Friday night, Riley set her table and checked on the potatoes roasting in the oven. Trevor was due over any minute.

At first she wasn’t going to invite him here for dinner, feeling it was too soon for that. But then she realized that having dinner didn’t mean anything else other than…having dinner.

If she made sure the house was extremely tidy, she didn’t care. It was like that most of the time anyway, but she did walk through more than once looking for anything that might be out of its normal place.

When the doorbell rang at six, she walked forward and opened it up, shocked to see him there holding a box of chocolates.

“Are you trying to make me fat, or do you just think I’m an extremely stressed person that can’t handle things?”

He laughed, walked in, and kissed her cheek and that felt just about right. “No hidden agenda other than I wanted you to be able to grab a bite in a hurry to calm yourself if you needed it. Why get worked up for no reason? Not that I didn’t enjoy the fire in your eyes the other day.”

He had a point and if she secretly ate a truffle in between patients earlier today, she wasn’t confessing. “Your explanation sounds reasonable enough.”

“Shoes on or off?” he asked when he looked down at her bare toes. She’d changed into comfortable shorts and a sleeveless top when she got home.

“Your choice.”

He hesitated a second and then slipped off his sneakers. This was more casual than she’d seen him before. He had on a pair of cargo shorts and a T-shirt. A nice fitted T-shirt. Damn, he had a nice body on him. No gun and no badge, and when he walked by she noticed he had no wallet in his back pocket, either. Not that she was staring at his rear, because she wouldn’t do that. That would be too obvious, especially after he’d caught her admiring his arms. She’d never had an arm fetish before, but found it was a nice thing to pick up if they looked like Trevor’s.

“Gun’s in the SUV,” he said, reading her mind. “I figured I wouldn’t need it in the house. Not unless you plan on attacking me. Even then, I wouldn’t fight you off.”

She laughed at him. It was said as a joke with underlying currents of sexual tension. “When I’m ready to attack you, you won’t need a gun at all. You won’t even have time to reach for one.”

“Is that a promise?” he asked, pulling her in and hugging her tight. She could get used to this and wondered why she was fighting it so hard. But then she reminded herself that she had to take it slow. Jumping in head first to an unknown body of water wasn’t smart, and regardless of anything, she’d always been smart.

“It is.”

He nuzzled his nose against her neck, kissed her lips, and then released her. She was slightly disappointed and heaps of aroused. This playfulness from a guy was new to her, but extremely welcomed.

“Why don’t you come on back to the kitchen? If you don’t mind, you could have a beer and relax while I cook.”

“I could do that. I like the colors you went with,” he said, looking her house over.

She glanced at the light gray throughout most of the downstairs, and the light blue in the kitchen. Just enough for a change, but not so much it felt forced. She’d decorated with grays, metals, woods, and splashes of dark blue here and there.

“I do like color, but toned down. This seemed to call to me.”

“What color did you do the upstairs?” he asked.

“You might find that out someday.” She said it with a smile, being up front and clear that it wouldn’t be tonight.

“I can’t wait for someday,” he said, sitting on a stool at the island where he could watch her cook.

She turned and pulled out two beers from the fridge. “I wasn’t sure of your preference, so I bought what we had the other night and a few other craft ones. I’ll drink anything you don’t like, so don’t feel obligated.”

“I’m not really fussy when it comes to craft beer. I’m sure whatever you bought will be just fine.”

She poured them each a glass and then set about cooking dinner. “You come across as a meat and potato guy, so I’ve got potatoes roasting in the oven and a nice filet for dinner.”

“I eat just about anything. I’m not all that fussy about food, either. If someone goes to the effort to cook for me, I’m going to eat it.”

She liked his easygoing nature but wanted to make sure it wasn’t forced. “Are you always this laid back and agreeable?”

“I am,” he said.

She pulled a cast iron skillet out and put a dollop of butter in it, then lit the burner on the range. “That seems odd to me for the chief of police. I’d figure you’d be walking down the street and people would be reenacting the parting of the seas to give you room, but instead they come up and start chatting.”

“Both a curse and a blessing. Getting to know everyone and earning their trust goes a long way in a small town. People talk when they trust you. Brute force isn’t always what is needed. I’ll leave that to the State Police.”

