Conor chuckled. “Well, we’re going to have to work on that, right, Benny boy?”
There went that yearning sensation again, and that pesky heart swelling. This date was either the best idea in the world, or a huge mistake.
After fifteen minutes or so on the slides, Conor helped Benjamin navigate the steps up the other equipment and, from the ground, assisted him across the bouncy rope and plank bridge. Which Benjamin found so fun, he repeated back and forth about six times, falling at least once every time. But it didn’t stop him!
Conor passed Shelby what could only be described as proud grins, and her heart opened so wide she needed to sit, so she grabbed the nearest swing. Let go, enjoy yourself. Right now feels like it always was with him. Free. Fun. Sweet.
When Benjamin had finally had enough, Conor brought him to Shelby and put him in the kids’ swing again. He stepped behind them and took turns pushing, first Ben, then Shelby. Her boy squealed with excitement as Conor pushed both of them higher and higher. And finally, she let go, let her heart soar as she pumped with her feet. Then, pulling a trick from her past, she launched from the swing, flying briefly and landing, not on her feet as she used to, but smack on her butt.
“Are you all right?” Conor asked, rushing to help her stand. She laughed and when he knew she was fine he joined her.
“I’m not as nimble as I used to be.”
“Mommy fly.”
“He’s easily impressed,” she said, rubbing her backside and dusting off sand, and enjoying the grin on Conor’s face.
After Conor retrieved Benjamin from the swing, they went back to the picnic table to eat. From the basket, she doled out the sandwiches, and a special one for Benjamin. She stood to do it, leaning forward to reach inside, then pass the food. After Conor set up Benjamin in a portable hook-on booster chair at the table, he stood beside her, his hand resting on her lower back.
“You sit down. I’ll get the rest,” he said. Such a gentleman.
It stopped her, the offer, yes, but mostly his touch. Was she playing with fire spending more time with him? What about her hopes and plans? Her profession? As she sat and let him finish serving, placing the bowl of macaroni salad in the center and removing the lid, in a tiny panic, she glanced around the park. Sandpiper was a small town—a person would never get famous here.
Wasn’t that what she’d wanted all her life, to be noticed for her talent?
“You okay?” He asked as he sat beside her, obviously noticing her pushed-down brows and tense eyes.
“Oh, I’m good.” She squeezed his thigh to reassure him, but all it did was make her want to drop her fork and kiss him. God, the man was solid. Could a girl be more confused? What was it going to be, stay or go? Would he ever consider coming with her?
Benjamin clapped at the sight of macaroni salad and she shifted gears from bargaining over her future, into mommy mode.
Later, after they’d annihilated the sandwiches, she brought out the cupcakes, and his knowing smile drilled straight through her heart. Yes, they were his favorite. Then, to show his appreciation, he kissed her, and she nearly forgot where she was. For that instant, all she knew was Conor, his spicy aftershave, tender lips and scratchy, in a good way, chin. And maybe the warm sun on her back.
She sighed, taking it all in, kissing him like it meant forever.
Until his beeper went off. He glanced at the number.
Before he dug out his phone from one of his cargo pant pockets, he put half a cupcake in his mouth and nearly downed it whole. He dialed, grinning with full cheeks and cream cheese showing. Benjamin thought it was hysterical, then fussed to get his own cay-cay.
Once Conor made contact, after she’d handed him a napkin, he listened intently while she helped Benjamin eat a bite of the cake part.
“I see. Okay. Be right there.” He clicked off. “Sorry, gonna have to cut this picnic short. They need all units. More trouble out at the men’s colony.” His brows pinched as he considered what that meant, and her heart palpitated over the same thing. His job could be dangerous.
Their goodbyes may have been rushed, but without words, she let him know, as soon as possible, they’d pick up where they left off.
Before he left, he kissed her quickly again, then did the same to Benjamin, but on the crown of his head.
“Be careful!” she called out.
When he walked off, Benjamin cried.
