Page 40 of Before We Fell

“Steak.”

“Is that it?”

“I’m a red meat and potatoes kind of guy. Simple pleasures, you know? Plus, the steak here is even better than at The Tavern.”

The Tavern Friday night steak night was a legend. People came from counties away to have dinner at the bar those nights. It was the only night of the week they served a complete dinner, and I went at least once a month. It was well worth the wait, sometimes over an hour, for the food.

“Well with that recommendation, I can’t pass that up.” I found the section he pointed to, decided on the ribeye and closed my menu. “Steak and potatoes it is.”

He smiled so wide, I felt it in my toes.

The waitress appeared and we ordered our drinks along with our dinners since we were both ready, and soon after, our drinks arrived, placed quietly on the table, our waitress not interrupting our conversation at how our week was going.

I took a sip of my club soda and lime while Shawn reached for his iced tea.

I knew basics about Shawn, his parents were married and lived not far from me. He was an only child. At thirty, he was only a few years older than me, and tonight he’d added complete and perfect gentleman to the list. He also looked just as sexy in dressier clothes as he did in his uniform.

“What made you want to become a police officer?” I asked. We’d already spent time talking about me, why I teach—born nurturer, I told him, although that wasn’t the full version either—and that I enjoyed yoga and the occasional three-mile run after work. He already knew I enjoyed time at The Tavern and since the night where he’d playfully coerced me into this date, we’d texted several times where we talked about what we watched on television or music we listened to. He’d asked what I did for Labor Day, which hadn’t been much at all. That weekend for me was always playing more catch up on sleep and re-adjusting to school schedule than backyard parties.

“Do you want the real answer or the responsible one?”

“They’re different?”

“The real answer is I grew up with a dad who enjoyed shooting guns and taught me how to handle them at a young age. I liked shooting guns and chicks dig guys in a uniform. So…” He tossed out his hands, palms up and grinned shamelessly. “There you have it.”

“And the responsible one?” I asked through my laughter.

“I went to college and I didn’t know what I wanted. I fumbled for a few years, knew I wanted a job I could do anywhere in case I ever left Carlton, but deep down, I’ve always loved this town. It’s small, it’s safe, it’s a great place to hopefully raise a family of my own. I like that it’s comfortable, people are kind, and there aren’t major crime issues, but I still want to keep it as safe as possible for the kids growing up and make it a better place for kids who will come in the future. Add that to my love of guns, and I suppose it was always a given I’d end up doing this, right here.”

Emotion pricked at my throat, and I swallowed my club soda to wash it away. His pride in his town and his service and his career along with his dreams filtered clear in his words. God, he was so damn perfect.

I grew up with parents clueless as to the problems in their own life, even more oblivious to the train wreck my brother became when he was so young. Their main method of parenting being avoidance and blinders over their eyes when it came to any problem Travis caused. At least, until he was so far gone and beyond their help and then it was all about him. Fixing him. Saving him. Finding him.

And me? I was the forgotten one, the good one, who tried so damn hard to earn their approval with perfection and always, always falling short.

It’d been exhausting, and I couldn’t imagine being someone like Shawn, who devoted their entire life to those problems, seeing so much worse than I could possibly fathom.

“When did you become a detective?” I asked.

“After about five years when cruising the streets grew tedious. Carlton is still small, certainly not a metropolis by any means, but that doesn’t mean we don’t see crime, you know? And the amount of ugliness we see, that takes its toll. Plus, the growth of the area has brought in a lot more of that. Drug use is up, domestic violence is always a rough one. Being a detective and finding the cause of motive behind crimes? I don’t know, sometimes I think if we can figure out thewhythen we can figure out how to stop it.”

“I admire you.” Yep. I blurted that.Awesome.

Shawn seemed as taken aback as I was at the statement. My cheeks flared heat straight to my throat and upper chest.

His surprised look softened. “I don’t think we’re all that different. You take care of the youth, try to get them to stay on the right path, and that’s not any easier. I deal with the ones who fall off of it, and when I can, get them back on. I think your career is pretty damn admirable too, Lauren.”

Speechless. He’d stolen my clearheaded thoughts and fortunately, I was saved by our waitress returning and delivering our meals. Any deep conversation stalled as we bit into our steaks and after my first bite, my eyes closed.

Heaven in a bite. When I opened them, Shawn was peering at me with a wondrous look of rapture—or lust—on his face. “It’s delicious,” I whispered, for some reason, my voice went soft. Like speaking too loud would ruin the moment.

“Glad you like it. And this might be presumptuous, but do you have any plans for Friday?”

Before I could answer, a bright fluff of hot pink appeared at my side and Riley’s face was split into the largest smile I’d ever seen. “Miss Frazier! Look at my dress!” She spun in a circle and the tulle from her dress spun high into the air.

Behind her, Noah stood. His narrowed eyes and clipped jaw instantly erasing my smile. “Miss Frazier,” he said, eyes sliding straight to Shawn. “Shawn.”

“Noah. Hey. How’s it goin’?”