Text Appeal
: Chapter 11

“Let’s dance,” says Brian, who is basically the last person I want to see.

I don’t spare the sneer. “No thanks.”

My new German friend just raises an eyebrow at the sweaty man. Disdain done well is an art form. It sort of makes sense that she’s here. With her work as a photographer, Ava must meet all types of people. Including tall, stunning, and intimidating supermodels who have maybe followed her halfway around the world. What a romantic gesture that would be. Most of the people I’ve dated wouldn’t even follow me down a dark hallway.

But Brian isn’t finished. Hell no. He puffs himself up and says, “In case you haven’t noticed, your date’s ditched you. Not a surprise given what you’re up against. You’re lucky I’m giving you the time of day.”

“Do you feel lucky?” enquires my new supermodel friend. And for the record, German accents are hot.

“Not so much. You have some white powder around your nose there, Brian.”

He sniffs and wipes his nose with the back of his hand. What a gross goddamn creep. But it’s when he grabs my wrist with the same hand that I really want to get violent.

“Let me go,” I say while attempting to remain calm.

“Just listen.”

“Brian, get your fucking hand off me.”

“Nice language,” he snarls. “There’s no need to be a bitch. I am doing you a favor.”

“And I said no. Now let me go.”

Things are happening around us. The crowd on the dance floor parts to let someone through. However, I am too busy to notice who. It would be great to see the security the idiot mentioned in his speech. There’s a good chance I’m going to attack this asshole with my glass of cider.

“This guy bothering you, Blue?” asks Connor in a deceptively calm tone.

I could not be happier to see him. I tug my hand free of Brian’s while he’s distracted, and take a step back out of easy-grabbing range.

“She’s fine. Jesus. Calm down, Connor,” says Brian. “You got a temper like your father.”

My date says nothing. He just stands there seething. The muscles in his neck seem to have thickened and his hands are curled into fists.

“We were just gonna dance.” Brian leers at my breasts with a smug smile. “You should be thanking me for taking care of your leftovers.”

“Don’t talk to her. Don’t touch her. Don’t even look at her,” says Connor. “Keep your eyes on me.”

There’s no warning when Brian attacks. It all happens so quickly. He swings wild, which makes sense given his condition. But Connor is ready and steps into it, taking the hit straight to his cheek. It must hurt and he does flinch. Though why he would volunteer to take the hit is a mystery.

“C’mon,” says Connor. “You can do better than that. If I stand still do you think you can hit me without any help this time?”

With a growl of rage, Brian surges forward and swings again. His aim has indeed improved. Connor doesn’t have to move to catch this punch. It smacks him straight in the mouth, making his head rock back. A thin line of blood oozes down his chin. The sight makes my stomach tumble.

Several gasps and a startled shout are heard from our audience. Then, with no hesitation, Connor smashes his fist into the other man’s face, knocking him off his feet. Brian hits the floor and it’s over. This part of the night, at least.

“Don’t worry,” says Ava. “I’ve called Denise.”

I lock the driver’s-side door of the Mustang. “Not to be salty. But is she really the best idea in this situation?”

“Trust me. I know the family history.”

“She has a point,” says Katja, who it turns out isn’t a supermodel after all. She is in fact a successful singer-songwriter in her native Germany. “Ava knows these people very well. You’re new to town, right?”

I nod reluctantly.

Connor gave me his car keys before the cop took him away. Because of course Brian said he was pressing charges. What a dick. It makes no sense since he threw the first punch. The first two even. But here we are at the local police station as the last of the sunset gives way to night. I followed Ava and Katja in her rental. There’s a whole world full of tension between the two. Katja’s surprise appearance seems to have shocked the shit out of Ava, and there are lots of nervous side glances going on.

The police station is just a basic boring government building. Gray floor tiles and matching walls greet us inside. The misery is monotonous and there’s not much ambience to speak of.

