“How about a nightcap?” he asked as he guided her steps. She had consumed three glasses of wine with dinner, assuring him the rest of his plans would fall into place.

“I have to work tomorrow.”

“Coffee, then.”

She started to look around and he felt the moment slipping.

He guided them away from the people walking on the sidewalk and stopped her by stepping in front of her. “Tell you what,” he said. “Let me do this. And if you hate it, we’ll call it a night. And if you don’t, I’ll fill you with coffee and maybe share an overpriced dessert.”

Grace tilted her head back and licked her lips.

Desmond placed his hands on her elbows and leaned over her. Kissing was one of the many tools in his arsenal. And it appeared that Grace had plenty of practice. He brought both hands to her neck and stroked his thumbs along her windpipe. So easy.

He let the kiss linger before she pulled away.

“Well? Coffee?” he quietly asked.

She smiled, and he knew he had her.

“Grace?”

Desmond stiffened, and she turned toward the male voice. He glanced over his shoulder.

Two uniformed police officers approached them.

“Hi, Miah.”

Grace stepped around Desmond and accepted a hug from the cop. She greeted the second one by name as well.

The desire to shrink away, to go unnoticed, became a physical need. Only one of the cops was looking at him with eyes that only law enforcement seemed to have. Questioning, accusing, and judging.

Desmond lifted his chin and let Grace introduce him. Anything else would have been met with a whole lot of trouble.

Somewhere in the handshakes and names that he quickly forgot, Desmond heard Grace say, “They worked with my dad before he retired.”

“Is that right?”

“A lot of us knew Grace when she was in a training bra.”

Grace slapped a hand to the cop’s chest. “Don’t listen to him, Dylan. I never wore a training bra. I went straight to a D cup.”

The older of the officers closed his eyes. “Too much information, Gracie.”

These men were entirely too familiar with her.

“Fine, fine . . . go away. You’re crashing my date.”

More kisses to cheeks.

“Nice meeting you, Dylan. Be careful with this one. She’s loved in this town.”

Grace laughed and made shooing motions with her hands. “Police harassment. Get lost.”

As they walked away, she was all smiles. “How about that coffee?”

Desmond lost his fake grin and took a step back. “I can’t.”

It took time before his words reached her ears. “What?”

“I lied to you.” It was time to turn this around. “I can’t do this.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Lied about what?”

“My wife . . . she didn’t die. She’s divorcing me.”

Grace rolled her eyes and dropped her arms to her sides. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

He took a step forward. “I know. I’m sorry. In my defense, everything else I said was the truth. I haven’t dated in years and have no idea—”

“Stop.” She held up a hand. “Just stop. What a douche.”

“Please don’t hate me. My wife is mentally ill and as much as I’m trying to let go, I still feel responsible for her.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better? Do you feel justified?” She shook a hand in his direction. Made giant sweeping motions. “My dad always told me not to date a guy in a suit. The shoe fits.” She turned a one-eighty and walked in the opposite direction.

“Grace?”

Her middle finger waved in the air as she strode away.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Twice Erin had woken up in the night with fractured dreams, and twice Matt wrapped her in his arms and reminded her she was safe. Although she hadn’t slept the whole night through, she managed to step to the kitchen before Matt rolled out of bed. When he joined her he slipped behind her, wrapped his arms around her waist, and rested his chin on her shoulder. His familiar greeting was something she felt herself craving when he was in the room.

“What are you making?”

“Pancakes.”

He kissed the side of her neck. “To help replenish my reserves after last night?”

“Yes and please.”

He laughed and moved away to fill a cup of coffee.

“You look like you’re feeling better,” he said.

“I am. I like that we have a plan that doesn’t require me to change my name and deplete my entire bank account on another move.”

He leaned against the counter wearing nothing more than a pair of jeans and a smile. “I like a plan that keeps you close.”

She walked over, kissed him softly, and turned back to their breakfast. “We have about an hour before Renee calls. I say we enjoy the morning before the next round of chaos.”

They sat outside and watched the world wake up while they ate, slowly marking time until they were both watching the clock.

“Don’t you work tomorrow?” Erin asked.

“I switched shifts. Until we have a handle on this ex of yours—”

“You need to work.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll figure it out.”

She glanced at her phone for the time, 8:50. “Ugh.”

“We have dinner at my parents’ at five thirty. Grace answered last night’s text this morning, said she’d be there.”

He was making small talk.

“What should I bring?”

Matt’s eyes lit up. “Brownies.”

“You’re going to turn into one of those at this rate.”

He placed a hand to his chest. “I’m already too sweet, I should probably share.”

As she started to laugh, her phone rang. They both looked at the phone while she answered. “Hello, Renee.”

“Hi. How are you?”

“Good.”

“Did you like that watermelon cooler I told you about?”

“Yes, I did. It was wonderful.”

Matt glanced at her. “What is up with that?”

“I take it your firefighter is still there,” Renee said.

“I am.”

“Good. I have a lot of news.”

Matt reached out and grasped her hand in his. “We’re listening,” she said.

“I spoke with Desmond’s attorney last night and again this morning. Last night he assured me Desmond was in Greece and went on to say that he is threatening legal action if you go forward with another unfounded restraining order.”

“Someone tampered with my car.”

“I might have suggested that Desmond might need to seek a criminal defense attorney that handles domestic violence and attempted murder.” Renee chuckled. “That shut him up.”

“Only we don’t have proof it was Desmond.”

“Right, but his counsel doesn’t know that. And I only tell him what he needs to know. Then this morning I received word that Schwarz filed a motion to withdraw from the case.”

“What does that mean?” Erin asked.

“It means Desmond’s attorney no longer wants to represent your husband in this divorce.”