Page 5 of Reeve

“Didn’t have much of a choice.”

“Oh.” He clears his throat. “Huh. Okay. So youdon’twant me here.”

“Aaron, I really don’t care if you come along or not.”

“I should probably just go home.”

I don’t like the twinge of conscience I feel about being mean to him.

“How would that look? Your boss’s wife invited you to dinner. What excuse would you give for suddenly leaving?”

Hehumphssoftly.

Harper and Joe stop to admire the windows at the fudge shop, which offers small cups of hot cocoa to passers-by.

“Joe and I are running in for Miner’s Mint,” says Harper. “You want anything?”

“Nope,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest. A jaunty version of “Jingle Bells” floats out of the shop as Harper opens the door and steps inside, leaving me alone on the sidewalk with Aaron. I ignore him, admiring a beautiful gingerbread house in the left picture window.

From behind me, Aaron says, “I wish I knew what I did to make you hate me so much.”

“Don’t play the fool.” I turn around to face him. “You knowexactlywhy I hate you.”

His lips twitch with annoyance, but his brown eyes are soft as he stares down at me. “You wereseventeen, Reeve.”

It’s my turn tohumph.

“What did you expect me to do?”

Text me the second I was legal.

I hate that this thought slides through my brain. I don’t want to be attracted to Aaron, who still sees me as a flirtatious teenager who tried to honey-trap him when she was seventeen.

And honestly, that wasn’t my intention. I mean, I don’t think it was. Heck, I don’t evenknowif I had clear-cut intentions. I was flying by the seat of my pants—flirting with the hot, new cop in town. I wasn’t thinking about the age of consent or the legal logistics of going out on a date with him. He was cute and new, and I was intrigued—that’s all there was to it.

“Reeve,youmade a pass atme.Youaskedmeout, even though you were only—”

My cheeks flare sunburn hot. “Can we please not talk about it?”

“I’d like for you not to hate me.”

“Too bad for you,” I mutter.

Turning on my heel, I fast-walk down Broadway, only stopping when I get to the next set of windows. At a boutique called Lynch and Kennedy, whale tails in the window have been decorated artfully with white lights and silver garland. I stare at them, wishing I couldn’t remember the first time I met Aaron Adams.

Unfortunately, I do—in blistering detail, that is beyond humiliating in hindsight.

Three summers ago, when all six of us Stewart siblings were still single, and I was an EMT-in-training, a call came in at the clinic—possible anaphylaxis at the Parsnip. Aaron, Joe’s new hire, who I hadn’t met yet, met the ambulance outside the restaurant, clearing a path for me and the other EMT to head inside with a gurney.

We’d given the tourist, who hadn’t realized there were cashews in the Kung Pao chicken sandwich, a shot with anEpiPen, then loaded him onto the bus so we could take him back to the clinic. He needed an hour or two of observation before re-boarding his cruise ship.

“Reeve,” said my partner and mentor, Belinda, “good work in there.” She’d checked her watch. “Your shift is just about over, kid. I’ll head back to the clinic and punch you out. You enjoy the rest of your day.”

“Thanks, Belinda,” I’d told her, waving goodbye as she drove away.

Upon our arrival, I’d only gotten a glimpse of the handsome new deputy, who was still inside the Parsnip, giving the patient’s family directions to the clinic. So, I’d leaned against his police Jeep, waiting for him to exit through the Western-style double doors so we could meet properly.

I took off my EMT cap, unfastened my scrunchie and shook out my long, blonde hair. I was tall, with bigger-than-average breasts, which made me look older than I was. A tourist once told me I could pass for twenty-one.

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