Chapter Eight
Sunday night at The Drumcliffe Restaurant there was a lull in the dinner crowd just before 7 p.m. They stayed open until eight on Sundays and Shelby suspected only a few more stragglers might pop in. Conor had been on her mind all afternoon as she prepared for dinner. She left the kitchen in Fred’s competent hands, and took the opportunity to sneak over to Padraig’s Pub. There were very few certainties in the world, but the Sunday night Delaney family dinner was always a sure shot. The number of attendees might shift and change, but some assortment of family was always present and accounted for in the pub on a Sunday night.
Maybe if she played her cards right, she could become a regular again. That was a surprising component of her new hope anyway, and the plan was to not let Conor’s resistance stop her.
Clearing her thoughts, she wandered from the restaurant, across the hotel lobby and registration desk, to the pub. As always on Sunday nights, the pub posted a sign—Closed for private party.
Opening the door, she peeked inside, expecting to see Conor and hear loud and friendly conversation as the Delaneys shared their meal around the long table back in the corner of the pub. Instead, no one was eating, and conversation was hushed. Everyone sat facing one of the large-screen TVs. Watching the news. She quickly realized Conor wasn’t there, and come to think about it, she hadn’t seen his patrol car parked out front, either.
Instead of interrupting them, Shelby stood right where she was and zeroed in on the story that captured everyone’s attention.
“To repeat the top-of-the-hour news.” The mature female newsperson continued, a tense expression on her face. “An ongoing protest at the men’s colony in San Luis Obispo County has escalated to violence and riots. What had started as a peaceful protest in the minimum-security section of the west wing a couple weeks ago—a protest over decreased visiting hours and growing overcrowding—has spread to the east wing, where armed guards have lost control of the moderate security buildings. And where a dozen mental health workers are being held hostage.”
Shelby caught her breath, her pulse doubling. That was what he’d been called in for, but she’d never imagined it could be this dangerous. So naive.
“All county sheriff departments have been called in to help control the heated protests on the minimum-security side, to allow increased manpower for the full-out riots and violence, plus the hostage situation, in the higher security building. We’ll go live to the scene now.”
Shelby stood clenching her hands, dread trickling through her, tension tying her tight, her mouth agape at what she witnessed on the TV. “Is Conor all right? Is he there?” Her voice was strained.
Maureen turned, alarm written over her face. Sean also turned. “He’s been there all day.”
How had she managed not to hear about this? She needed to sit down, but leaned on a nearby table instead. She’d been oblivious, only focusing on herself and Benjamin and her job. He’d acted so blasé about getting the call to go in early, probably not to worry her. “Have you heard from him?”
“Not since he said he was being sent with the riot units.”
Riot units? Her heart hurdled through her chest, the pulse pounding in her ears. Maureen motioned for Shelby to come and sit with them. It took a moment to regain control over her legs to get there, but she settled next to Maureen.
The live action camera got bumped around, losing the shot. In the background, there were blurs of bodies tumbling and running, yelling and screaming. Then the camera straightened out again and there were law enforcement officers in full-out riot gear, pushing forward w
ith riot shields, attempting to regain some semblance of control. In the background, more fighting and yelling, and total chaos.
“Word has spread through social media and there are now local protesters assembling outside the facility as well,” the reporter continued. “Police are using tear gas, pepper spray and rubber bullets on the inmates.” The TV footage showed police wearing helmets and body armor. They panned to the gathering protesters outside the facility. There the protests were escalating with some becoming violent, throwing homemade Molotov cocktails.
Where was Conor? Inside? Out? There wasn’t a safe place for anyone, on either side. A few brave on-scene reporters attempted to give eyewitness accounts of what was going on, by getting as close to the fences as possible. Nearby protestors pushed around and roughed up some of them.
