink at the same time as she looked over at him. He winked at her and continued to make Christmas plans with her mother, watching her squirm.
Chapter Fourteen
Liz drove to the police station and parked close to the entrance. She scanned the parking lot and spotted Alex sitting in his car. He had a sixth-sense-cop thing that was annoying because she had never been able to take him by surprise, so she walked up behind his window and waited.
“Hey, Liz.”
She stuck her head in the window. He was busy doing his paperwork. He smiled knowingly but didn’t look up as Liz rested her chin in her hand, elbow on the window frame, waiting for his attention.
“How did you know it was me?”
“Your perfume. Chanel. You’re not going to believe what I have a hankering for.” He stopped writing, sunk his pen into his breast pocket, and flipped his notepad closed.
She was stumped for a moment, then beamed. “Donuts.”
He nodded with reluctance. “Follow me to Dunkin’?”
“You’re never going to live this down, you know.”
“Yeah, yeah.” He gave her an annoyed stare.
She pulled in a few minutes behind him and swallowed a laugh when she saw him sitting in a booth with the neon sign, Dunkin’ Donuts, hanging above him. She walked in casually but couldn’t suppress the grin.
He gave her a cautious look. “All right already, what do you want?”
“Whatever you usually get, I’m sure you’re the connoisseur. And coffee with...”
“Cream and sugar,” he finished for her.
She enjoyed observing him wolf down a jelly donut, a sight she thought she’d never see.
“You missed some.” Liz dabbed a little jelly off of the corner of his mouth. Her eyes trailed up to his, and she suddenly felt too close. She slowly sat back in her seat, wishing she hadn’t done the mouth-dabbing thing.
He leaned back into his booth spreading his arms across the back. “So, does this count as a date?”
“No, this is work,” she said confidently.
“That’s disappointing. According to your mother, I’m your boyfriend.” His vivid blue eyes danced playfully, and his defined lips parted, waiting for her response.
The kiss he gave her the night he took care of her after the Sanders episode replayed in her mind. It was a sweet kiss, one that resembled certain tenderness and nurturing. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
He sat back, his eyes wide with a hint of bewilderment. “Why?”
She sat up straight in her seat. “I’ve heard you’ve had a lot of relationships.”
His eyes faded into disappointment as his brows gathered into a confused expression. “Well, you heard wrong. Maybe when you first met me I dated around little, but it’s not like that now.”
What was she doing? She closed her eyes to regroup. “Sorry, it’s none of my business. It’s not like you need to answer to me.” She was as guilty as Michael, and the rest of those who fell prey to gossip, the ones she defended him against.
Alex sighed, looked away a moment, then back to her. “Maybe we just need to get to know each other better. Even though we’ve known each other for a while, it’s been a work relationship, and obviously a lot of rumors.” He chuckled. “No wonder you never wanted to meet me outside of work. You think I’m some sort of womanizer.”
Humbled, she tried to explain. “It’s not you. It’s me.”
He smiled. “You know, I hear a lot of good things about you.” He leaned in closer to her with his arms folded on top of the table.
“Really?”
“Professionally speaking, you’re very much admired. You’re considered somewhat of a workaholic, a Christian and soft on the eyes.” He leaned his head to the side, a grin on his handsome face.
She tilted her head and shrugged. “I have a hard time believing that the cops I know really spend that much time thinking about me.” She chuckled. “But I guess I am a version of that.”
“I thought all those descriptions were fairly accurate,” he said with certainty.
“I’ve actually heard a lot about you too.”
“Let’s have it.”
“You’re an honest cop, make good judgment calls, and I guess I could use your phrase ‘soft on the eyes,’ but I
think the younger women usually refer to the word hot .”
“Interesting. This has been good for us already.” He smile with relief.
Her heart fluttered in her chest as his eyes crinkled and his dimple popped out. “Yeah, I guess it has.”
His description of his past relationships hit her hard. It wasn’t at all what had been spread around, and he seemed so sincere. Now that he’d cleared up her misconceptions of his “womanizing,” she was ready to give him the benefit of the doubt and see where the relationship would take them.
She paused, wondering if she should ask him what was on her mind. She’d already overstepped her bounds, so why stop now. “Why did you leave Chicago, Alex?”
The static from his radio resonated in her ears. He sighed and paused a moment, still looking at her before getting the radio. The dark sadness in his eyes spoke to her more than words.
Her throat tightened at their depth. She gathered everything off the table and threw it away as Alex reluctantly accepted the responsibility to go on a call. She was actually relieved they were interrupted, and he had a reason not to respond. Whatever the answer was, he wasn’t ready to share it with her.
As they walked out to their cars, she felt his hand at the small of her back. Before she could let herself enjoy the feel of his touch, she found herself in her car driving to the office.
****
Alex called on his way to Carl’s. “What’s your ETA?”
“I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
“I’ll be there a couple of minutes after you. Wait for me before you go in.”
“Don’t worry, I will.”
As she drove up and down the side streets trying to find a place to park, she observed the action on the corner. A couple of guys were standing around doing nothing . One wore a beanie and had numerous tattoos on his arms. The other had a multicolored Mohawk and wore a dog collar. When Liz didn’t give them the attention they were trying so hard to get they started to walk toward her.
Liz had learned to drive like she meant it and avoid eye contact unless she was stopped. Once you did meet eyes with them, you didn’t look away. It was sort of like the rules of the jungle, which had to be followed to survive.