One of the things about being a writer is a tendency to mine your life and experiences for inspiration. In theory, this should all be new and interesting. But all I can think about is Connor. I’ve been experiencing a mini meltdown ever since I saw him take the first punch. It keeps playing over and over inside my head. I hate that he was hurt. Add him being carted off by a cop and I am freaked out and furious. I hate violence, but I am ready to do some if someone doesn’t give my fake date back to me. Now.

I just have to keep telling myself he is going to be fine. We are going to get him out of here. And the universe had better manifest that shit on the double or else.

Brian sits in the waiting area holding a bag of ice to his face. A child sent to time out couldn’t be surlier. The little shit. He watches us with hostile eyes as we approach the counter.

“Let me handle this,” says Ava in a whisper.

I don’t like it. But I nod because she’s the calmer of the two of us.

Katja stands to the side, toying with the key fob.

“Hi, Gracie,” says Ava with a smile. “We’re here to get Connor.”

The redhead behind the counter in a neat black uniform opens her mouth to speak. But a voice booms from out back, “He’s spending the night in jail.”

“Is that really necessary, Chief?”

A tall, wiry man with neatly combed gray hair strides out. “Go home, Ava, and take your friends with you.”

“Be happy to just as soon as you give us Connor.”

“He’s being charged with assault.”

“When will that happen?” she asks calmly.

“To be decided. My son is still considering all his options.”

Brian glares at us. Leaning hard into being the victim. His black eye is impressive. That sucker is going to stay swollen shut for days.

“You can’t just hold him indefinitely.” Staying quiet was never a strength of mine. Dammit.

Brian’s dad doesn’t seem to have a volume switch. Everything he says is sent out into the world in shouty caps. There’s no hint of an inside voice with this man. “He’s a danger to the public.”

“Bullshit,” I say.

Ava winces. Whatever.

“You want to join him?” threatens the chief.

And I hate bullies. Just fucking detest them. “Sign me up, buddy!”

Which is when Katja slaps her hand over my mouth and whispers furiously in my ear, “Stop. You’re saying stupid things that do not help anyone, Riley. Take a deep breath and calm down.”

When she removes her hand, I nod and keep my mouth shut.

The chief smirks at me.

“Did Brian happen to mention that he grabbed my friend, Riley?” asks Ava with a smile as sweet as pie. “That’s assault too, isn’t it?”

The Chief’s smirk changes into a sneer. “I hope you’re not making things up, Ava. It won’t help your boyfriend.”

“I am happy to give you a statement,” I say calmly. “Katja was standing next to me at the time and saw it all.”

She nods.

I pull my cell out of my clutch. “Not to escalate things, but should I call my lawyer? It’s starting to feel like we might need her advice.”

“I don’t know,” says Ava, tapping a finger against her lips. “What do you think, Chief?”

He narrows his gaze on the both of us. There’s every chance this man loathes me and I do not care. Not one iota.

“What’s going on here?” Denise marches into the station with her purse held tight under one arm. Her uptight anger from this morning at the café has nothing on this avenging mother out for blood. “Get me my boy.”

“Dee—”

“Now, Larry!”

“I can’t do that,” says the chief in a softer tone. “He hit Brian.”

“Brian hit him first. Twice. Ava told me everything. And there are fifty-something people who witnessed it all and will be happy to give a statement. Though I doubt you want to do all that paperwork, do you?”

Chief Larry’s nostrils flare. He is not happy to be thwarted. “Those boys of yours are dangerous.”

“You’ve always had an axe to grind when it comes to my children. But it is not their fault Cynthia cheated on you. If you hadn’t dumped me to date a cheerleader, things might have turned out differently for both of us.”

Bright red spots appear on Chief Larry’s face. “There’s no need to bring all that up. It was a long time ago, Dee.”

“You broke my heart. Is it any wonder I didn’t make good choices?” she continues. “I wouldn’t change a thing, however, because then I wouldn’t have my boys. And they are wonderful, hardworking, kindhearted people who I am immensely proud of.”

