"Something crawl up your ass and die or what?"

Payton scrunched up her nose and looked at Morgan, trying to understand why he did that. Things would be going good and he had to go be a jerk and ruin it. They'd been having a nice lunch, the three of them, and Morgan managed to derail the conversation. Her partner on the rig, Charlie, left to go over and talk to one of the fire guys, leaving her alone with Morgan.

The conversation with Brock came back to her from two nights ago, and she wondered why things happened the way they did.

"Why do you do that?"

"What?"

The big man shrugged his broad shoulders, acting like he had no idea what she was getting at.

"Why do you persist in pushing women away?"

He blinked his big blue eyes and gave her a cocky smile, but she could see the question affected him. "I don't know what you're talking about, Hanniford. I offered you a quickie in the back of the squad. It’s a perfectly legitimate way to communicate, in my opinion."

Payton sighed and shook her head. "We were actually having a real conversation Morgan, about romance and love, and Chad's upcoming wedding, and you ruined it. I never slept with you before and I'm not going to start now. You know that."

She started gathering up her trash. The squad was unlocked because they were within sight of it, so she'd just walk back and hang out until Charlie was done talking.

The park in the Honeywell Square boasted a gazebo for concerts in the summer, as well as a walking path peppered with benches. On the opposite end of the park was a nice shady playground surrounded by picnic tables. When the weather was nice, this was a popular break spot for the fire department, the Sheriff's department and the EMS services, which all had buildings across the street.

The tall county courthouse and the county administration building were on Walnut Street, perpendicular to the Sheriff's department, but there was an elevated walkway that crossed from the jail directly over to the courtroom. That had been built a couple years ago and had really been something to talk about in the fine town of Honeywell, which hadn't seen much economic growth for the past several years.

Recently, though, things had been changing. There were a few businesses that had picked up their offerings to the people, and smaller businesses were building around them all the time.

But with more business came more work and more people… and unfortunately more crime. The sheriff's department had been adding a couple deputies a year, and Morgan had been hired last year. He'd been a cop in Amarillo, but wanted a change, so he came with several years’ experience. He seemed to be a really good cop. But he hadn't gotten the personal side of his life as straightened out as the professional.

"Don't go, Payton," he told her now. "I'm sorry I offended you. I really didn't mean to."

She paused, trash still in her hand.

"Come on, have a seat. I want the rest of your fries anyway."

Sighing in consternation she settled back to the opposite side of the picnic table, dropping the half-empty fry box in front of him. “Sometimes I don't know about you, Morgan. You make it hard to be your friend."

"I know I do," he said softly, "and I appreciate you putting up with me. But why do we need to talk?"

"Because if I don't talk to you about this mess, no one else will. Did you hear back from the DNA service?"

"Yeah," he sighed. "As soon as the baby is born we can send a sample to confirm paternity."

"Have you heard from Bethany?"

He shook his head, blue eyes narrowed against the light of the day. "Not since what's-his-name came back."

There was bitterness in those words, but resignation too. He'd had a hell of an affair with Bethany Chapel, two counties over in the little town of Dunkirk. Too bad she hadn't told him she was married. She'd told Morgan he was going to be a father, but everything else she'd said so far had been a lie.

"Just because her husband came back it doesn't mean he'll stay."

"I know," Morgan sighed, slipping his wraparound sunglasses over his eyes. "I just thought, I don't know... I thought she'd kick him out and prove how much she loved me."

Payton's heart ached for her buddy. Morgan was like this big eager puppy galloping through life eating treats, but now suddenly he was growing up and real life wasn't so sweet.

"Morgan, I'm not sure she ever loved you. And I'm not sure she was ever really separated from her husband. You realize that, right? You're two counties away and have no way of knowing what she's doing when you're not there."

He looked over at the kids on the playground and sighed. "Yeah, I know. I just hate that there’s going to be an innocent life in the middle of this mess now. I mean, whoever it turns out the father is, me or him, it’s not the baby’s fault the adults are screwed up."

And right there was the good-hearted guy that was her friend. "It'll all get straightened out."

Standing up from the table, he leaned over and gave her a hug, as well as a kiss on top of her head. He tugged her braid for good measure. "You're awesome, Payton. Offer still stands, y’know. If you ever need a quickie, I'm your man."

"I think she'll pass on that," a deep voice said from behind them.

Oh, shit.

Payton turned, wondering how Brock had chosen that exact moment to walk up on them, especially after the conversation they'd had yesterday. Specifically, when she'd been defending Morgan as such a good guy.

Payton stood up quickly, wondering if she was going to be in the middle of a pissing contest. "Hey, Brock. This is Deputy Morgan Hampton. Morgan, this is Brock Lowell."

Morgan glanced at her, his brows lifted in question. She gave him a tiny nod. Yes, this was the one she'd been talking about.

Morgan held his hand out to Brock, but Brock ignored it. His face looked positively thunderous and he'd crossed his arms over his muscular chest. Payton didn't think they'd actually get into it, but they were both cowboys and could be pretty hot-headed when the situation warranted.

"Why don't you head on back to the station, Morgan?" she suggested. "I'll talk to you later."

