She shrugged with more nonchalance than she felt. “This Creeper of a guy was hitting on me, and Ty stepped in pretending to be my date.”
“Wait…like he did when you met in in high school?”
He’d done the exact same thing at a homecoming dance their sophomore year of high school, cementing his place as her first official hero. “It was a very déja vu situation, except that he didn’t hesitate when I kissed him this time.’’
No, where the boy had frozen when she’d laid one on him to sell the fiction he’d presented, the man had pulled her in and laid waste to her defenses with a kiss that had been playing on her highlight reel of the night. It was a helluva lengthy reel.
“Oh my god! It’s like something out of one of your novels!”
It was, indeed. And that was part of the problem.
“What happened next?” Emerson demanded.
Eighteen years of wanting and wondering made me stupid.
“Creep went away, we danced, then walked down memory lane for a while, and I invited him home.” She shrugged. “It wasn’t a big deal.”
One brow winged up. Damn, Emerson really had the Mom Stare down. “Do I look dumb enough to buy that? I know how bad he hurt you.”
As Emerson had been the one to pick up the pieces when they’d met as roommates their freshman year of college, right after Ty had dumped Paisley and left for boot camp, she knew perhaps better than anyone how devastated Paisley had been. And it was that more than anything else that had kept her from spilling her guts right after the wedding. She didn’t want to answer the inevitable smart questions she hadn’t been willing to ask herself.
“It was a long time ago.” It was, and she should’ve been able to be as casual about it as she pretended to be. But when had anything with Ty Brooks ever been casual?
As the silence dragged out, confirming Paisley wasn’t going to address that issue on her own, Emerson asked, “Was he as good as you remembered?”
This Paisley could talk about. “No.” She couldn’t repress a purr. “He’s even better.” As he’d proved multiple times through the night she hadn’t wanted to end. That highlight reel began to play again, cranking up her inner thermostat.
“So, what was this? Closure? Are you starting over with him? Picking back up where you left off?”
All excellent questions—none of which had answers.
Paisley shrugged again. “It was one fabulous night with no understanding or expectation of more.”
Emerson’s moue of disappointment echoed her own. Not that Paisley wanted to acknowledge that outside the privacy of her own head.
“You’re not even going to keep in touch?”
“He lives in Eden’s Ridge now.”
“It’s a four-hour drive. Caleb and I have made it a few times to visit his sisters. That’s not so bad.”
“Not exactly easy dating distance.” Even if he’d been so inclined. Which he hadn’t.
“That didn’t answer my question.”
“We’re keeping in touch,” Paisley conceded. “But it’s casual. Neither of us wants serious.” Liar liar, pants on fire.
She’d done casual for years, since her second divorce had left her inherent sense of romanticism thoroughly dented, proving once and for all that men could be enjoyed but not counted on. It was all she could handle. So, she’d be fine doing casual with Ty, if that was all she could have. And if her stupid, foolish heart was aching for more, she’d get over it. Besides, she had more pressing things to worry about than when she was next going to get Ty Brooks into her bed, and that was a sad and depressing state of affairs.
Paisley’s phone began to ring. Joel Fisher flashed across the screen.
Rookie mistake. Think about the problem, and that shit manifests.
Bracing herself, she hit answer. “Detective. Tell me you have something.”
“Deputy Brooks!”
Ty tried not to wince as Crystal Blue proclaimed his presence to the entirety of the lunch crowd at the diner. Not that there was anyone there who didn’t already know who he was. Probably. Eden’s Ridge and the rest of Stone County was a small town. He’d grown up in one much like it within spitting distance over the state line in Georgia, so he understood that, even at more than a year in residence, he was still news and still carried the mantle of New Guy. What he hadn’t been prepared for was being considered fresh meat. The diner’s cheerful proprietress seemed determined to matchmake him, despite all his protestations that he wasn’t looking for a woman. Or a man. She’d run a few of those in his direction, too.
She had that gleam in her eyes as he approached the counter, and he abruptly wished he’d gotten takeout from Elvira’s Tavern. Denver wouldn’t try to marry him off with his patty melt.
“Crystal. Is my order ready? I’ve got some business down in Cummings.” Why couldn’t there be a convenient call from dispatch to back him up on that?
“Nearly. Have a seat, sugar.” She gestured toward the lone empty spot of the counter, right next to a woman in a trim pencil skirt and blouse, head down as she worked on her phone.
He had a bad feeling as he slid onto the stool.
Crystal began to swipe at a nonexistent spot on the counter. “Have you met our Celeste?”
The woman looked up, dark eyes going wide as a deer in the headlights.
Ty could relate. “I don’t believe so.”
“Celeste is the head of our Chamber of Commerce.”
He nodded to the woman, understanding he had to say something. “Ma’am.”
Crystal beamed. “Don’t these former military men have lovely manners?” Ty noted she didn’t bother introducing him. It was understood that everyone knew who he was.
“Um, yeah. Hi.” A faint flush rose beneath the tawny copper of her cheeks, and she flashed an awkward smile that told him she wasn’t any more prepared for this ambush than he was.
“You two both love the patty melt on sourdough with curly fries,” Crystal announced, preening as if she’d brokered