“But their father—”

“Has been gone for years and has nothing to do with them. Stuart and Connor have grown into honest, upstanding citizens. I wish I could say the same for your son. But the scriptures tell us not to lie.”

“Burn,” I whisper in awe.

Ava gives me a smile.

“What will it be, Larry?” asks Denise.

Chief Larry crosses his arms across his chest. “I’ll need to think about it.”

“Funny thing,” she says in a deceptively pleasant voice. “I got here fast because I was picking up Martha from Bingo. Noor and Joyce are in the car too.”

He jerks his chin. “They’re all here? All three of them?”

“Mm.” Denise’s smile is all sharp teeth. “It wouldn’t surprise me if they had something to say about all this. I told them I was just dropping something off. That I wouldn’t be more than a minute. But we’re taking longer than a minute now, aren’t we? One of them will probably come looking for me soon and then they’ll replace out what’s going on.”

“Perhaps I can talk my son into accepting an apology,” says the chief.

Denise raises a brow. “Did I happen to mention tonight was bingo and brews? Those women are hyped up and hammered from sampling local craft beers. Just imagine all three of them in here giving you a piece of their mind. I sure am glad I am not in your shoes.”

Chief Larry grumbles something under his breath. Then he turns to his officer and says, “Go and get him.”

“Ava will go with you to make sure he’s okay. You don’t mind, do you, Larry?” asks Denise.

“Take the girlfriend with you.” Chief Larry stomps off to the back of the building.

“That’s Riley,” says Ava, avoiding the gazes of all those gathered. “She’s with Connor.”

Denise no longer looks as happy. But at least she’s secured her son’s freedom. “Thank you for calling me, honey. I’ll leave you to handle things from here.”

Ava nods. “You don’t want to stay to see him?”

“I’ll catch up with him tomorrow when he’s had a chance to clean up.”

“Okay.”

“Thank you,” I blurt out. Which may or may not be a weird thing to say. I am too worked up to tell and the etiquette for the situation eludes me.

Denise nods and heads for the door. Still with her purse tucked under one arm.

“Scheisse.” Katja shakes her head. “What a woman.”

“Are Martha, Noor, and Joyce really in the car, do you think?” I ask in a whisper.

Ava snorts. “Of course not. Bingo and brews never finishes before midnight.”

“Huh.”

“Let’s go,” says Ava.

Katja blinks. “Are you sure?”

Ava nods.

The lieutenant doesn’t say a word as she escorts me to the holding cells. What is there to say? Having your moronic bully of a boss get his ass handed to him by a small woman with a large purse sure is something.

Through a heavy locked door, down a long corridor, through another locked door, and into a room with several holding cells we go. As you’d expect, the station’s innards are bleak, oppressive, and depressing. Just lots of concrete and metal. Whatever’s the antithesis of cozy—that’s what this is. Neither a throw nor a cushion nor a charming vintage landscape of the sea in sight.

And why I’m focusing so hardcore on the furnishings is a mystery. My heart is beating double time. From fear or excitement or a combination of both, I do not know.

Connor is in the first cell. His brows draw together as he grips the bars. A raw and angry red laceration covers his cheekbone. The split in his lower lip has already dried. But his poor sore face is swollen in both places. Makes me want to march back out to the waiting room and hit Brian. Which would not be helpful.

I grip the bars and get in good and close. “Hey. Hi.”

“What are you doing here, Riley?” asks Connor. “Didn’t think I’d be allowed visitors. But I’m damn happy to see you.”

“I’ve come to get you out.”

“Have you?” He grins. And then he winces and gently prods at his lip. “How are you planning on doing that?”

“Ah, well, I baked you a cake with a file in the middle. Only problem is, all I had was a nail file so it’s going to take you a while. But better than nothing, right?”

