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It was a perfect Thursday afternoon. Aside from a complaint of loitering teens, there hadn’t been a call all day. David was off today, and Emma had the sheriff’s station all to herself. Well, mostly. But she’d forgive the intrusion since Killian brought her a grilled cheese sandwich with a side of onion rings.
Of course, he was ruining her attempt to enjoy the toasted, melty goodness with a dramatic groan. She glanced at him. Slumped in David’s office chair, Killian ran his hand over his face, breathing out a massive sigh. He wanted her to ask what was wrong, so of course she wouldn’t. That was how their odd friendship worked, ever since they met a year and a half ago when the Brothers Jones came to her sleepy tourist town to run boat trips out of the bay.
Hello, love. What’s your name?
Not your love.
I like a tough lass.
You can like this one in your dreams.
“The bloody bastard scheduled me to captain the Nifty Fifty cruise,” Killian complained.
Emma raised her brows. “The one with all the cougar ladies? I thought Liam promised to take it this year.”
Killian made a face. “It’s too close to Elsa’s due date.”
“Look on the bright side,” Emma replied. “It’ll probably be more action than you’ve seen all year.”
“You aren’t wrong,” he grumbled, but then his mood suddenly lifted along with one of his eyebrows.
She knew that look. It had gotten her nearly arrested by her own brother for breaking into the equipment rental shop to borrow a volleyball and net for a late-night beach party. Killian sweet-talked David into giving them a warning; the double fee they’d left on the counter helped.
“Whatever you’re thinking,” she warned, “leave me out of it.”
Killian rolled his chair toward her. “But Swan, you’re at the very center of my plans.” When she shook her head, he spread his hands. “Hear me out. What if you came along on the cruise, and perhaps—” he gave her those sad puppy-dog eyes, “—acted as a buffer of sorts?”
“How?”
“By pretending to be my girlfriend.”
Now it was her turn to groan. “Killian—”
He hurried to speak over her. “There will loads of food and an open bar.” He got down on one knee and clasped his hands. “Please save me from this torment. I’ll bring you grilled cheese for a week.”
Emma looked heavenward, knowing she’d already lost the battle. “I want grilled cheese for a month—and hot chocolate.”
He rose to his feet with a dazzling smile. “With cinnamon and whipped cream. You’re a bloody hero, Swan.” He planted a quick kiss on her cheek and said he had to get back to work.
She took a bite of her sandwich, forcibly ignoring the flutter in her stomach. They could do this, fake a relationship for one night.
And if her cheek still burned later when she went home. That didn’t mean anything.