Page 2 of Kissing Her Rescuer

His brown hair was cut short. And, just like other weeks, he hadn’t bothered to shave in a couple days giving him a dangerous, scruffy look. His hazel eyes appeared brown with only the street light above them. Tall and muscular. Muscles he'd earned working in the cotton field when he wasn't on duty. Oh, their one weekend together might have been nearly eight years ago, but she remembered every inch of that body.

“I'm glad my weekly night out is good with your schedule. I'll be sure to consult you if I have to make a change.”

He didn't smile the fun way she knew he could. He was goofy with his friends. Too bad, he didn't consider her a friend. Never had. There'd always beensomethingbetween them. She'd recognized it the summer after she turned seventeen.

On her end, it was a sexual current that never went away.

For him, all he seemed to want to do is make sure she was safe, and then he backed away. She appreciated the concern, but that wasn't what she dreamed about. At twenty-eight, she wanted more than a big-brother relationship. But a relationship became tricky when raising a seven-year-old at the same time.

“Are you going to follow me home like usual?” She climbed into her dad's car, having sold her own to make it out of Alabama with her daughter.

“Yes.” He kept her from closing the door, leaning down until they were a few inches apart. His proximity caught her off guard. She let herself have one brief moment to fall into his eyes.

He smirked. “Next time, though, don't stick your tail in the air in front of your opponent. I'd hate to have Cameron come out and arrest me for disturbing the peace.”

“A deputy arresting a deputy. That would make an interesting article.” He was so close, and her voice stayed perfectly even. Another reason she didn't drink to excess. It wouldn't take much of a push to try and relive the best night of her life with him.

His lopsided grin surprised her. “Drive safe, Princess.” He closed her door and walked to his old, beat-up truck that parked behind her. Right behind her. She couldn't even give him the slip to getaway. Not that she could outrun anyone in her dad's old car from the nineties.

And he'd called her Princess. He hadn't called her that since she was thirteen and mooning over him, finding every excuse in the book to tag along behind her older sister and her friends.

Dewey's headlights remained a constant distance away from her until she pulled into her dad's driveway. She stopped the car in front of the house. Carrie's window on the second-floor glowed pink from her night light. Eliza’s entire life slept soundly. Safely. That was the most important thing.

Dewey dropped his headlights from a full beam to the parking lights. Of course, he'd wait for her to get into the house. He still saw her as an irresponsible kid. She gave him a quick wave and opened the front door, twisting the handle until it closed with a soft click.

In the dark, she finally let her brave face slip.

Dewey.

The sexy, single, small-town cop that she didn't have a right to think about. Life would have turned out differently if she'd taken his offer, come back to Statem when she was twenty. Married him. But then she wouldn't have Carrie. The only good thing that came from her marriage with Zach. The only reason she’d stayed with Zach as long as she did.

“Eliza?” Her dad's voice called from the top of the stairs.

“It's me, Daddy.” She began to climb the stairs of her childhood home. Someday it might not feel strange. She might stop expecting to hear her mom's voice drift in from the kitchen. “Was Carrie good for you?”

“Perfect angel.”

Doubtful. “That's good. Thanks again for watching her.”

“It's no chore.” He stood at the top of the stairs. His flannel pants almost threadbare, and his white undershirt more of a cream color from years of wear. “But I expect you to be at work in the morning. Thursday is our big day.”

“I know, Daddy. That's why I take off Wednesdays.”

He grunted and shuffled back down the hall to his room, leaving the door open. Juliana, her sister, had mentioned that until Eliza and Carrie came to live with him that their dad had slept with the door closed since their mom died.

Eliza tried not to regret her decision to leave Statem. But if she could do it over again, she would have stayed long enough to attend her mom's funeral and not run away from the pain.

After checking on Carrie, snuggled up under her Minnie Mouse blanket, she walked to her own room. Juliana had cleared it of everything from high school. The only things that remained were the bed and dresser. That made it easier. She couldn't stand to go back to that point in time and get hit with the memories every time she walked into the room. Walking into the house without her mom there hurt enough.

But she wouldn't run this time.

After starting the shower and waiting for the water to warm up, about three minutes in their old house, she sat on the edge of the bed and looked at her phone. She pulled up Dewey's number. She'd thought about him nearly every day since he’d walked out of her crappy house in Alabama.

Carrie opened her door, sleepy eyes, and carrying a stuffed cat. “Mama,” she mumbled and ran to her. “I pretended to be asleep, so Grandpa didn't fuss at me, but I want to sleep with you.”

Carrie had fallen asleep, but Eliza didn't argue. She pulled back the comforter, letting her daughter crawl into her bed. “I need to take a shower. Then, I'll be in here.”

Carrie nodded, already drifting back to sleep.

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