Page 4 of Sunsets & Slow Dances

I might not have any sisters by blood, but I had an amazing group of friends in Ashley, Zoe, and Daphne. They were my soul sisters. I hugged her tightly as tears pricked my eyes. Her lifehadn’t been easy; her parents died when she was nine, and her sister raised her. Her boyfriend of twelve years cheated on her with her best friend, whom he got pregnant. It was nice to see a good person get the karma they actually deserved. But now she had Declan, and she was going to be a mom.

“So are you going to hold off on Artistic Horizons?” I sniffed back my emotion as we both lowered back down in our chairs.

Ashley, who double majored in art and psychology, was starting a non-profit after-school program for kids in kindergarten through twelfth grade to use art for therapy and also self-expression. She’d asked me to come on as the program manager, and I’d gladly agreed because the renovations on this house were not going to pay for themselves, and teaching was not the most lucrative of occupations.

“No.” She shook her head. “Everything is still on track. I’m not going to postpone opening. Declan isn’t too happy about it, but I’ve waited so long to do this. It’s been my dream since I was a little girl.”

I loved seeing how protective Declan was over Ashley. I knew if he had his way, she’d be covered in bubble wrap in her bed the entire pregnancy. He just wanted to protect her and keep her safe. It was actually quite sweet.

Another knock sounded at the door, and Peanut began barking again as he scrambled to the front door.

“Are you expecting someone?” Ashley glanced over her shoulder as she began to stand.

“No.” I was up out of the chair before her.

Peanut beat me to the door. “Sit. Stay,” I instructed him as I opened it.

When I did, I found Will, my date from the night before, standing on my porch. His sandy blond hair that had been tousled was now disheveled. Dark circles exaggerated the hollow beneath his eyes. The crisp button-down white shirt he’d wornthe night before was completely unbuttoned with his undershirt half tucked into his wrinkled slacks. He looked as if he’d had a rougher night than I had, and that was saying something.

“Hey.” His greeting landed somewhere between sheepish and flirtatious.

“Hi,” I said flatly.

“I just wanted to make sure that you got home okay.”

I wasn’t sure how the night ended between us, but I had a feeling it hadn’t gone well. I remember we’d kissed at midnight, but then I had a fuzzy memory of a disagreement. Something about him wanting us to hookup in the bathroom, if I recall.

“Yep. I did.”

“I know that things sort of got heated last night, but?—”

“It’s fine, Will. Don’t worry about it. Really.”

I started to shut the door, but he stopped it with his hand.

“Let me take you out to lunch, or brunch.”

“I’m not interested, but thanks.”

“Come on, please. Don’t be like that.”

“I’m not being like anything. I don’t want to date you. Thanks for stopping by and checking on me.” I shut the door in his face. The last thing I wanted to do was waste more time on a man.

Nope. This was a new leaf. My dry D January was going to be my dry D year.

No drinking.

No dating.

No dick.

2

CALLUM

“Callum Knight.”Chief Dawson’s voice boomed as he stood in the doorway of his office at the back of the police station. His thumbs were tucked in his suspenders, and his beer belly hung over his signature silver belt buckle with dual gold pistols in the center. His heavy booted footsteps thudded on the hardwood floor as he approached the front desk. Standing six foot six, over three hundred pounds with a thick salt-n-pepper goatee and a weathered scar that slashed diagonally across his right cheek, Chief Dawson was intimidating in both size and appearance. “If it isn’t the prodigal son. Boy, you are the spittin’ image of your daddy.”

I’d been back in my hometown for approximately twenty-six hours after not stepping foot in the city limits for a decade, and I’d heard that same sentiment a dozen times so far.

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