Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“Great. Just what this place needed—more romance.”
Eden didn’t bother hiding the disgust in her voice as she appeared at their booth with her notepad. Her sleek raven-black ponytail showed off the elegant line of her jaw, and the tiny silver stud in her nose glinted under the lights.
The Maple and Main uniform was supposed to be kitschy—white blouse, a little red apron over a black skirt and stockings, but Eden had somehow stamped it with her own brand of attitude.
The blouse was tight, the skirt short enough to earn a second look, but the Doc Martens on her feet screamed don’t even fucking think about it.
Lily had always thought Eden’s vibe was far too cool for the old-fashioned diner. Today, Lily was especially grateful for Eden’s blunt indifference.
If only everyone felt that way.
She risked a glance around. Three of her yoga grannies were parked in a booth across from them, pretending to look over their menus but peeking like they were at a show.
At the counter, a cluster of off-duty firefighters and deputies nursing coffees, not even trying to hide their stares.
Rush had nodded at their greetings when they came in, but the fishbowl effect of a small town was real.
Lily lowered her gaze to her menu. The words blurred.
No one here had a clue she’d just let Sheriff Callahan pin her hands to a barre and fuck her against a mirror until she cried.
Her lips still tingled. Her thighs pressed together beneath the table, every shift reminding her how hard he’d taken her…
and how desperately she needed it. Outwardly, she was just a shy redhead blushing at a diner, when in truth, she’d never felt more undone in her life.
Another woman—a girl, really—a lovely brunette, stood at the hostess desk, shooting Rush soulful looks.
Lily recognized her vaguely. “Is that a friend of yours?” she asked, tilting her head discreetly.
“Sarah’s friend,” he said somewhat darkly. “That’s Monica.”
The girl sighed deeply, twirling her long hair around a pencil. Lily caught herself wondering about Rush’s love life, and a sharp prickle she didn’t want to name surfaced. “Did you break her heart or something?” Lily murmured.
“Doubtful.” His lip curved. “More like her ego.”
Before she could dig a little deeper, Gertie Marshall stage whispered loud enough to carry, “Such a shame she and my grandson didn’t work out. He’s a dentist, you know. Good with his hands.”
Connie Hightower snorted. “My Jeffery’s a CPA. He’s got a steady job and good benefits. Lily would have been set for life.”
“Who wants to kiss a CPA?” Gertie swatted her with a menu. “Dentists have better oral skills.”
Lily forced her eyes back to the specials list, but the words “set for life” dug sharply.
That was exactly what she’d almost chosen—a safe, steady life where passion wasn’t required, where she could ignore the gnawing ache that she was settling.
But sitting across from Rush Callahan, with her body still shaking from what he’d just done to her, she finally understood the difference. Security was numb. Passion was heat.
One of the deputies swiveled his stool. “Looks to me like she’s already traded up. Isn’t that right, Sheriff Callahan?”
Heat shot up Lily’s neck, but Rush merely nodded at the teasing. Clearly, he was used to ribbing, but Lily wasn’t.
Eden rolled her eyes. “This is all riveting. Are you two ready to order?”
“Hi, Eden,” Lily said brightly, pasting on a smile. “I’ll have a maple cinnamon latte and the soup-and-salad special. Tomato basil and Chicken Apple Harvest—no chicken, please.”
“Vegetarian. Shocker.” Eden’s brows arched, highlighting her spectacularly drawn cat-eye. “And the usual for you, Sheriff?”
Rush didn’t even glance at his menu. “Chicken pot pie and coffee, please.”
When Eden stalked away, Lily let out a shaky breath. Lunch with Sheriff Callahan in uniform would’ve been surreal on its own, but after he’d had her spread out and coming apart an hour ago, she could barely make eye contact with anyone.
Eden dropped off their drinks, and Lily snuck a peek at him as he sipped the coffee, watching his strong, square jaw move.
The black stubble on his face gave him a swarthy, sexy look, and his mustache only added to the appeal.
His gray uniform stretched across broad shoulders, the badge pinned high on his chest. His Stetson rested on the seat beside him.
The duty belt at his hips—gun, cuffs, authority—wasn’t abstract anymore.
