“And I need to finish grading those essays. It’s going to take me until late.”
“Sounds like...” He wasn’t sure what it sounded like to him, so he just let it fade away. She laughed.
“Like an exciting Saturday night? Welcome to my world.”
“No hot date?” Damn, you went there, Burnett. Idiot.
“Gave those up. Ideas of what was hot too often diverged.”
He had some ideas about what would be hot with her. And the less time spent thinking about them, the better.
“What’s your idea of hot?” The words were out before he could stop himself.
“Not clubbing and getting drunk or worse every night,” she said firmly.
He studied her for a moment. He was wading into dangerous waters but couldn’t seem to stop that, either. “That sounded pretty specific.”
“It was,” she said. “I hate being a cliché.”
He blinked. “What?”
“The old story. I loved, he cheated. Repeat ad infinitum.”
“Idiot,” he said and meant it. Something in his tone made her smile, a kind of smile that made him feel a shiver as if she’d touched him.
So now he knew there was no boyfriend in the picture.
What you should be thinking about is why the hell you felt the need to establish that.
But there was no denying the low, hot burst of satisfaction he’d felt. However, he could ignore it. At least, he thought he could. And he’d better.
* * *
It was nearly eight; she’d been at it two hours but was having no luck at all finishing this grading. Usually Ria found her students’ essays entertaining, at the least, and truly enjoyed some of the tangents they took off on. But nothing was holding her attention tonight.
Nothing except Liam Burnett asking if she had a hot date tonight.
She tried to convince herself that it was her lack of a dating life—even though this was intentional—that had her unsettled, but she knew better. It was quite simply the fact that it was Liam who had asked. And no amount of telling herself he’d simply been teasing her about her Saturday-night plans, or lack thereof, seemed to be helping. Because she couldn’t seem to stop wondering if he’d asked because he’d wanted to know if she was seeing someone. And that way lay folly.
If you’re going to obsess about anything, obsess about Dylan. And Kevin. They’re the ones with a real problem.
That made her think of the heart-sinking moment when Liam said he had wondered if Dylan had been hurting his brother.
Which made her think of his trust and faith in Cutter’s judgment. Somehow she found that...endearing.
As if you needed anything more to be attracted to. A guy who helps people for a living, with a history he’s overcome, a sharp brain behind that hint of a drawl and a body that just happens to also be sexy as...as...
She had no comparison, she realized. She couldn’t even isolate what it was about him. Great eyes, cute nose, that sandy-brown hair, tall but not so tall he towered over her own five-foot-four. And if she wanted to delve into sex, as it seemed she did, a great body, muscled yet lean, with a backside that had her thinking about back pockets in an entirely new way.
And that mouth. Yes, there was that. That mouth had her thinking about many things in an entirely new way.
She threw down her pen, rubbed at her eyes. Glanced at the clock; it hadn’t changed. Then at the remaining stack of essays. Two hours, and she’d barely made a dent.
Of course, if her brain would stick to the task at hand and quit lapsing into lengthy ponderings of the sexiness that was Liam Burnett, she’d be further along. But she couldn’t seem to help it. And she truly did like the way he’d handled Dylan today. She liked the way he’d handled this whole thing. He’d only been at it a week and he already had Dylan liking and trusting him enough to call him when he needed help. Of course, Liam was a likeable guy.
And thinking that brought her full circle to the sexiness of Liam Burnett. And where exactly that could get him. And probably did, when he decided it was somewhere he wanted to go.
Eleven days ago you didn’t even know he existed.
The phrase blissful ignorance slipped into her mind. Except she hadn’t really been blissful. Not since Chad. But she hadn’t been crushed, either. She’d simply taken herself out of that particular pool. She’d vowed to give herself at least six months to get it and him out of her system, to get over the fact that she had foolishly given her heart when it wasn’t wanted. It had taken longer than six months, but she’d eventually accepted—most of the time, anyway—that it had been a case of her own poor judgment, not evidence that all men were such jerks.
Idiot.
Liam’s short, sharp assessment of a man he’d never met had shocked her with its vehemence and warmed her for the same reason. She cautioned herself against reading too much into it. Maybe he thought all men who cheated were idiots. He seemed honorable enough.
Like you’re any judge. If you were, you wouldn’t have fallen for a cheater.
Or maybe Liam just thought Chad was an idiot for getting caught.
When her phone chimed with an incoming text, she was glad of the interruption to this hamster wheel she seemed to be caught on. This was from someone who didn’t have an assigned notification tone, so not family or friends. She’d take a stranger, even a wrong-number text, over one of her brothers ribbing her for being home at eight o’clock on a Saturday night.
She laughed at herself as she got up and went to the kitchen counter, where she’d left her phone beside the thermal lunch bag she always used. She picked up the phone and tapped the text bubble icon. And then froze.
Liam.
She unlocked the phone with a haste she was glad no one was there to see. Opened the texting app.
