Seana Kelly - Welcome Home, Katie Gallagher

The cop rumbled, “Ma’am, can you please explain what happened to your vehicle?” His eyes glinted in the low light.

I was done being patronized, done with the barely veiled condescension. “Look, I’m not drunk, and you need to quit calling me ma’am! I’m twenty-five, for God’s sake, not eighty. ‘Causing an accident’? Seriously? I’ve been sitting here for an hour, and you’re the first car that’s come by!” I threw the door open, trying to tag him in the thigh as I got out.

He moved remarkably fast, sidestepping the initial swing before stopping the door with one hand.

“And—” I turned to look at the dusty, battered car, with its duct-taped rear window and side panels riddled with deep dents. “That? Pfft. They can buff that right out.”

“Ma’am, you need to get back in your vehicle. I didn’t tell you that you could step out.” Steel threaded through his voice now.

Damn, he was a lot bigger than I’d thought. I should have stayed in the car. No. I was done agreeing with men who used their size and authority to cow me. I’d had enough.

“I am not drunk and I’m not a hazard, so leave me the hell alone! And stop calling me ma’am! Twenty-eight is not a ma’am. I’m a miss, damn it! A miss!” I’ll admit I was kind of shrieking there at the end.

The cop raised his eyebrows in mild surprise. “Looks like we’ve got ourselves a rip in the space-time continuum.”

Fine. I was thirty. Whatever.

He took a step back, resting his hand on the firearm secured at his waist. Okay, in hindsight, screaming at a cop probably wasn’t the best way to start putting my life back together, but sometimes it’s hard to stop the scream. After years of quietly acquiescing, the pressure had built. Outrage seeped from the fissures. I’d become a little Chernobyl of screaming, in voice and in deed. I needed to give more thought to the fallout, though.

Chaucer sensed the tension, not that it was hard to miss, leaping over the seat and out the door to stand between the cop and me. I shivered and reached out to weave my fingers through the thick, warm fur of his brown, bearlike head, pulling him toward me. I didn’t want the cop to get any funny ideas about my dog being a threat. Plus, he was an excellent windbreak and space heater.

The sun was starting to rise, dark sky bleeding to red. The cop’s face was turned away from the light, but he looked vaguely familiar—dark hair, light eyes, a strong, square jaw and a crooked nose. I didn’t know him, and yet there was something.

He glared down at me, his jaw clenched. “Ma’am, I’m going to need you and your dog to get back in your vehicle and calm down. You need to give me your license and registration.” He slid the flashlight into his belt and waited for me to decide what to do.

The fight in me died almost as quickly as it had flared. I leaned in past the driver’s door and snaked my arm around to open the back door, as the handle on the outside was missing. Chaucer hopped back in. I dropped into the soggy driver’s seat and reached into the glove box.

I rummaged in drive-through napkins and salsa packets to find the owner’s manual with the registration tucked inside. I handed him that, and then started digging through my bag for my wallet. Hands shaking as the adrenaline waned, I surrendered my license. The quirk of his eyebrow told me that he’d noticed. At least he was no longer clutching his gun, so maybe I’d get out of this without being slammed up against the car and handcuffed. That would be nice for a change.

“I’m going to need you to stay right here while I call this in.” I started to nod, but then he busted out the ma’am.

I stared daggers into the son of a bitch, not that he seemed the least bit concerned. I was almost positive I saw a grin before he turned and walked away.

Part of me was angry, but mostly I was exhausted. I wanted to curl up under one of Gran’s quilts and sleep off the last three months. Hell, the last ten years.

When I had opened Justin’s Visa bill, it had been an accident. Two envelopes were stuck together. I thought I was opening a phone bill, and instead I discovered that my husband was having an affair. It was either that or he really liked to take naps in the middle of the day at the Embassy Suites while wearing expensive lingerie.

I’d thought for a moment there had been an error. The credit card was under his company’s name, but those were charges for hotel rooms, restaurants, jewelry stores... Where the hell were the OfficeMax and FedEx charges?

White noise had filled my ears and my head began to throb. I was pretty sure I’d forgotten to breathe. Right before I’d passed out, I wondered if he’d get in trouble with the IRS, if he’d actually written off his skank-related expenses and whether or not I was in trouble, too, since we’d filed joint returns. Weird, the things you think about as you go under.

When the cop strode back, I took a moment to appreciate the thick, muscular thighs his uniform couldn’t hide. “Chaucer, I’ve recently discovered it’s the little things that make life worth living.” Objectification may be wrong, but it sure was fun. Asshole or not, the man was beautiful.

I turned to the cop and said, “Everything all right, Officer?” I hope, I hope. Last I heard, charges hadn’t been pressed. Or they’d been dropped. One or the other.

He stared, and I felt sweat beading on my upper lip. “Ma’am, there’s a notation on your license about a destruction of property allegation.” He looked significantly at the abused sedan I was driving. “And resisting arrest. Do you know anything about that?”

I rolled my eyes. “Resisting arrest? What kind of whiny cops complain about having their hands slapped? I’d be embarrassed if I were...” I trailed off as I watched his fingers drumming the handle of his gun. “I mean, resisting what?”

“And destruction of property,” he reminded me.

I looked up into his light blue eyes and felt a familiar jolt. “Well, see, I contend that since this BMW is in my name, too, it’s not destruction of property so much as adding air holes to better ventilate my portion of the car. Allegedly.”

He appeared as stern as ever, but I could have sworn the corners of his eyes crinkled. “I see. Do you have a lawyer you’d like to call before you follow me to the station?”

I’d met with a divorce attorney before I’d left California and headed east. She was not going to be pleased with me if I ended up in cuffs again.

“I do, but as she’s on the West Coast, and it’s two in the morning her time, I should probably go it alone, although you can expect to hear ‘I’ve been advised by my attorney to remain silent.’ A lot. I’m sure if she were here, she’d tell me to keep mum.”

The cop’s mood seemed to have shifted. He leaned one arm against the roof of my car, gazing out toward the ocean. While he contemplated life and whether or not he was going to allow me to continue partaking of it, I flexed my superficial, objectifying muscles. His jacket was hanging open, so I could see that those broad shoulders narrowed to a flat stomach. I tried not to look below the waist, but it was right there, framed by his big utility belt. I may have been new to this, but I was a fast study.

He cleared his throat. When I peeked up, he was staring back at me, eyebrows raised. Busted.

CHAPTER TWO

Aiden

SITTING BACK IN the cruiser, I watched Katie shove her dog’s head out of her lap. Her mouth was moving like she was talking to the damn thing. She glanced up, noticed me watching her and gave me a big, fake smile before finally starting that heap she was driving. She spun it around, kicking up rocks, and then waited for me to lead her to the station.