She knew exactly what it felt like to be at its mercy.
And yet, sitting here, she realized how little she truly knew about him. She knew the groan he made when he came, the exact shade of smoke his eyes turned when he wanted her. But everything else about Rush was a mystery.
Last night in his kitchen and even during the weekend at his cabin, they had both been so far from their jobs and their identities that the situation had stripped away the reservations and awkwardness. Just two people, suspended from titles and baggage and other people’s opinions.
But here, in the light of day in the middle of a lunch rush at Maple and Main, everything felt more complicated.
Her stomach growled, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten anything since a rushed bowl of oatmeal early that morning before teaching two yoga classes and directing pageant rehearsal.
Rush’s brow arched. “Hungry?”
“Starving.” She took a sip, more to keep her hands busy than anything else. “So. We did this kind of backward.”
“How so?” Rush caught her with that direct look of his.
“I don’t know much about you other than you drink your coffee black, you always have a plan, and you…” Her voice trailed off, picturing him behind her in the mirror. “And…” She cleared her throat. “You don’t exactly hesitate when you want something.”
“Other things,” he repeated thoughtfully, amusement flickering in his eyes.
His shoulders relaxed against the booth, settling in comfortably, and she did the same, crossing her legs under the table.
She’d thrown on an oversized soft cream sweater and leg warmers over her leotard and tights before they left the studio.
The sweater slipped down one shoulder as she shifted, exposing the V of her leotard.
Rush’s eyes flicked lower, lingered for a moment, before he dragged them back up to hers. A muscle in his jaw tightened, and her pulse jumped as a sweet, reckless thrill sparked in her belly.
“What do you want to know?”
She thought for a minute before starting with a softball question. “What’s it like being a sheriff here?”
The diner door jingled, and Rush glanced over her shoulder. She realized he’d deliberately taken the seat with his back to the wall. Another stark difference between the two of them. She would rather slink down in the booth and hide, while he was built to protect and serve.
He shrugged. “Some days it’s shaking hands and letting people see you around town. That does more to keep the peace than anything else. Other days it’s paperwork, and sometimes there are emergencies.”
His gaze drifted to the window, his smile fading as he watched the snow dust Main Street.
For a second, she caught the shadow of the weight he carried.
Her fingers itched to reach out and cover his hand with hers, just a small human connection at the sadness on his face, but just as quickly, it cleared and he looked back at her, the emotionless stone wall back in place.
“Was that the first time you’d seen Chloe?” The question slipped out before she could stop it.
His eyes went from warm teasing to gunmetal cold, answering her even before he spoke.
“No.” The single word was final—a “push and we’re done.”
Lily blinked against the unexpected sting of it. What was she doing? This was supposed to be fun, a temporary escape where they could both take what they needed without dredging up all the dark, tangled emotions that made things messy.
And yet, her chest pinched, knowing he hurt. Her instinct, for better or worse, was to comfort, even when he refused to let her in.
“Tell me about your studio,” he said instead, pulling them both back and into safer waters. “What made you decide to open a place like that?”
She thought for a moment, ready to give her canned answer about wellness, the one she’d repeated to the bankers and nosy neighbors a hundred times. But something about Rush’s steady gaze made her tell the truth instead.
“Since I was little, dance has always been my dream. My mom encouraged it to help strengthen my lungs, and it worked. I got stronger. Happier too. Teaching yoga and wellness classes just felt like a natural extension—and a smart business move when I finally sat down to write a business plan.” She gave a self-conscious shrug as old instincts to downplay herself kicked in.
Tucker had never liked when she talked about the studio.
Her business plans and marketing ideas bored him, or so he said, although she’d always suspected it had more to do with him not being at the center of her world.
One of the proudest moments of her life had been the day she’d picked up the keys to the studio—just her and Evie, buzzing with excitement.
They’d scrubbed the place clean, painted it with the help of Allie and Amber and the rest of her family, while Tucker slipped away with some flimsy excuse.
She should have seen it then, she thought absently, how little space he made for her dreams. How quick he was to prove that his came first.
“Smart move,” Rush said quietly.
