Willow
willow
RONAN:
You’ll never guess what Trinity did.
ME:
What?
Wait, don’t tell me. She put syrup in your boots again?
RONAN:
How did you know about that?
ME:
You ranted about it for days. I could hear you grumbling about it through the walls.
RONAN:
That’s embarrassing.
She changed the coffee at the station again. It’s some kind of mushroom coffee today. I nearly died when I drank it.
ME:
I’ve heard mushroom coffee is really good for you.
RONAN:
How can it be good for you when it tastes like death? I thought I was dying, .
Please tell me you still have coffee at the bakery.
ME:
We do.
I’ll bring you some. Should I bring some to the others too?
RONAN:
Fuck no. You’re my coffee dealer. They can find their own.
I pulled the glass door of the Sheriff’s Department open, and hesitated. I still didn’t know if inviting myself to Ronan’s work in the middle of the day had been the right call. It felt right—he needed coffee, and I could provide it—but visiting him like this didn’t feel fake. It felt very much like a thing an actual girlfriend would do, and I wasn’t totally sure how I felt about that.
He wanted it to be real in public, and I understood and agreed, but a part of me was terrified of falling for him. It would be so easy to do, and if I did, I knew this would only end in my heartbreak.
The door shut behind me as I stepped into the lobby. It smelled like disinfectant and the mushroom coffee that nearly killed Ronan, and I smiled to myself. The cinderblock walls were painted an off-white, and the tiled floor was slightly scuffed, but clean. A large door was to the left, and a glass window was to the opposite side. There was a small room with a wrap-around desk against the walls, and little cubbies on the other side of the window. I stepped toward it, peering through the glass. Computers and phones sat in each cubby, but they were all empty. Somewhere in the room, I could hear voices, though.
I stopped by the desk and stared at the bell sitting on it, rolling my lips between my teeth. Was I supposed to ring it? Was that something you did at a police department? It felt weird, like I was calling a concierge at a hotel.
Thankfully, before I had to do anything, an older woman with dusky red hair popped out. “Can I help you, honey?” Her voice was deep and raspy, like she’d smoked a pack of cigarettes every day for the last thirty years.
“Hi,” I said, reminding myself to smile. “I’m here to see the Sheriff.” My heart rate kicked into overdrive as the words left me. Her brows rose.
“The Sheriff?”
“Um, yes. Ronan Caldwell? I have his coffee?—”
“Oh!” She snapped her fingers before pointing at me. “You’re from the bakery, aren’t you?”
“Yes.” I laughed breathlessly. “He said something about needing coffee, so?—”
She rolled her eyes, but there wasn’t any heat in her expression. “Yeah, one of our employees is a bit of a prankster. Just put it in the cubby, and I’ll take it to him.” She opened a smaller window on the glass and a metal box slid forward.
All I could do was stare at it. I didn’t want to give her the coffee. I wanted to take it to him myself.
But maybe that was ridiculous? He didn’t ask to see me; he just wanted coffee.
I flicked my gaze to her, but she was talking to someone I couldn’t see. “Could I take it to him?” I blurted, and her eyes slid to me before her head followed.
“He’s not taking any appointments today,” she said, and I shook my head.
“I’m his…friend.” It felt weird calling myself his girlfriend. If he hadn’t told them, why should I? Maybe he didn’t want anyone he worked with to know.
That got her attention, and she looked at me with a new expression. Slowly, her gaze dragged over my body, starting at my feet and lifting to my head. I tried not to nervously shift around, but it was impossible when she was scrutinizing every inch of me.
“You’re his friend ?” she repeated, and I swallowed thickly as I nodded.
“We’re neighbors.”
She glanced at the person I couldn’t see, then back at me. “He didn’t say anything about expecting you.”
My chest filled with air as I took a deep breath. Right. So, he really did just want me to drop it off and leave. I didn’t understand why that stung so much.
“Toby is going to lose his mind looking for what I did to his desk.” I perked up at the voice, and my body swayed forward to look deeper into the room on the other side of the window.
“What did you do?” the older woman asked, shaking her head.
“Nothing,” Trinity said. “I left him a note saying I did something to his desk, but I really didn’t touch a thing. It’ll drive him crazy for days.” That familiar cackle rang through the office, and I grinned. She really was a menace, but it only made me adore her even more. “?”
She jumped into view, her hair a mess around her face. She was wearing a hoodie, jeans, and sneakers today, just like she was the other night at the bar.
“Hey,” I smiled, lifting my hand in an awkward wave.
“Whatcha doin’ here?” She propped her hip on the desk and folded her arms over her chest. The older woman looked between us, questions on her wrinkled face.
I lifted the coffee and paper bag of food. “I’m here to see your brother,” I said, and she rolled her bottom lip out.
“And here I thought you wanted to see me,” she pouted, then let out a dramatic sigh. “But I guess you can see Ro. He’s in his office.” She reached for a button on the desk, but the older woman grabbed her wrist.