“Do you know you babble when you’re nervous?” He wraps a hand around one of mine. “You’re trembling, Blue. Are you okay?”

“You’re the one who got hit. Twice even.”

He just waits.

“It’s been a night. But I’m fine. How are you doing?”

“I’m okay.” Then he turns to the lieutenant and asks, “Your boss in a better mood yet?”

“Worse if you can believe it,” says the lieutenant.

Connor grunts. “You’ll have to have your hero do hard time now. What with him being based on me.”

“Can we really call an hour or so hard time?” I ask.

He flashes a smile at me. Then flinches again. Ouch.

“Ma’am, you’re blocking the door,” says the lieutenant.

I step back. “Sorry.”

“What’s going on?” He turns to the lieutenant and asks, “Grace, is she in trouble?”

“No.” Grace unlocks the cell door. “She’s telling the truth. You’re getting out.”

“What about the assault charge?”

“You’re not up on any charges,” she says. “You’re free to go.”

His eyes widen. “Thank fuck for that. What happened?”

“Your mother tore Chief Larry to shreds,” I say.

He blinks. “No shit?”

“Did you know they dated in high school?”

There’s a patch of dry blood on his white tee. He grabs his jacket off the uncomfortable-looking bed before stepping out of his cage. His smile is small and lopsided in due deference to facial injuries. But the relief in his whole body is immense. Little lines around his eyes relax and his shoulders sink down to a more manageable level. He takes hold of my hand and gives it a squeeze.

That’s the moment when I can finally breathe again.

Connor lives a ten-minute drive away on the other side of the peninsula. We head to his place since he has ice packs in his freezer while I only have ice cream. The A-frame cottage is built on a rise with views of the water and the distant mountains during the day. Towering fir trees surround the buildings. Night birds and bugs and the distant crashing of waves fill the air. The place is magic. Just like something out of a fairy tale. Give or take the big four-bay garage and another shiny vintage muscle car parked in the front of the property.

He didn’t lie about the size of the place. It is cozy. An open, airy space with wood paneling and decks in both the front and back of the building. The front and rear are made of glass. During the day there’d be so much natural light. In the interior, on the main floor is a combined lounge and dining area, which leads into a galley kitchen. Then there’s the bedroom with a walk-in closet, bathroom, and laundry room. The loft upstairs is set up as an office and has a private veranda.

It is fascinating to be in his home. To search for hints about who this man is deep down. Not that there’s much to see. As far as décor goes, he’s a minimalist and scrupulously neat. There’s a cool old wood stove, a big comfortable-looking tan leather sofa and a solid wood dining table with bench chairs. Upstairs there are some family photos on the office desk along with a tangle of devil’s ivy growing out of an old bottle. But that’s about it. And there are no shoes in the house, so we’re both barefoot.

“Let me see.” I get between him and the mirror in the small plain white bathroom. A box of medical supplies sits on the counter.

“Finished snooping?”

“For now. You gave me permission to look around. Therefore it’s not exactly snooping, is it?”

“If you say so. Did you replace anything interesting?” he asks with amusement in his gaze. His jacket is gone and his hair is in disarray. About what you’d expect after the night we’ve had.

“No. As anticipated, you’re very dull.” I shift his hand, moving the ice pack so I can inspect the abrasion on his cheek. There’re a few inches at most between our bodies. It’s a tight space. “Has this been cleaned?”

“Grace took a look at me at the station.”

“Let’s make sure.”

“I’m sorry tonight turned out the way it did,” he says. “It’s not something that usually happens. The last time I got in a fight was over five years ago. One of the bartenders at the Lighthouse had broken up with this guy. A big dude, used to be a wrestler. He came in and started hassling her. It took a group of us to throw his ass out.”

I douse a cotton pad in alcohol and carefully pat his poor sore cheek. Then I do the same to the cut on his lip.

He winces as I work.

“You’re being very brave, Connor. I will definitely give you a sticker for participation after this.”