Wow, two whole words.
Still working?
She supposed it was polite of him to text rather than call at this hour. He probably just had a question about Dylan or something, or he wanted to ask her about what had happened today.
She sent back, Yes and no.
Moments later the generic ring sounded. She found herself taking a deep breath before answering. And trying to ignore the tiny leap her pulse took when she heard his voice, deep, a little rough around the edges and sweetened with that hint of a drawl.
“Not going well?”
“Let’s just say I’ll be working tomorrow, too.”
“I shouldn’t have called then, but—”
“No, it’s all right. I welcome the break, really.” That wasn’t strictly true, she thought, since you had to be actually working before you took a break, but she welcomed the interruption anyway. And tried not to admit she would welcome an interruption from him just about any time.
“I just wanted to...” His voice trailed off. As if he’d started to say one thing and gotten distracted. “I just...”
Definitely distracted.
And do not read anything personal into that.
Right. Good luck with that.
Wonderful, now she was arguing with herself. “Wanted to what?” she asked, and if her voice was more brisk than usual it was because she was trying to chide herself into common sense.
“Talk.”
Well, obviously. Phone calls generally meant that.
The moment the words formed in her head she nearly burst out laughing at her own silly snark. She never acted like this. And she realized she could either be angry or amused that he got to her so easily. Given her worry over Dylan and his brother, anger would be easiest. And so she chose amusement.
“I’m sorry,” she said with a laugh. “I’m upset with myself for not getting these essays done, but that’s no reason to take it out on you.” Well, other than you’re half the reason I can’t focus, which I will keep t
o myself, thank you. “Has something else happened?”
“No. I just need to...kind of assess the situation, and it would be better with someone who knows Dylan.”
“So you need a sounding board?”
“Something like that.”
“I can do that,” she said. “It would certainly be more productive than I have been tonight.”
She walked toward the refrigerator, thinking more caffeine was going to be in order. And if it kept her awake all night, maybe she’d actually get the work she was supposed to be doing done.
“Can you meet me?”
Her hand froze on the refrigerator door handle. Meet him?
“Ria?” he said when she didn’t answer.
“I...fine. Where?” Well, you’ve done it now, haven’t you...
“The Line? It’s close and they aren’t buried yet.”
The place that had begun as a place for people stuck in long weekend lines for the ferry back to the city side had become popular with the locals, too, when it became known they had quick service, reasonable prices and great appetizers. She’d always thought it clever of them to focus on the quick-to-eat dishes people could grab in the time they were waiting.
He just wants to talk about the case.
If she’d said it to herself once as she drove, she’d said it a half-dozen times. And it was only when she was parking—a handy three blocks down—that she realized the obvious.
It’s close.
How had he known it was close for her, that she lived barely three miles from the popular spot?
“Because Foxworth is obviously very thorough,” she muttered to herself as she got out of the car. And obviously they had done all their homework on everyone involved. Except Emily, of course, since they already knew her.
She took out her phone, silenced it and put it back in her pocket as she passed the ice cream stand where a cluster of teenagers were gathered. Although it wasn’t dark yet, the twilight was fading, and she acknowledged once more how much she loved living here, where she could walk alone unmolested and where she knew that, if something happened, strangers would jump in to help. They had their problems, of course, but she wouldn’t trade her small town and life here for anything.
She nearly jumped when a figure stepped out of the darkness of the entrance overhang.
“Now that’s a great smile.”
He said it like a guy greeting a date would. But this was not a date. It was not. Nor was he responsible for the crazy places her mind always seemed to want to go around him. That was her, and her alone.
And it was going to be a long night.
Chapter 19
“You beat me here,” she said, still a little disconcerted by both his sudden appearance and the compliment.
“Actually,” he said with a quirk of his mouth, “I was already here when I called. That’s how I knew they weren’t jammed up yet.”
She lifted a brow at him. Managed a light tone. “That certain, were you?”
“That I was going to call you? Yes. That you’d come? No.”
She wasn’t at all sure how to take that, so she said nothing as he opened the door and held it. They threaded their way between tables to the back doors that led out onto the small patio, which had only a half-dozen small tables but a great view of the marina, the cove and, on clear days, Mt. Rainier in the distance. The day’s heat lingered, but she knew that, since summer was over, it would be cooling off more quickly once the sun went down completely.
But they wouldn’t be here that long, she thought. That was the point of the place, wasn’t it? In and out quickly?
They took the only empty table, next to the railing. He didn’t, she noticed, even look at the expansive menu of local brews.
“No beer at the end of a long day?” she asked lightly.
“No, but feel free.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Don’t tell anyone, but I actually come here for the frozen lemonade.”
She let out a laugh. While most came here for the alcoholic menu to numb the long waits in the summer—when you had an hour or two to kill, that was the only thing to do for some people—kids usually preferred the frozen lemonade spiked with various in-season fruits, the restaurant’s most popular summer drink.