“The Sheriff isn’t taking appointments,” she repeated, flicking her gaze to me.
“This,” Trinity pointed at me, “is the Sheriff's girlfriend.”
The older woman’s mouth fell open, her eyes nearly popping out of her head. Another woman rolled into view on a computer chair, looking just as shocked.
“Girlfriend?” she repeated.
Heat rushed into my cheeks as the women stared at me. “It’s still new,” I muttered.
“I didn’t think he’d date anyone,” the older woman said. “I’ve tried setting him up with my niece for years, but he’s always said—” She shook her head. “That doesn't matter. I can’t believe he’s dating you.”
Ouch. Okay. That stung a lot. It seemed that everyone else had the same thought I did—he was too good for me.
I tried to not let it show on my face and forced another smile. “Don’t they make the cutest couple ever?” Trinity sighed dreamily. “I didn’t even have to pay her to date him. She’s willingly doing it.”
The other woman rolled her eyes as she rolled back out of view. “Trin, I need help getting these gems on my keyboard,” she said, and Trinity perked up.
“Head back there,” she told me, pressing the button on the desk. “He’ll be happy to see you. Go down the hall, take a left, and he’s the last door.”
A buzzer rang through the lobby, and I hurried to the door on the opposite side of the room and yanked it open. I gave her a quick wave before disappearing into the hallway.
The walls and tiles looked the same as they did in the lobby, but bulletin boards lined the walls, all overflowing with papers. I scanned them as I passed, but nothing caught my attention. Finally, I turned and stared at the open door at the end of the short hallway.
Ronan was sitting at his desk, his head resting on his hand. He looked more stressed than I’d ever seen him before, and I tightened my grip on the bag. I’d just drop this off for him, then leave him alone.
With a deep breath, I strode down the hall. Each step closer sent a zing of excitement through my body. My blood thrummed, and my palms sweat, but I forced myself to keep walking.
I stepped into the doorway, but he didn’t look up. He stayed staring down at the papers on his desk, his dark brows pinched tightly together. An anxious lump formed in my throat as I lifted my hand and tapped my knuckles against his door.
His head snapped up, and for a fleeting second, his eyes slashed through me like a knife. I didn’t know who he was expecting to see, but I was happy I wasn’t them. Then he realized it was me, and everything about him softened.
Slowly, his shoulders lowered, and the tension in his face relaxed. The crease between his brows smoothed out, and the tightness of his lips slackened. And the smile he gave me—it sent my heart soaring into my throat, and I couldn’t keep the smile off my own face.
“You’re here,” he said softly. “I didn’t think you’d really come.”
I tilted my head to the side. “You needed coffee.” I shrugged. “Of course I came.”
He got to his feet and gestured to the chair across his desk. “Sit. Please.”
My feet tangled under me as I jolted a step forward, nearly falling to the floor. Ronan lurched toward me, his arms outstretched despite the desk between us. I smoothed my hand over my hair, giving him a weak smile as I more calmly made my way to the chair.
“I was working on a new chocolate tart recipe when you texted,” I explained, setting the paper bag and cup on the desk. “I haven’t tried it yet, so I hope it’s okay.”
“I’m sure it’s delicious.” He grabbed the bag and sank into his chair, eagerly ripping it open. “Oh, they’re small.” A laugh bubbled up my throat at the sound of his disappointment, but I forced myself to bite it back.
“Yeah, they’re mini tarts.” I tucked my hair behind my ear as I watched him gingerly lift a tart from the bag. It was crumbly, and I knew I needed to rework the crust before he even took a bite. But the toasted marshmallow and slivered almonds were still on top, so that was a win.
His eyes met mine as he popped the whole thing in his mouth, his jaw working as he chewed. He had a lot of faith in me—it could’ve been disgusting. But from his expression, I didn’t think that was the case.
“Oh my god,” he groaned. “That’s so fucking good. S’mores? And there’s something else.”
I eagerly nodded as I sank into the chair. “Orange blossom,” I said, and he made a face like he was impressed. “I wanted to add lavender, but we already have the lavender cinnamon rolls, so I thought we needed something new.”
“The only thing I’d change is…” He popped the other in his mouth, and my anxiety skyrocketed as I watched him slowly chew. “Make them bigger.”
A small, breathy laugh escaped me, and I relaxed back into my seat, the leather creaking with my movements. “These are samples,” I told him. “Just to test the recipe. The final version will be our usual tart size.”
He nodded as he crumpled the bag into a ball and tossed it into his bin. As he relaxed, he rested his hands on the desk, the tips of his fingers tapping against the wood. He always did that—tapped against something or locked his truck multiple times. But I didn’t want to bring it up. Maybe he didn’t even realize he was doing it.
