Watching Simon walk away, Leona debated whether he'd only pretended to get a call so he could escape from her line of questioning.  But no, Simon Labelle would never fake a phone call. He was too decent.

            With a sigh, she ate another forkful of pasta. Interrogating Simon about his love life wasn't the nicest thing to do. But Leona wasn't nice. Everybody knew that. And Simon was fascinating. He'd always been so dutiful and responsible, he was practically the poster boy for the town of Grenton—except for the fact that he, unlike everyone they went to high school with, wasn't married with two kids.

Why was that, really?

She poked contemplatively at her pasta with her fork, searching for scallops. He was busy, she was sure of that. Work would always be his first love. But he would still be thoughtful. He even seemed to care about Leona's feelings, and she'd never understood why anyone would care about those.

            The waiter came by with their second courses. A moment later, Simon slid back into his chair across from her, immediately distracting her from her entrée. What a strange thing, to be at a proper dinner with a man. Especially this man. He was wearing a button-down and khakis, as if Leona were a respectable girl. The pale blue shirt brought out his eyes.

"Sorry about that," Simon said. "I'm training the rookie and he had a question about some paperwork."

            "Oh, yeah, Jack, right?"

            "Jack Miller."

            "I've seen him around. He has the hots for my fashion protégé."

            "Yeah?" His mouth quirked. "Who's that?"

            "Emma Pinette. She works at the shop part-time. We're keeping it fresh, you know."

            When Simon smiled, his whole face lit up. His eyes actually twinkled. Leona had always thought that was just an expression. He had such a stern face, normally, but suddenly he looked so approachable—the kind of man you could tell anything to.

            "Paul wants to sell me the shop," Leona blurted out. She immediately regretted it and wished she had said absolutely anything else. More intrusive questions about his love life, sob stories about her childhood, anything.

            Simon's eyebrows shot up. "Okay."

            This is not how you make friends, Leona, she told herself sternly. You can't just say things at random.

"What did you tell him?" Simon asked.

            "I asked him to let me think about it." And she'd done nothing else but think about it, obsessively, since he'd asked her a week ago. "He offered me an outrageously low price for it, too. He wants to retire."

            "And you've been working there for, what, a decade?"

            "I started when I was sixteen, so...thirteen years."

            "Wow. And you love it there?"

            "Yes."

            "So what's the problem?"

            She didn't know how to explain the abyss that opened up inside her at the thought of Paul retiring. She had never felt anything like it before. Paul had always been there. The world could never be that dark for her, as long as he was there.

But even she knew that an internal abyss was not proper dinner conversation. "Don't you ever want to leave Grenton?"

"I know a lot of people do."

            "But not you?"

            "Not me. I like it here."

            "You want to work your way up to Chief, like your dad?" She hardly needed to ask; she knew he did. He was that kind of guy: ambitious, but only because he wanted enough responsibility to do a good job. When he nodded, she said, "Must be nice—to know what you want, I mean."

            "Yeah, I guess."

            Leona set about decimating her veal, which was even more delicious than the pasta had been.

            "You should go for it, Leona," Simon said quietly.

            "Do you mean the last slice of bread? Because if so, you are absolutely right."

            "I obviously mean the shop. Look, I saw you in there yesterday. You looked..."

            "Cross-eyed?" she suggested. "I swear it was the lighting."

            He gave her an exasperated look. "I was going to say happy."

            "Ah. That." She was happy there. For now, she was happy.

They finished their entrees, and he asked for the check. "Thank you for dinner," she told him as they walked out of the restaurant, shrugging on their coats against the bitter night. "It was really delicious."

            "That place is one of my favorites," he said, which made her wonder where else he had taken his three long-term girlfriends and various short flings. "I really am sorry about the other day. I don't—"

            "Oh, no need to worry about that with me." She waved a hand as they crossed the parking lot toward Lulu. "You had a shitty week. I get it." She'd had the occasional drink or joint by the lake herself. It was peaceful there. "I kind of liked it," she added, both because she knew it would make him crazy and because it was true.

            "You liked what?" He stopped and turned toward her. Just behind him, Lulu's paint shone under the streetlight, but Simon stood in shadows, his face hidden by darkness. They were so close together she could have reached out and touched him. 

            "I liked seeing you a little out of control," she said quietly, her skin prickling. Lose control with me.

He made a low, rough sound, deep in his throat, as if he'd intended to speak—to chastise her, she had to imagine. She could see his shoulders rise and fall with each hard breath, silhouetted by the streetlight. Desire crackled off of him.

He might have asked her out as Christmas charity, but he wanted her, too, whether he would admit that to himself or not.

            It would be so easy to take his thick wrist in her hand and draw him in toward her. Right now, he would let her; she could sense it.

            "Did I shock your delicate sensibilities?" She kept her tone light and teasing.

            "You're constantly shocking me," he growled. "I get the feeling you enjoy it."

            "I really do."

If she took one step forward, she could cup his face in her hands. What would he do? Would he let her kiss him? What would it be like?

Her foot edged forward. Her whole body seemed to be straining toward him, wanting him—but at the last moment, she shook herself and tore herself away.

            She didn't know what this was. She had never done anything like this before. She couldn't act, even if she wanted to.

            She got into Lulu's driver's seat and, a second later, Simon climbed in beside her. Her heart skipped a beat. Stop it, she told herself. This was all hopeless. She should never have accepted his invitation to dinner. She didn't do candlelit Italian dinners with nice local boys; she did play parties and hook-ups and various and sundry dirty things.

            Though it had been a couple years since she'd done any of that, truth be told. She had gotten old and dull.

            Taking a deep, fortifying breath, she started up Lulu and pulled out of the parking lot.

            "Leona...you want to do this again sometime? Hang out, have dinner?"

"Is that code for fucking?" she asked in a rush, desperately relieved.

            Simon actually flinched. "What—no!"

"Ah," she murmured, stung. "Sorry... I misread the signs. It happens." This must have been just a pity date after all. Charity from the upstanding officer.

            Simon ran a hand through his short hair. "I'm not saying I'm not attracted to you. I was thinking we could try out a couple dates."

            "Oh." Some of her lovers had asked her about that over the years, but she'd always turned them down. She preferred to keep things simple, cheerful, with clear-cut rules and expectations.

            "Forget it," he said. "You're not interested, it's fine, I'm sorry I asked."

            "No..." She stopped at a red light and snuck a glance at the shadows outlining his cheek and jaw, his eyelashes, the straight bridge of his nose.

She had left the scene two years ago because she was tired of it, and she had no desire to go back to it now. She wanted something else...something more. Something she didn't know how to possess.

"I'm interested," she said, trying to keep her voice steady.

            "Okay." He took a deep breath. "Jesus."

            They drove back to town in silence. Leona felt...raw. Exposed. She glanced at him again. He was staring out the window, as if he wanted to escape. She couldn't blame him.

******

Thank you so much for reading! I'll be uploading new parts every week or so, but if you'd like to read the full novel now, you can find buy links in the story description, or at my website, www.londonsetterby.com.

Thank you again!

xoxo,

London