She could hardly manage to swallow. Maureen rubbed Shelby’s forearm, mindlessly, as if to soothe herself. Shelby held Maureen’s hand tight. Padraig paced and muttered. Daniel and Mark stood together, arms folded, watching every movement on the TV, making an occasional comment or curse. Laurel and Keela sat with arms around each other, completely quiet, the new baby swaddled and asleep on Keela’s shoulder. The little girls weren’t there, and Shelby figured Peter had been given babysitter duty and sent home.
Shelby decided to stay the rest of the night with Conor’s family, preferring not to be worried out of her mind, alone. Here, watching the local TV coverage together with them helped keep her from falling apart. And drove the point home how much she cared for Conor. Hours later, when some progress had been made with crowd control, but not without multiple injuries, Padraig said, “I’ve seen enough. I know Conor’s safe. I feel it here.” He pressed a palm to his chest. “’Twont do us any good gawkin’ at the TV screen till the wee hours.”
With mild protest from Mark, he turned it off. Everyone sat quietly staring at each other, the air thickened by their unrelieved tension.
“What will be will be,” Sean said quietly. “It’s not like we can help.”
“I’d like to know what’s happening to my son,” Maureen said, her jaw set and eyes tense with concern.
“We won’t find out watching the news,” Sean said. “It’ll just make us sick with worry.”
“Too late,” she said.
Slowly things broke up, but Maureen still wasn’t ready to let go of Shelby’s hand. They gazed at each other, anxiety and fear making Maureen’s normally bright green eyes dark and sad. Shelby’s vision blurred for the umpteenth time, and they hugged. Again.
“I’ll take you home,” Daniel said. “Come with us.” He guided Shelby from Maureen’s grasp, out of the pub, to his car, then after first helping Keela and the baby get in the back seat, he helped Shelby into the front passenger seat. Due to the late hour, they’d agreed that Anna would sleep over at Laurel’s.
In a daze Shelby made it home, completely unaware of the drive over. Her thoughts had gone inside, deep inside, where Conor was kept close to her heart. Once in her house, she checked on her son, then filled her mother in on the latest news, which wasn’t necessary since Mom had been watching the Sunday night news earlier. Her mother hugged her and she went numb. Her only defense. When she fell into bed, she shuddered with fear, and stared at the ceiling the rest of the night, occasionally turning on her radio for an update. At 3 a.m. the riots still weren’t completely under control.
Oh, God. How would she make it through the night? How would Conor?
*
The riots continued well into the next day, until the local unit of the National Guard was called in to assist, and the inmates were completely overpowered. It had been two days since Shelby had last seen Conor.
Early Tuesday morning Maureen called to inform her that Conor was back at the sheriff’s department, where all the men were going through debriefing and getting interviewed by specially trained officers. Shelby’s Monday off had been spent in worry hell, fighting to keep Benjamin from suspecting how upset Mommy was. She was thankful for the distraction of daily routine with her son. Otherwise she might have flipped out.
Maureen’s news was such relief, Shelby finally could breathe, as if she’d been holding her breath for thirty-six hours.
When she got to work, the first thing she did was head to the registration desk. “He’s okay?”
“He says he is,” Maureen assured Shelby. She stepped around the counter and they hugged. Shelby had tried to keep herself occupied with Benjamin all morning. It had worked on Monday, but not very well today. After running around doing errands in town, it became time to get ready for work. She’d dropped Benjamin off at the elementary school office to wait the remaining few minutes before her mother was finished teaching for the day. The grandmotherly office clerk had grown to love her time with Benjamin the bashful. The thought made Shelby realize Benjamin had never been the least bit shy with Conor.
The radio news on at the registration desk filled both Maureen and Shelby in—though multiple injuries had occurred with the riots, fortunately the hostages had all been freed and there hadn’t been any loss of life. Inside or outside of the prison.
And now Conor was being debriefed. She shuddered to think what he’d been through.
Thankful for the distraction of getting her kitchen up and running for the night, she plowed on with her day. Just before they opened the restaurant for dinner, Sean made an appearance. “All law enforcement officers eat free tonight.”