He looked about to argue with her, but he must have seen the warning in her eyes. With a smirk, Morgan tipped his deputy's Stetson at Brock and walked off.

"There was no reason to be rude," she admonished.

"He propositioned you," Brock said, planting his hands on his hips.

"He propositions me every day, but it's in fun."

Brock scowled, obviously not liking her answer. "And have you taken him up on it?"

It was Payton's turn to plant her hands on her hips. "You jerk. I'm disgusted you asked that. He's like a brother to me."

Brock turned to watch Morgan walk across the street. "You said you dated him."

"Yes," she said firmly. "If there's something social to do, we go together sometimes. Like the sheriff had a party for his daughter’s sixteenth birthday recently. It's easier to go with a friend that has no expectations than to try to finagle a date. We block for each other, it's that simple."

Brock scowled fiercely. "What the hell does that mean?"

"It means..." she snapped her mouth shut, suddenly aware that she almost blurted out something very personal that wasn’t hers to share anyway. "It means we both receive unwanted attention. If we go together, it helps to cut down on a lot of that."

Shit. She'd almost told him that they were both in love with people that didn't love them back and they had no desire to date. That would have blown his mind. He was so averse to even being drawn to her, she couldn't imagine what he'd say if she told him she loved him.

"Does Cheyenne know about him?"

"Know that Morgan and I block for each other? Yes. She likes Morgan too, by the way."

Brock threw up his hands in defeat and turned to walk away, but Payton caught his arm. "Hey, why'd you come over? Just to bitch at me about my lunch partner?"

"No. I came over to tell you that your fence was fixed and the tree cut away. I broke a chain on the saw and came in to town to get a new one when I saw you sitting here."

"Plus you saw Morgan so you had to check him out."

Brock tipped his chin up. "Yeah, maybe I did."

Payton gripped the end of her braid and looked him in the eye. "Thank you for fixing the fence. I could have done that or called Hunter to come help me. Did you check on Espresso while you were there?"

"Yes," he said softly. "She was fine. I freshened up her water and gave her a handful of hay."

Payton smiled, because her life was populated by difficult men. Brock was a pain in her ass, but he had a soft heart. And he was taking care of her, even if he didn't understand why.

"Thank you."

Resting a hand on his solid chest, she leaned up to give him a kiss on the cheek, but whether by accident or fate—maybe he turned his head—her kiss landed at the corner of his lips. They both opened their mouths and inhaled, breathing each other in. Payton's legs quivered as she held perfectly still on tiptoe, waiting for some reaction from him. No, fuck that. Why was she waiting?

Reaching a hand up to his neck, she closed the distance between their mouths, brushing her lips along his own. Brock held completely still for a long moment, as if trying to talk himself out of it, then shifted, tilting his head to seal their mouths together. The brim of his hat brushed against her head, but she couldn’t care less. Finally, after all this time, he was kissing her like a man was supposed to kiss a woman.

As his tongue flicked out against her lips, Payton opened her mouth, welcoming him in. One hard arm wrapped around her back, and the other hand cupped her head as his tongue glided into her mouth.

Payton groaned, arousal tightening her breasts where they rubbed against his chest. She'd wanted to spark a reaction, but she hadn't expected this.

The mic of her radio, fastened on the shoulder epaulette of her blue uniform, squawked in her ear.

"Medic 73."

Payton pulled away from Brock's lips, cursing under her breath. She drew in a deep draw of air, but ended up sabotaging herself. She could only smell Brock.

"Go ahead," she heard Charlie respond.

"I need you to respond to Johnson-Mathers nursing home. Possible cardiac patient."

She glanced across the square. Yep, Charlie was jogging toward the rig.

"Brock, I have to go."

He nodded, blinking. His bright eyes seemed a little dazed. "Go ahead. I'll see you tonight when you get home."

Payton heard the words but they sounded very strange coming out of his mouth. With a smile, she took off at a jog toward the rig.

---

Brock called himself ten kinds of fool as he watched Payton jog away from him, her curvy ass drawing and keeping his gaze, her black braid bouncing. His dick was rock hard and anyone that walked by would be able to see that.

What the hell had he been thinking, stomping over here to confront her, then kissing the living daylights out of her? In the middle of the damn town square, of all places! Where all of Honeywell could see! What happened to his decision that he wasn’t, they weren’t good relationship material? Totally flew out the window.

He glanced around. Yep, there was Marlene, the sheriff's bulldog receptionist, walking from the department over to the courthouse. It was obvious she'd seen everything, because there was a smile on her lipstick-covered mouth he could see from here, and her drawn-on eyebrows had disappeared into her silver helmet hair. She's have something new to talk about in that book club she ran.

Marlene was one of those people whose name was always followed in conversation with 'bless her heart'. She was one of the nosiest women he'd ever met, but she seemed to have a good heart. If she were meddling, it was for a reason. He knew the news of him kissing Payton would be all over town by the time he made it home. Maybe his parents wouldn't hear though, they were still at that resort down around Amarillo somewhere.

Brock cursed and praised the tight jeans he wore. Maybe no one would see how amazing he thought Payton was as he walked toward his truck parked across the street, his gait a bit stiff.