Chapter 1
MIKE
I’m not sure why my friends are so intent on setting me up.
Without fail, whenever we get together, at least one of them just has to mention it.
From Shea, fiancee of my fellow officer and friend, Oliver—“Oh, Mike, there’s Felicity, the new teller at the bank. She’s so nice, and last time I stopped in, she mentioned something about hoping to meet someone.”
Or Rose, Ian’s wife, will mention, “Mike, there’s this woman who just joined Ian’s gym. She’s just lovely. Divorced with the cutest little girl. And so smart. I could give her your number, if you want.”
It’s not just the partners of my friends, either. The guys—who used to be just as content being single as me—have to get into the mix, too.
Oliver will bring up the barbecue they’re hosting at their house, making sure to let me know there’ll be several available women in attendance.
If we’re out in public—the Hop-less Horseman for trivia or the Horse and Ghost for their happy hour specials—I’ll get to hear comments from the guys like, “Hey, that brunette over at the bar has been staring at you since you got here. Maybe you should go over to introduce yourself.”
But I don’t want to introduce myself to the woman at the bar. I don’t want to ask Felicity—who I’m sure is very nice—out on a date. Or call up the single mom at Ian’s gym.
Not that I have a problem with kids. I don’t. It’s the whole dating thing I’d rather avoid.
I know my friends mean well.
With only a few exceptions, they’re all in relationships and happy as clams. So I guess, in their minds, they think I should want the same thing as them.
Dating. Living together. Marriage. Kids. The whole spending a lifetime with one person thing.
In theory, it sounds nice.
In reality? I’m not sold on it.
I tried marriage before. It didn’t work.
Marriage was a year of listening to my ex, Heidi, complain about my schedule and subpar salary and my reticence to go back to school so I could get a job that was, in her words, more upwardly mobile.
She knew I was a cop when we met. She knew as a rookie I got the worst shifts, but that it was only temporary.
That my salary would go up steadily as I put in my time, but I’d never be wealthy like some of the guys she dated in college.
And she knew I didn’t want a different job.
That being a cop was the only career I’d ever wanted.
When she told me she wanted a divorce, I wasn’t surprised.
But the way she did it—clearing out our shared bank accounts before coldly telling me, “I earned it for putting up with your shit, Mike. I’m taking the money and moving.
Going someplace where I can find a man who’ll treat me right,” made the whole thing ten times worse.
And that’s not the first time I’ve been abandoned by a woman I cared about.
Before Heidi, back when I was young and hopeful and desperately in love, I thought I’d found the woman I wanted to spend my life with. But just like with Heidi, it turned out I just wasn’t good enough.
After having my heart crushed by my first love, then betrayed by the second woman I took a chance on, is it any wonder I’m content being single?
I like my life as it is. I love my job as one of the senior officers of the Sleepy Hollow police department.
I like living in this cozy town, doing my part to keep it safe.
I like puttering around the house on the weekends, working on an assortment of projects or taking care of the lawn.
And all well-meaning matchmaking aside, I enjoy meeting up with friends for a drink or trivia on one of the nights I have off.
But rather than explain all of that when any of my friends bring up the subject of dating, I just give them a pleasant but vague answer.
I’m pretty busy right now, but maybe in a couple of months.
I’ll think about it.
Thanks, but I’m not looking to date right now.
I’m not celibate, of course. In the sixteen years since my divorce, it’s not like I haven’t been with women. I’ve been on dates. Had some mutually-agreed-upon one night hookups. They’ve just never gone anywhere. And I’m okay with that.
Life is less complicated that way. Less chance of getting hurt.
“Oh, Mike.” Ari—who’s married to Cash, one of the Sleepy Hollow firefighters at Station 4—leans across the worn wooden table to touch my arm.
“I almost forgot to tell you, there’s a new teacher at my school who you might be interested in.
She just started in September. She’s kind of quiet, but so sweet. And she’s definitely single. I asked.”
I barely smother a laugh. We’ve been at the Hop-less Horseman for less than thirty minutes and the matchmaking has already started.
Taking a long swig of my beer, I debate which excuse to use this time.
Once I swallow, I smile at Ari and say gently, “I’m not sure. My schedule’s been pretty busy lately with some extra training at the station, and I have a conference coming up next weekend—”
“But she’s here now,” Ari interjects. She angles her head towards the entrance, where two women bundled in puffer coats, thick scarves, and fuzzy hats are standing just inside the door, surveying the busy bar.