“I really am proud of it,” she admitted. “My mom drilled it into all of us that college was nonnegotiable. I always knew I wanted to dance, but she pushed me to add a business minor. It panned out, I guess.”
“No guessing about it. I see the traffic coming in and out of your studio. You built something solid.” The admiration in his voice filled her with unexpected pleasure.
“She didn’t want us to end up like she did when my dad left,” Lily went on, getting more comfortable.
“She went back to work with four kids, worked nights, weekends, whatever it took, until she built the success she has now.” Pride laced her voice.
“She made sure we’d never have to rely on anyone else to survive. ”
Rush’s gaze sharpened, and he nodded. “That’s exactly what I tell Rachel and Sarah. Your mom sounds tough but fair.”
“She is.” Lily smiled, thinking about Annette. “She’s tough and amazing and a little intimidating. Everything I am is because of her. I admire her more than anyone,” she said simply.
Eden dropped off their lunches, and they dug in, chatting about lighter topics.
Rush was wry and self-deprecating, and she laughed, enjoying herself as they ate.
She asked him about his favorite color—black, which she teased him about.
His favorite food—burgers. Deep sigh. She asked about his plans for Christmas—a quiet lunch with Pop and his sisters on Christmas Day but otherwise no plans.
“That sounds wonderful,” she said, smiling. “Theo and Amber are hosting their annual Christmas Eve party, and my family always has dinner on Christmas Day.” Gathering a little courage, she added shyly, “Maybe you could come.”
“We’ll see,” he said easily. “What are you doing later this week?” he asked.
There it was again—the pivot. Clearly, meeting each other’s families wasn’t part of their arrangement. She’d asked about his family, about growing up in Texas, but every time she asked him a personal question, he only gave a brief answer before directing the conversation back to her.
Unless it was sex or teasing her, Rush kept his feelings close to his chest.
Except when he’d seen Chloe at the studio.
She couldn’t forget the way his body had gone rigid or the panic flashing in his eyes when he’d looked up and seen her on the steps.
Or the way he’d kissed her after the Whitmores left—hard, almost desperately, as if he needed her to burn something out of him…
or maybe into him. That kiss had stayed with her, gnawing at the edges of her thoughts as they ate, but she couldn’t put her finger on why.
“Was that the first time you’ve seen Chloe?” she asked, wondering if he’d answer this time.
He stilled, the easy smile fading from his face, and his eyes went cool and remote. The change was enough to make her blink. All that warmth and teasing and then nothing. “Are you done?” He nodded at her empty plate and glanced around as if looking for the check, avoiding her eyes.
Impulsively, she reached out her hand and touched the bruised skin of his knuckles. “What are these from?” she asked instead of answering him.
Rush turned his palm up, still holding her much more delicate hand but taking control.
Heat filled her at the contact. “Boxing. I’ve got a bag at the house. What are you doing this weekend?” He stroked the faint indent on her left finger where her engagement ring had been before tracing the sensitive skin of her palm.
“I teach on Saturday mornings and have Sunday dinner with my family, but otherwise I’m free,” she said, aware that he’d pivoted once again and distracted her with his touch.
“Listen, you two.” Gertie paused by their table, shrugging her puffy coat on.
“Don’t mean to interrupt this eyeballing thing you have going on right now, but I just want to say, good on ya, Lily.
” She stuffed her bright-pink beanie on her head, leaving iron-gray curls smashed around her head.
“Those other dates were wasting your time when you’ve got a man like Sheriff Callahan.
” She eyed Rush with blatant appreciation.
“Gertie,” Lily began, shooting Rush a look of mortification.
She tried discreetly to tug her hand back, but he only tightened his grip.
“Appreciate the vote of confidence, ma’am,” he said with a small, amused smile.
“Don’t ‘ma’am’ me.” Gertie snorted. “That one’s the real deal, sweetheart.” She jerked her chin toward Rush and winked at Lily. “Don’t let him get away.”
Lily wanted the floor to open up beneath her.
“We’ll keep that in mind,” he said smoothly. His thumb brushed slow and steady over her palm, anchoring her with a weight and intensity that made her both calm and dizzy, as if she were about to step off a cliff and change everything.
Temporary, her mind whispered. This is temporary.