Chapter Seven

Naomi

The rest of the night goes off without a hitch. I get a lot of compliments on my cheese biscuits, and I hope they’re enough to get everyone to forget the little altercation with Skippy and his little group of friends. The last thing I need is people spreading the word that unsavory people frequent my joint and it’s unsafe to eat at. If that happens, I might as well try my luck back in Chicago, even though I love being back home more than anything.

A young couple finishes their lobsters and pays their bill, and, to my great relief, this night has come to an end. This day has felt like an eternity. Somehow, I managed to get arrested and released and still make it to work to finish out the night.

All in all, I’d call that dedication.

“Whew! My feet are killing me,” Katie says. She turns a chair around and plops down into it, resting her chin along the back. Her expression grows serious as she looks at me.

“Hey, thanks for what you did tonight, standing up for me. That was awesome. You looked like a Greek goddess standing up to that guy.”

I laugh at the comparison. I pull a bottle of red wine from the rack and pop it open. I pour two healthy glasses and hand her one.

She holds it up in a toast. “To surviving the scourge of this town and preserving the integrity of this restaurant!”

“Hear, hear,” I agree, and I clink her glass with enthusiasm. The crystalline sound echoes across the empty room.

“And to knights in shining armor,” she adds with a gleam in her eye. “May they always show up exactly when we need.”

My brow furrows at this addition, and I don’t raise my glass.

“I didn’t need any help. I was about to shove that guy’s ass right out the door.”

“Uh huh,” Katie replies, taking a drink. She pulls out a wad of bills and starts counting her tips, which are much larger than usual, thanks to Skippy’s pile. I take a sip of wine, but I don’t finish the glass. I’m too on edge to drink, even though it seemed like a good idea at first.

I slide my glass over to Katie. “Here. Have a party.”

“You leaving? What a slacker,” she teases, and I grin back at her as I head toward the kitchen.

“You’re right, but after the months it took to get this place running, I think I’ve earned the right to slack every once in a while.”

“Or to have some romance,” she retorts, wiggling her eyebrows at me.

“The wine is clouding your judgement. I’m leaving before it gets worse.”

The sound of her laughter resounds behind me as I bid goodnight to poor Paul, who has been the soul of patience this evening even with my absence. I thank him for being such a great team player, and he nods, his eyes warm at the praise. I have a soft spot for Paul, because he reminds me of my brother. I look out for him, as I would Alex.

The thought of my brother sends a rush of sadness through me, and I bid Paul goodnight. I head out the back, not willing to suffer any more teasing from Katie. She means well, but she’s wrong. If I never see Ben again, I’ll be better for it.

“Hi.”

I step out of the alley behind the restaurant only to find Ben leaning against his personal car—an old, brown truck. I release a frustrated breath, and a puff of steam comes out in the cold.

“Haven’t you had enough of me for one day?”

I realize, too late, that this is a loaded question.

Ben has had more of me than many other men out there, and he’s likely remembering how much went down earlier. I want to regret it, but I don’t. A tiny part of me, the part I generally like to ignore, would like to give him more.

Of course, that’s a terrible decision, so I shove it into the back of my mind.

“I thought I’d walk you home.”

A laugh escapes me at this, and I find myself smiling against my will. I turn back to my front door, mere steps away.

“Great job, you did it. You can officially write in the record that you kept me safe tonight.”

“Walk with me,” he says. It’s a question, made in the form of a statement. I can tell that if I say no, he won’t protest, but I don’t want to. I hate that.

“Why?” I ask.

“Because it’s a nice evening, and I would like to take you for a walk.”

“Maybe you should get a dog. I hear they like to be taken for walks.”

“Do you fight this hard about everything?”

“Who said I was fighting?”

“Are you coming or not?”

“Oh, now we’re getting serious. As long as you promise not to detain me again, I’d be willing to do one loop around the dock.”

Even in the dark, I see his lips twitch, and I crave him more than ever. Against all better judgement, I want to suck on that full bottom lip of his, maybe take a little bite. Maybe taste a little lower. Or a lot lower.

The twilight has befuddled my mind. I give my head a gentle shake and walk up to stand next to him, nodding ahead with my chin. “All right then. Let’s get this over with.”

“Get what over with?”

“Whatever scheme you have crafted. Is this some kind of ploy to get information out of me?”

“Must everything be a trick with you?”

“You tell me,” I counter, and he walks on in silence.

The ocean laps against the shore, waves caressing gray stones then pulling back toward the sea. I inhale. I love the scent of the ocean at night, paired with the cold. Fall is in the air, and the promise of a new season, of change, always fills my heart with excitement.

“Do you come down here often?” he asks. He glances out at the boats, and his expression is hard. This is killing him. He wants answers, but he’ll be disappointed. I’ve got nothing to share.

“Not to this exact place, no. I meet a lot of our fish and lobstermen out down the way a bit to negotiate prices.”

“So, you don’t own a boat or anything?”

I look up at him. His chin is strong and angular. The shadows of night cast against his face make him look even more domineering than usual, and, to my dismay, I find it hot as hell.

“I had nothing to do with the theft, Ben,” I say.

He looks down at me and searches my eyes, seeking answers there. I stare up at him. I have nothing to hide. He might as well figure that out now, so I can save myself another arrest.

“Do you remember anything about the man you saw on the boat? Anything at all that might prove helpful as a clue?”

I reach into the corners of my mind. I’ve been trying to hold onto any image of that man, of the situation, but my defense mechanisms are hard at work. I recall the barrel of the gun, the black mask, but nothing beneath it. I tell Ben as much, and he nods, walking on.

“That’s normal for victims of crimes like this,” he says. “But if you do remember anything, you’ll tell me?”

“Of course, I will. I want that asshole to be caught, too. It’s not every day someone tries to kill me.”

“Well, now, that is good to hear,” he says. The humor in his voice is comforting in the dark, and I nudge his shoulder with my own.

“Shut up,” I say.

“Fine,” he agrees. We walk back to my place and stop at my front door. I glance at the spot where he fucked me earlier, my back pressed to the wall. Will he make a move again? I turn to look up at him.

“Well, thanks for stuff.”

“I’m sorry, ‘stuff?’”

“Ugh,” I grumble. “Thanks for saving my ass tonight. It was helpful.”

“See? That wasn’t so hard.”

“And now I regret it. Goodnight, Sheriff.”

He looks down at me. Is he going to kiss me? I’m perfectly happy to have another go. This guy knows what he’s doing with a woman’s body, and I wouldn’t mind taking full advantage of that. He steps back, and a pang of disappointment hits me in the gut.

“Goodnight, Naomi. I’ll be in touch.”

“About the case?”

I sound so desperate. I wish I could take the words back.

He nods. “Yes. About the case. Sleep well.”

He turns and walks off into the night, back to his truck. I stare after him a moment, safe in the shadows. Does he trust me, or does he still suspect my involvement?

Could he have sex with me and still think I’m an accomplice?