I handed the check to the locksmith, smiling at him. I could sense Ben hovering behind me, watching but saying nothing. He’d been stonily quiet ever since he came inside, and Grace left. Mom was sleeping, so that had made for a lot of awkward silence. “Thank you.”

The man nodded and inclined his head. “Have a nice night, ma’am.” He left, the last of his tools and the faint scent of his cologne trailing behind him.

The door clicked shut, and I took a deep breath, not turning around just yet. What had I been thinking, inviting him inside like this? What happened now that we were alone? What was I supposed to say? Thank you for coming home with me? Please don’t tell anyone about this? Why didn’t you call me after I left?

None of those seemed right, so I settled for the easiest thing I could think of. “Would you like a drink?”

He stood, swiping his hands on his thighs, hesitating. I could practically see the wheels turning in his head, calculating the pros and cons of accepting my offer. What did he think I was going to do? Jump him? He studied me, his gaze intense and his mouth pursed. After what felt like ages, he nodded. “Yeah, I’d love a drink.”

“If you’d rather go—”

He frowned. “Sarah.”

“Yeah?”

“I said I’d love a drink, and I meant it.”

“Okay.” Not saying anything else, I headed for the kitchen, my cheeks hot. There I went, overthinking everything again. “Beer or whiskey?”

“What kind of beer?” he asked from way too close behind me.

“Guinness.” I glanced at him over my shoulder. “That still your favorite?”

“You remember my favorite beer?” he asked slowly, narrowing his eyes.

“Of course I do.” I opened the fridge, taking one out and offering it to him. It felt cool against my fingers, a welcome change from the consuming heat inside me that threatened to eat me alive because his fingers were about to touch mine. “Back then we weren’t old enough to drink it yet, but we won’t talk about that.”

“We weren’t old enough for a lot of the things we did.” He took the bottle from me, his fingers indeed brushing mine, just like I’d thought they might.

My stomach clenched into a tight fist, and I jerked back abruptly. “True.”

He cocked his head at me. “Yeah.”

After he cracked open the beer, he handed it to me, then reached past me into the fridge to grab another for himself. As he did so, his shoulder brushed against my stomach, and it took every ounce of self-control not to lurch back to ensure it didn’t happen again. Every time he touched me, he awoke memories best left for dead.

“Speaking of things that we shouldn’t have done, remember that night at the baseball field?” he asked out of nowhere.

I groaned and took a sip of the beer he’d given me. “How could I forget?”

“I can’t believe you actually did it,” he teased, grinning. When he smiled like that, his eyes lit up, and I instinctively moved closer to that brightness. To that warmth.

When we were still kids, he’d dared me to run the bases naked, and I’d done it. A few Guinness’s had been involved in that decision, but when he’d laughed, stripped down, and joined in the fun, I’d never felt more alive. And when he’d backed me against the batting cage and pressed his open mouth to mine, I’d been sure my heart was going to burst into pieces. We’d been young, stupid, and in love. That had been a month before I’d “found” him in bed with another girl.

Staring at my beer bottle, I said, “I didn’t want to back down from a challenge.”

“Are you still that girl?”

“The one who runs bases naked?” I shook my head. “No. I follow the law now. It’s kind of my job.”

He leaned on the counter, crossing his ankles. He made such a simple position look so damn sexy. It just wasn’t fair. “When’s the last time you broke it?”

“Uh…” I bit my bottom lip, thinking hard. “In college, I tried pot once.”

He choked on a laugh. “Once?”

“Yep, once.” I tucked my hair behind my ear, refusing to be ashamed for being a law-abiding citizen. “You?”

“I tried it more than once in college.” His lips twitched. “But never since I decided to become a cop.”

“What made you want to be one?” I asked hesitantly. When I’d told him I wanted to go to college for Criminal Justice, he’d rolled his eyes so hard I’d teased him about permanent damage. Last I remembered, he’d sworn to never become a stick-up-his-ass detective like his father, and yet here he was. With a stick up his ass like his dad. “Why did you change your mind?”

“I don’t really know,” he said with what struck me as complete honesty. “One day, I’m going to Somerton University for Business, and the next, I’m changing majors to Criminal Justice. I just thought about it, and realized that’s what I wanted to be.” He shrugged. “Guess I grew up, and stopped trying to be different from my father.”

“Guess so.”

He tapped his fingers on his bottle. “I thought you were going to go to law school?”

“When I applied to Duke, I still wanted to be a cop, so I got in under that major. I wanted to go, so…” I broke off, not looking at him.

“You wanted to go so badly, you were willing to change majors?” he finished for me.

I nodded, not saying anything. There was nothing to say.

“So.” He stared off into the distance. “How long has your mom been sick?”

“It started getting really bad last year. I noticed little things, like she’d call me, confused about the day, or even the time. Then over the months, it got steadily worse. When I came home to visit last time, she asked me who I was. I immediately contacted a doctor, and they told me she was developing dementia, and that it would never go away. As of now, there is no cure.”

He flexed his jaw. “Jesus.”

“She doesn’t even recognize me half the time. She thinks I’m a nurse. The doctors said to roll with it, since it upsets her if I try to correct her, so when she asks me to check on myself—you see, in her head I’m still a child—I tell her I’m fine, and that I’m in bed sleeping with Mr. Annie, my favorite stuffed animal.” I shrugged my shoulder. “It calms her down. I’ll do anything to take care of her, to make her feel better, so I pretend not to be me.”

He stepped closer. “But what about you?”

“What about me?” I asked, my heart picking up speed because he’d stepped even closer to me.

“Who is going to take care of you?” he asked softly.

I stiffened, alarm bells going off in my head. “Me.”

“All by yourself, with no help.” Another step closer.

“Y-Yes.” I forced my feet to stand still. “I told you, I don’t need help.”

“Everyone needs help,” he repeated. Another step had him directly in front of me. I had a little bit of room left to retreat, but I forced myself to stay still. “Were you going on a date tonight?”

“Yes,” I said, confused at the sudden change in topic. “Grace set me up with him, I’d never met him before.”

“Is now the best time for blind dates?”

I blinked. “Um… Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Please tell me you’re not on Tinder, or anything stupid like that.”

Now I frowned. What the hell business was it of his if I was? “Why do you care whether I’m on Tinder?”

“I care because your ex could make a fake profile, or somehow fool someone who doesn’t know him into setting up a date with you.” He snapped his fingers. “Just like that, he’d have you.”

Well, crap. I hadn’t even thought of that. Grace had no clue what Vinnie looked like, so she easily could have made friends with him, and then set me up on a date. Far fetched? Sure. But I’d solved enough crimes to know it wasn’t an impossible scenario. I could have easily walked into a trap tonight, and no one would have been able to save me.

Not even myself.