“I wasn’t sure how you like your coffee,” I blurted, needing to fill the empty silence. “It’s black, but I figured you had sugar and cream here?” I glanced around, suddenly unsure. Was that something they kept in a police department? Probably not. They’re all masculine men, and sugary coffee was probably too girly for them.
“Everyone says I have a cup of sugar with a splash of coffee,” Ronan said. I blinked at him. Somehow, I thought he would be a coffee black kind of guy. No nonsense. Straightforward. But there seemed to be more to him than I initially thought. “How do you take yours, shortcake?”
I rolled my lips between my teeth to fight my smile. “Brown sugar with a healthy dose of oat milk.”
“You have a sweet tooth too, then?” he asked, and I nodded.
“My mom was always so worried my teeth would rot out of my head from the amount of sugar I ate when I was a kid,” I said, huffing out a laugh.
“My mom used to say the same thing.” We grinned at each other, and this time, the silence that fell over us wasn’t uncomfortable. “Thank you for coming.”
“No problem.” I chewed my bottom lip as I looked around his office. It was nearly as bare as his house was. Nothing but work-related things on the walls, and his desk was covered in papers. There was nothing personal , nothing that showed me who Ronan was. It was just a place for him to work—just as it seemed his house was nothing but a place for him to sleep.
Nothing was permanent.
I swallowed thickly as I drummed my fingers against my thighs. How long before I overstayed my welcome? If I left too soon, it would be rude, but too late would be awkward. Seconds ticked by, the clock on the wall the only sound in the room.
A deep breath filled my lungs as I worked up the courage to tell him I was going back to work, but before I could say anything, someone strolled into the room. They stopped behind me, and I turned to look at them over my shoulder.
“Oh, sorry. I didn’t realize you were in a meeting.” The man was wearing a uniform, and his dark blond hair was cropped close to his head.
“It’s fine. What do you need, Toby?” Ronan said, waving dismissively. I snapped my head forward, a smile teasing my lips as Trinity’s words from earlier came back. Had he already seen his desk?
“They found the slow cooker by Maeve’s place,” he said, and Ronan’s brows lifted.
“Really? That’s fucking weird.”
“The food inside was missing, and it was totally clean,” he continued. Ronan’s head reared back at the words.“And it seemed to be broken. The actual pot was cracked, and when it was plugged in, it didn’t turn on.”
“Fucking weird,” Ronan repeated. “Add it to the report.”
He let out a long sigh as he rubbed his forehead. That same weariness crept into his face again, and my heart squeezed. I hadn’t realized he was so tired—he always looked tired when he got home, but I thought it was just because he was tired from working all day. But this was different. This was a bone-deep tired, something that followed him and never let up. And I felt bad.
I wanted to help him forget everything that stressed him. I wanted him to relax—I wanted to be the reason why he relaxed.
Toby left the office as quickly as he came, and Ronan reclined back into his worn leather chair with a groan. I chewed my bottom lip, contemplating if I should ask what was going on. Was I even allowed to know? But if he wasn’t allowed to tell me, he wouldn’t.
“Someone lost a slow cooker?” I asked, and he huffed out a humorless laugh.
“We’ve had a string of burglaries around town,” he explained. “I’m surprised you haven’t heard about it.”
I shrugged. “I keep to myself.”
“The person is breaking into people’s homes and taking random things. A slow cooker with food in it, a broken digital camera, a massive plastic tub of Twizzlers. Just weird shit.”
“Twizzlers? In a tub?”
“Yeah, you know the massive tubs of them? Like the Costco-sized tubs?” He held his hands apart, miming the size of the container.
“Oh my god.” My eyes widened, and before I could stop it, a giggle escaped. “That’s ridiculous. That can’t be real.”
“Unfortunately, it is.” He sighed, pinching between his eyes. “And everyone in town is pissed at me for not catching the guy already.”
My smile slowly fell. So that’s what was weighing on him. “I’m sorry,” I murmured. “You’ll get him soon.” His lips pressed into a thin smile.
“Thanks for having faith in me, shortcake.” Ronan knocked against his desk before he stood. “Can I walk you out?”
His dismissal hurt, but I understood. He was busy, and I really needed to get back to the bakery to help Gracie. When he got to my side, he held his hand out, and I slid my palm against his. That same soft expression flitted over his face, but some tension still lingered.
Like he did the other day, he tucked my hand into the crook of his elbow as we walked down the hallway. I felt like I needed to say something, anything , but nothing came. And before I could think of anything, we were standing at the lobby door.
“I’ll see you later?” he asked, and I smiled up at him.
“Of course. I’ll text you.” I hesitated for only a moment, feeling like there was something more I needed to do before I left. A hug maybe? But that felt too intimate. A kiss was definitely off the table.
Before I could second guess myself, I wrapped one arm around him and gave him a quick hug. Then I was out the door and in the parking lot before either of us could fully register what had just happened.