Yet she had a feeling he could be brutal if pushed just right. There was something under the surface that seemed to want to foam up. She found that rather exciting, too.

When the butter was melted, she placed the perfectly trimmed filets in the skillet, getting a nice sear on them. After flipping them over, she started to spoon the butter over them in a smooth rhythm.

“You sure do look like you know what you’re doing there,” he said, a touch of admiration in his voice.

“I’ve attended a few cooking classes in my time.”

“Really? Any particular reason why?”

She’d wanted to learn. She’d wanted to impress. She’d wanted to be able to have a spouse some day and make nice meals for him. Nice romantic meals that they could share together in the peace and quiet of their own space. “I like good food and don’t always feel like eating out.”

“I like food in general. But good food makes it all the more enjoyable.”

“One hundred percent effort,” she said, winking at him.

They ate in relative silence, at least on her part. He talked more about the town and all the funny stories and scenarios he came across as chief. It wasn’t just missing tools, but neighborhood spats, toilet-papered houses and, the best one of all, smashed pumpkins two weeks after Halloween.

“I’m telling you, I still don’t know what the big deal was. Those kids saved Mrs. Wilson from throwing those moldy pumpkins out. They did her a service smashing them in the road since she needed help to pick them up to begin with, but she didn’t see it that way.”

“Did you ever catch them?”

“Nah. It could have been anyone out of hundreds. It happens every year. I’d rather see them get it out of their system with silly things like that that don’t do any real damage, than breaking and entering, destroying property, or causing accidents speeding up and down the roads. Even egging has stopped around here for the most part.”

“Really? I thought most kids did that on Halloween.”

“They did. But some woman caught an egg right in her eye socket that was thrown by a teen. There were a bunch of them horsing around, throwing them at each other. She was an innocent bystander. The ten stitches, a scar, and potential lawsuit caused most kids to stop. Deep down, it’s a good town.”

“It’s a hard lesson to learn,” she said, thinking of the crime where she used to live. Smashing pumpkins and egg throwing didn’t even warrant more than a blink.

“It is. We deal with the typical nuisances in the area. With the State Police so close, they take over on most things and I let them. They’ve got more manpower and resources. I’ve learned to play nice. We’ve got a mutual respect for each other now.”

“That’s good. You always hear about state and federal agencies throwing their weight around and running over the local police.”

“It happens. It didn’t with my father, and doesn’t with me. Or maybe it did more so with my father in the beginning, but then stopped when I became an officer. That’s probably why I worked my way up so fast before he retired. I’m not much like him and they figured I’d be easier to work with than some of the other officers that had been around before my time.”

“No hard feelings from others?” she asked.

“If there was, they kept it to themselves.”

“It’s good to know that people can accept change so easily. Gives me some hope.”

“No such luck at work?”

She pushed back from her plate and picked up her glass. “I know someone cut the wire, but I’m not pushing it. I had a meeting and let them all know I knew it wasn’t necessarily an accident, and that I wouldn’t tolerate more of them. I offered to provide more training for those that are still struggling.”

“Anyone take you up on it?”

“Actually, one person did and then three more joined in. No one stayed late for help with me yesterday. One girl came in early this morning, but the others didn’t. I’ve got a rep from the software company coming out one day next week again.”

“Did you ever think you might intimidate them?”

She hated that she knew he was right. “There isn’t much I can do about that. I try to be open and friendly with staff, but I’m not there to be their friend, either. Someone has to be the boss. Someone has to make the decisions. That’s me.”

“Agreed. You probably know the best way to handle things. But it’s good that they know you’re firm.”

“And fair. I want them to know I’m fair above anything else.”

That was important to her. She didn’t show favoritism to anyone. If staff worked hard, she rewarded them for it. If they didn’t, then there were consequences to that. But as long as someone tried their hardest, she’d keep giving them opportunities and chances.

“I think deep down they probably know that. For what it’s worth, I’m sure one of your staff did cut the wire, but I’d be surprised if you found any more issues along those lines.”

“There will always be staff issues, I know that. I just don’t want roadblocks to my business.” She stood up and gathered her plate. “No, sit down. Relax. I’ll get dessert.”

“You made dessert, too? I’m starting to feel real special right now.”

She leaned over and grabbed his plate, purposely rubbing against his back, then whispered in his ear, “I like to make people feel special too.”