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“And it’s been better, hasn’t it?” I ask. Surely, small town antics are nothing like that of the big city.
He concedes with a nod. “For the most part. But just now, when we were driving over here…”
“It all came back.”
Rory’s head drops. He looks into his lap, playing with his fingers. “I’m starting to wonder if it’s my own fault.”
“It’s a high-stress job. No matter where you go.”
“But I care about it. I care about protecting people and keeping the peace.” He shrugs. “Solving a mystery from time to time.”
I giggle. Yep, a full giggle. And with a push of courage from somewhere deep inside, I touch his shoulder again. He doesn’t draw away this time. So I lean closer. “Rory, look at me.”
He lifts his head, dark eyes swimming with tears.
I don’t have the solutions. But I have the words. “You’re averygood man.”
“Thank you, Constance,” he replies.
I press my hand to his chest. His heart is beating evenly. “I mean it.”
“I know you do,” Rory says in a voice low and… perhaps wanting. His eyes drop to my lips for a moment, but I know he won’t dare cross the line, not when I’ve set it so firmly.
Against my hand, his heartbeat quickens. Just a bit. “I’m making things worse,” I say and begin to draw my hand away.
Rory claps his hand over mine, sealing it to his chest. “No. I promise you’re not.”
I want to be close to him. As close as I can be. I’m a woman of my word, but I’ll admit sometimes my word is wrong.
One kiss. What harm could that do?
I lean in slow. Rory doesn’t back away. I can feel his breath landing against my lips. Waiting for me to…
His head jerks forward. “She’s here.”
I look up to and sure enough, a car has just pulled into the parking lot. I can spy Bea in the passenger seat. “Oh my gosh…” Nowmyheart is racing.
“Stay calm, Chaplin.”
I press my hands between my legs and watch as Bea gets out of her car and saunters out of sight and into the bar.
We wait a full minute.
Rory unbuckles his seatbelt. “You ready?”
“For what?”
He smiles. Easy again, except for an earnestness in his eyes that seems for me alone. “You don’t think I’m doing this alone, do you?”
I smile back.
We get out of the car and head to the glass front door. There’s a poster pasted to the inside about discounted beer buckets for the Bicentennial celebration and all-you-can-eat wings. Yep, that’s Horace in a nutshell.
Rory leads the way, pushing the door open.
“Sorry, we’re not open yet!” I hear Bea call out from behind the bar.
“We’re not here as customers,” Rory says.