One of them gestures to an empty table in the far corner, and the other glances at it before giving a quick nod of agreement.
“How can you even tell who that is?” Shea asks, following Ari’s gaze. “You can barely see her face.”
“Her hat. We were talking about it the other day while we were walking into the building. I asked Darcy where she got it, and she said she knitted it herself. Can you believe that? It looks like something you’d buy at Divine Designs. And she’s so nice, she offered to make me…”
But the instant I hear the name Darcy, my mind jolts with recognition.
Darcy. A name I can never hear without remembering.
And hearing it in Sleepy Hollow, the very place I met her, brings an avalanche of memories falling after it.
Our first date in high school, my first date ever, shyly reaching for her hand as we walked into the movie theater.
Dancing with her at prom, feeling so incredibly lucky to have the most gorgeous girl in the room wrapped in my arms.
Giving her a promise ring the night before I left for college, already imagining us getting married one day.
Believing I’d found the one up until that miserable day she broke up with me.
“Mike?” Concern pulls Ari’s brows into a little V. “You okay?”
I jerk myself back to the present and flash her a smile that almost feels real. “Of course. Why?”
She hesitates. Her gaze scans my face. “You just looked…” Another pause. “You know, never mind what I said about Darcy. If you’re not interested in dating, I won’t suggest it anymore.”
Beside her, Cash snorts.
She elbows him. “What? I won’t.”
But whatever Cash says in response fades into the background as the woman—Darcy—takes off her hat.
Long blonde hair falls past her shoulders, the color of honey with streaks of amber running through it.
Then she unwinds her scarf, revealing her face.
A face I can’t forget even after sixteen years.
Though she’s halfway across the bar, I can’t miss her distinctive features.
Expressive eyes framed by long lashes and elegantly arching eyebrows.
High cheekbones flushed from the cold, accented by full lips and a delicate chin.
And while she’s not looking in my direction, I could describe the exact shade of her eyes—a deep evergreen flecked with bits of gold and amber.
As she shrugs off her coat and hangs it on the back of her seat, I keep staring at her.
I catalog the familiar curve of her breasts and flaring hips, slightly fuller than I remember, which makes sense since she’s thirty-eight now, instead of twenty-two.
I steal a glance at her legs, slender and toned in a pair of dark jeans, and as she turns, I catch a glimpse of her still-very-pert ass.
Shit. She looks great.
Not that it’s bad. But it would be easier to see her again if she didn’t look so much like I remember. So much like the woman I turned my heart over to, only to end up with it smashed into pieces.
But that’s ancient history. Practically twenty years ago.
Whatever happened back then doesn’t matter anymore.
Except.
When she turns and sees me, her eyes flaring with recognition, it feels like I’m back in high school again.
Meeting her for the first time as I walked into journalism class, beelining over to the desk beside her without even thinking about it. Just knowing instinctively that I needed to talk to her. Needed to learn more about the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen.
Not a girl anymore. A woman. But still as stunning as I remember.
Darcy blinks. Her cheeks flush a deep pink. She takes an uneven step towards the table, nearby stumbling before she catches herself.
I only just stop myself from jumping up to help her, gritting my teeth as I force myself to stay still.
She doesn’t need my help. Doesn’t want it. She couldn’t have made that more clear.
Still. There’s a part of me that aches to go to her. Ask if she’s okay.
“Mike?” It’s Shea this time. She exchanges a quick glance with Oliver before asking, “Are you sure you’re okay? Because you look sort of… ill.”
I cast a quick look around the table, finding all my friends looking at me with concern.
It’s not surprisingly, really, since I’m always the steady one.
The one who never lets on he’s upset, even after the most heartbreaking of cases.
The guy who always has a smile at the ready, who always, always insists he’s okay.
But somehow, I find myself admitting, “I know her. Darcy. From back in high school.”
And after, but that’s not worth getting into now.
“Oh, that’s right,” Ari says. “Darcy mentioned going to high school here.” She stops. “You guys are close in age, right? Were you friends?”
“Two years apart,” I reply. “And you could say that. But I haven’t spoken to her in a long time. She probably doesn’t even know I live here.”