Shelby smiled when her staff applauded his decision.
Many officers from within and without the area took the restaurant up on the offer, along with many new regulars, and Shelby had kept hopping throughout the evening, until the last meal was served.
Preoccupied with cleaning up the kitchen, she put the finishing touches on her cooking station. After a quick bathroom break, she glanced out the back window and swore she saw Conor’s car parked in his usual spot.
“I’m going!” she called over her shoulder to her staff, as she hit the back door running, sprinting across the lot to Conor’s ground floor suite. She banged on the door, not caring if she woke him or not. Brian answered. Disappointment swallowed her whole.
“Is Conor here?” she asked, breathless.
“Yes.” His midnight hair and freakishly blue eyes blocked her entrance until he realized what he was supposed to do. Not nearly as tall as Conor, Brian stepped aside and let her in, and she rushed to the only closed door in the suite. She’d never been in his room.
He opened it before she was close enough to knock, and without hesitating she launched herself at him. So wrapped up in ragged emotions she hadn’t given it a single thought. Out of reflex, he caught her, and continued to hold her near.
“You’re okay?” Her legs wrapped around his waist, her arms resting on his wide shoulders.
“I’m okay.” He was solemn.
It didn’t stop her from twining her arms around his neck and kissing the hell out of him from relief. He looked tired, but gorgeous as always. She hoped he wouldn’t mind her total attention, because nothing was going to call her off him. If he asked her to leave, she’d go limping off and curl up in a cave, never to come out again. But he didn’t. In fact, he welcomed her and her kisses, then walked backward a few steps until they fell onto his bed.
They rolled around kissing and grabbing each other, both needing physical touch to erase the tension and stress of the last forty-eight hours. She pulled at his undershirt, only then noticing his questioning gaze. She glanced over her shoulder. At some point Brian must have left for the bar, but Shelby got up and closed the door anyway. Then locked it to make her point.
She rushed toward the bed to Conor, with his beautiful green-blue interrogating stare. “Are you sure, Shel?”
It was the first time he’d called her “Shel” since she’d been home.
“More than anything.” Diving onto him, taking his mouth with voracious kisses, pressing her skin flush with his, all she wanted was him. All of him.
They managed
to undress each other without breaking the kisses. She loved how he smelled when he was turned on. Her hands eagerly scanned every part of him. There was bruising on his arms and back, and he winced when her hands skimmed his ribs, but nothing stopped him from loving her. Still, she worried she’d hurt him, so she held back a little. Hadn’t he worn body armor?
She sat on her heels and studied him under the dim bedside light. He was as magnificent as she always remembered, and she’d missed him so, so much. The ache of how much translated to need.
Dizzy with desire, and more excited than she’d been in years, she couldn’t wait to be with him. Her hand traveled up his thigh. He was unmistakably ready for her.
“I haven’t been with anyone since I got pregnant,” she whispered after devouring his ear. For some crazy reason, she wanted him to know that.
And it must have been what he needed to hear, because he reached in his bedside drawer and pulled out a little foil packet, then pulled her hips to his an instant after he was covered. Gently opening her, he made the long, delicious slide inside. She may as well have been on a rollercoaster with as quickly as he pulled her to the top, kept her teetering on the edge, begging, gasping, fighting for control. But she lost it almost immediately, massively and fiercely, and so, so amazingly.
Her dreamy groans and gasps served to incite him more. Within seconds, he prodded her back over the brink, which made him grin deviously, an expression she remembered from countless times before. “Let’s see how many more you got left,” he whispered over her ear, his breathing rushed, his lips hungry.
Only he knew her like this, vulnerable, completely under his control. She gave him everything, and thought she might die from these stretching, straining moments of bliss. Minutes later, with low humming in his chest, his arms stiffened and his hips stopped, but soon he recovered their lover’s rhythm, to perfection, until he moaned and was completely lost to the moment. To them.
Reunited with the Sheriff Page 13