“Thanks.”

I go back to playing nurse. “Is there something on my face?”

“Hmm?”

“You keep looking at my face.”

“No. I just like your face.” He reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. Then he says, “Another ladybug. Those things must really love you, huh?”

Heat rushes to my cheeks. But I can ignore it. This is fine. He’s just messing with me.

“Are you blushing?” he asks with amusement.

“No. Shut up.”

He smiles.

“How long do you think it’ll take for this gossip to get around?”

“I’d be surprised if there weren’t strained thumbs all over town from people texting,” he says. “Anyone who doesn’t know by now will replace out at church tomorrow. Pastor Mike will definitely give a sermon all about it. They’ll either hear then or when they go to get their morning coffee.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you want me to take you home?”

I think it over. It doesn’t take long. “People will expect us be together. I’ll stay here if that’s okay?”

He just nods.

“I’m sorry he said what he did about your dad.”

“I don’t care what he thinks about me or my father.”

I raise my chin. “Then why did you hit him? Because he hit your first?”

“No. I could have dodged him. But he shouldn’t have touched you.”

I pause. “It was about me?”

“Yes.”

“Oh,” I say, surprised. “You don’t have to get into fights because of me. The last thing I want is for you to be getting into trouble.”

Connor leans in closer, and in a voice so deep it shakes me to my core, he says, “He shouldn’t have touched you, Blue. That was not okay.”

“You’ve given me a nickname?”

“Mm. Is that a problem?”

I shake my head. “No.”

“What would happen next if this was one of your romance books?”

“With the town?”

“No. With us here.”

“Um. Emotions would be high after the fight. Something like that causes a high-stress state so lots of hormones would be flowing. The characters in question are hetero, right? So, the hero would be dying to bang, have the hard-on of the century. But often the heroine is oblivious to his state of arousal. She might be a little shaken from the violence and focusing on the fact that he’s hurt.”

“She’s still processing.”

“That’s right.”

He cocks his head. “She doesn’t want to have sex?”

“I didn’t say that. It just hasn’t occurred to her yet that she’s in what is potentially a sexually primed situation.”

“Okay. What does the hero do?”

I clear my throat. “He might make some sort of overture toward intimate relations. Or she’ll accidentally stumble upon his previously mentioned hard-on of the century.”

His brows rise. “What if it’s only the hard-on of the year or like the financial quarter? Would that still be acceptable?”

“You’re funny.” I pause to inspect my work. “I forgot to tell you. A friend of Ava’s arrived while—”

“I don’t want to talk about her.”

I shut my mouth. There’s a weird vibe in the tiny room. Like he’s taking up all the air and my brain is not doing so great. I don’t know. He’s just this huge smoking-hot presence towering over me, leaving no room for rational thought. But removing myself from the situation isn’t an option. Because there’s nowhere else I’d rather be. Being alone with him and getting all his attention is a heady thing.

Without a word, he reaches back and pulls his blood-stained tee off over his head. Such a hero maneuver. I would applaud if I had control of my limbs. The way the muscles in his arms flex. It’s almost as good as the revelation of his upper body. Picking a favorite part is impossible. There’s the width of his shoulders and the expanse of all that smooth skin. How my fingers itch to touch.

“We should, um, rinse your shirt to get the blood out,” I say. “That would be the smart thing to do.”

“I like it when you look at me like that.”

“You do?”

He nods.

And I can only assume he means when I look at him like a thirsty wench. Which is kind of him to say. Most men would laugh at the drooling. As much as I would like to be a cool girl, it never quite sticks. But he’s already seen me be a sweaty, babbling mess and I’m still here so…

He doesn’t say another word. Just stands there staring down at me and his focus is absolute. Like nothing else in this moment matters.

It takes me a second. Then it apparently takes several more because I’m in quite a haze. “Connor, are you trying to say you want to have sex with me?”