He’d run into that policy before, throughout his career—women who were scared to fall for a man who might get shot in the course of a day’s work, women who disliked any kind of authority, women who only dated men with six-figure incomes. Even a few who had warrants out for their arrest.
“You don’t date cops,” he said, nonplussed.
“That’s what I said.”
“Why not?”
“I have my reasons,” Brynne responded, looking and sounding a little miffed now.
“Would you mind sharing them?”
“Yes, actually,” Brynne said, bristling by this point.
This was not going well.
Damn J.P. and Cord and their bright ideas.
“Fair enough,” Eli said, pushing back his chair. “Can I have the check, please?”
“No,” Brynne said. “This conversation isn’t over.”
“Well, you couldn’t prove that by me,” Eli answered.
“I don’t date police officers,” Brynne reiterated.
“So you said.”
“But I don’t mind having them for friends.”
“Friends? I thought we were friends already.” He paused, made a huffing sound. “I’m not sure where I got that idea, though, now that you mention it.”
Brynne laughed then, and the sound reminded Eli of the merry little bell above the front door. “Will you just dial back your male ego a notch or two and listen to me, please?”
He glared at her. “I am all ears,” he said.
She laughed again. “Your face! When was the last time you asked a woman out and got turned down, Sheriff?”
“About two minutes ago,” he replied.
“And before that, about twenty years, I’m guessing,” Brynne said.
Let her think that. He wasn’t obligated to tell her about the times he’d struck out.
“It’s my turn to ask. What the hell are you getting at?”
Brynne smiled again. “If you want to come to the New Year’s Eve shindig as my friend, and not my date, I wouldn’t mind.”
“That’s generous of you,” Eli said, drawing out the words.
Just then, the little bell over the door jingled, and a flock of high school kids blew in, including Eli’s sixteen-year-old nephew, Eric, and Carly, Cord’s daughter.
They were laughing, teasing each other, pushing and shoving a little.
“Hey, Uncle Eli,” Carly called brightly, unbuttoning the bright red pea jacket she’d gotten for Christmas.
“Hey,” he echoed, his voice hoarse again.
The girl looked so much like Reba had at that age. Fortunately, Carly was a better person than her mother had been, and talented, too. She sang, wrote songs and had built an impressive following on YouTube, though these days she was busy with school and working with animals.
Brynne was out of her chair, smoothing the floral print apron she wore over her slacks and blue blouse, greeting the kids cheerfully and helping them to push several tables together, in order to accommodate the sizable group.
Apparently, more friends were about to join them.
Eli was standing when Carly came toward him, snowflakes nestling in her caramel-colored hair and just beginning to melt.
Facing him, she stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek.
“We interrupted something, didn’t we?” she whispered. A mischievous twinkle lit her amber eyes.
Embarrassed again, Eli deflected. “Of course you didn’t,” he said. “Brynne and I were just talking, that’s all.”
“Liar,” Carly countered with a smile, keeping her voice low. “Did you finally ask her out?”
“Is the whole damn town playing matchmaker?” Eli demanded, but he couldn’t help a twitch of a grin.
“Probably,” Carly answered. “Did you?”
“Did I what?”
Carly rolled her eyes and, in that moment, she looked more like Cord than Reba. “Did you ask Brynne out?”
“Yes,” he answered. “Are you satisfied?”
“No,” Carly said. “What did she say?”
“She said she doesn’t date cops.”
More kids were coming through the door, and a few called out hellos to Eli as well as Carly.
Carly sighed dramatically. “She dated a police detective in Boston,” the girl confided, sotto voce. “I heard her telling Shallie about it once. Evidently, it was a real shitshow, and Brynne got her heart broken.”
“Language,” Eli said, with mock sternness.
Carly laughed. “Right.”
“Go join your friends,” he told her.
She kissed his cheek again, then did as she was told.
Eli carried his check to the cash register and waited for Brynne to take his money.
When she did, he handed over a twenty.
She made change. He add it to the tip.
The kids were making a ruckus, but it was a happy sound, full of holiday merriment. They were hoping for a heavy snowfall so they could sled and go snowboarding in the nearby mountains.
“So,” Brynne asked quietly, meeting Eli’s gaze and holding it. “Are you going to be my guest at the New Year’s Eve party or not?”
He imagined the scene. Practically everybody there would be a friend of Brynne’s, so he wondered how she thought this thing was supposed to go.
“I might stop in,” he allowed.
“I hope you do,” Brynne replied.
And the conversation was over.
Eli waved to the kids, and Eric gave him a thumbs-up. He and his nephew hadn’t always been on the best of terms—the kid had gone through a rough stage, gotten involved in some stuff he shouldn’t have—so Eli reckoned the gesture was better than a middle finger.
His shift was almost over for the day, and he was glad.
He’d go home, let the dog out, crack open a beer, kick back and watch a little Netflix.
Damn, he needed a hobby.
Outside, he surveyed the darkening sky, gunmetal gray and boding ill for snowplow operators, nervous drivers and the sheriff’s department.
The noise from inside Bailey’s was muffled, but it was poignantly joyous, too.
He thumbed the fob to unlock his SUV and headed toward it, head down, snowflakes chilling the nape of his neck.