“For somebody who was upset at herself, you sound cheerful.”
“I...feel better,” she admitted. And more in control, thank goodness. “Maybe I needed to get out, get some fresh air.”
“Clear out the cobwebs, my mom always says.”
“Exactly like that,” she said, still smiling. “Do you see them often? Your parents?”
“Whenever I can. They started taking on foster kids after my youngest sister left home, and that and the dogs they raise are a lot of work, so I like to check on things now and then. I was just back there last month.” His mouth quirked again. She found she liked the expression. “And learned I have definitely acclimated. Texas in August didn’t used to faze me at all, but, after all this time here, it was a little hard to take.”
“I’ve heard the heat is formidable.”
“That’s one word for it,” he said with a laugh. She liked that, too. His laugh.
Admit it, there’s not much you don’t like about him.
“So,” she said when two strawberry lemonades and a plate of luscious-smelling crab-stuffed mushrooms had arrived, “what did you want to bounce off me?”
He froze in the act of reaching for one of the mushrooms. For an instant she would have sworn a shiver went through his hand. She played back what she’d said in her mind. Had to reach for a connotation that might cause that reaction. Almost blushed when she got there.
But when he spoke his voice was even, almost flat, and she knew she must have imagined it.
“You met Dylan’s mother, right?”
“Yes, I met with her several times, and with both her and her husband a few. Good?” she asked, indicating the appetizer he’d taken a bite of as she answered.
“Very. What was she like?”
“Nice. Involved, which I liked. She was determined Dylan would do well at the Cove.”
“She was young. When she died.”
“Yes. I remember thinking, when the news reports came out, that she was young to have a sixteen-year-old.”
“Maybe that’s why they got married,” Liam said with a wry smile. “My dad would still grab his shotgun if one of us put the kid before the wedding, as it were.”
She lifted an eyebrow at him. “Even you and your brothers, or just the girls?”
“Don’t push me into that minefield,” he said with a laugh. “They divided that one up. My mother can guilt the best of us boys with a look.”
His voice hadn’t really changed, but something in his face did. “I gather she’s done that to you?”
“Oh, yeah,” he said softly. And then his eyes widened as he seemed to realize that what he’d said could be taken the wrong way. “Not for that reason,” he said hastily. “I never got a girl—I mean—” He took a breath and finally ended it simply. “No.”
She smiled widely at him, indicating she hadn’t taken it that way. “I gather you mean your...questionable computer activities?”
He shifted as if he were uncomfortable, as if he’d had no intention of going here. “Yeah.” He grimaced. “Ask Quinn. He talked to her. She thought he was letting me off too easy when he offered me a job instead of pressing charges and sending me to jail.”
Ria blinked. “Wow. Tough love.”
“Yeah.” He smiled then. “I didn’t think so at the time, but it was love. Best thing they could have done to make sure I stayed on the right path.”
“It must have been hard for them. To see you in trouble and not step in.”
“Quinn told me later—much later—that
my mother chewed him out pretty hard, made him swear he’d make me keep my nose clean. Said half the reason he pushed me so hard was to make sure he didn’t let her down.”
“Your mother must be quite something.”
“She is. So’s the old man. Raised five kids with practically nothing and we’ve all turned out okay.” He grinned then. “Dad says they were just investing in their own future, since we can all help to take care of them now. We updated the house last year. This year we’re doing the kennels.”
She smiled. “I’m glad.” Obviously whomever he’d lost in his life, whoever had died to put that understanding of Dylan’s situation in him, it wasn’t a parent or a sibling.
He looked at her for a moment. “Mom always wanted to be a teacher.”
“Sounds to me like she is.”
He smiled widely at that. “Yes. She is.” He studied her for a moment, glancing at her earrings before saying, “Your family is Connelly Hardware.”
She nodded, not surprised that he knew. That was Foxworth thoroughness. “That’s us. Our slogan, ‘We help people who build and fix things,’ was my grandfather’s motto. My great-grandfather built the first store, Grandpa expanded it and now my parents run the chain.”
“But you never had the urge?”
“To go into the family business? No. One of my brothers is the accountant, so he’s holding up the family honor for the next gen. And Grandpa’s always available for advice.”
“He’s still...with you?”
She smiled. “Alive and kicking in the literal sense. I’m very lucky.” She looked up from her lemonade, met his gaze. “That’s one reason I’m glad you’re on this. You understand. I’ve never lost anyone close to me, so it’s still...theoretical for me.”
She hadn’t really meant it to encourage him to talk about who had taught him that harsh lesson. Which was a good thing, since he was suddenly concentrating on the last stuffed mushroom, neatly cutting it in half as if the fate of the world depended on getting it exactly even. So whatever it was, it was buried deep, and she told herself he had every right to keep it there. With an effort she made herself go back to what she assumed was the matter at hand.
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