Taking Connor(44)

“No need. I reckon if I were you, and I’d walked in to find . . . well . . . me sitting at my kitchen table, I’d about have a heart attack myself.”

“Why don’t you sit down, Demi. I’ll make you some coffee.” Connor motions for me to take a seat at the table and after a moment I force myself away from the counter.

“So, Dusty,” I begin awkwardly. I feel bad for almost chopping him into bait and hoping I’d hit an artery so he’d die quicker. “Where are you from?”

He takes his seat beside me and sips his coffee before answering. “I was born in Texas, but I hail from Tennessee these days.” Now I know where his epic Southern accent comes from.

“And how do you and Connor know one another?” I ask as Connor sits a mug in front of me. I sip it without thinking, but can’t help looking at him after I do.

“Did I get it right?” Connor asks with a smirk.

“Yeah, you did.” He made my coffee just the way I like it. He’s never made it before, and I’ve never mentioned how I like it, which means he must have watched me make it several times. I stare up at him and despite my feelings of regret from the events that transpired between us the night before, I want so badly to stand up and kiss him. Then I remember myself.

Wasn’t Roxy here last night, too? Didn’t I see her?

“Thank you,” I say, my voice husky. “So how do you two know one another?” I turn my attention back to Dusty, hoping it’s not too obvious to Connor that I did so.

Dusty gives Connor a sideways look as if asking permission to tell me. Connor sighs and moves to the counter and starts cracking eggs over a bowl. “We were cell mates, Demi.” He doesn’t turn around, and I wonder if he thinks I’ll judge Dusty—or him.

“Ohhhh.”

“I got out three years before Connor,” Dusty notes. “If it hadn’t been for him, I would’ve never made it out.”

“How so?” I ask.

“It’s not important,” Connor interrupts. “All that matters is he made it out.”

My brows rise at Connor’s quick interruption. Dusty gives me an awkward smile and shrugs one shoulder in apology. “Go ahead and ask.”

“I’m sorry?”

“You want to know why I was in, right?”

Damn, I do. I really do. Am I sitting across from a murderer or a rapist? Who is this man that Connor shared a cell with? I mean, Connor was in prison for manslaughter which is basically a murder sentence. Did Dusty kill someone too? But even though this man is sitting in my house, I still feel rude asking.

“I wasn’t going to ask,” I respond before taking a large sip from my mug.

Dusty chuckles, a look that oddly, despite his tattoos and shaggy hair, is quite handsome and endearing. “She’s every bit a lady, just like you said, Connor.”

My brows rise again for the hundredth time this morning. Connor told his friend about me and called me a lady?

Connor doesn’t turn to acknowledge his statement, but from where I sit I can see his mouth quirk up a smile. “That she is,” he agrees.

“Well, seeing as I’m sitting in your kitchen, drinking your coffee, I feel like you should know. And, seeing as how Connor is a good buddy of mine, and I hope to hang out with him more since I just moved here, and to do that, I might want to be invited back to your house, with your permission, of course, I feel I should tell you.”

His proclamation surprises me. Is it ridiculous to think him volunteering the details of his conviction is gentlemanly? “Dusty,” I say, as I lean over the table and pat his hand where it sits. His head rears slightly as if he’s surprised by the gesture. “You don’t have to share if you don’t want to. I trust Connor. I know he would have never brought you in my house had he not trusted you wholeheartedly. And since you’re his friend, I hope I can call you mine, too.”

I stand and push in my chair. Connor has turned, his eyes fixed on me, an expression of awe on his face. I return a soft smile, letting him know I meant every word. I do trust him—wholeheartedly.

“I know I must look awful,” I huff. “Do I have time to wash my face and dress before breakfast is ready?”

“Ten minutes,” Connor responds, watching me with mirth filled eyes.

“Be right back.”

As I exit the kitchen, I can’t help smiling to myself when I hear Dusty say, “One hundred percent lady.”



It took me fifteen minutes to get back to the kitchen. I decided on a quick shower instead. Then I had to rewrap my toe. The cut doesn’t look so bad today, thankfully, and I find when wearing flip flops it’s manageable. Connor has set plates on the table and is dishing eggs out when the screen door creaks open. I close my eyes. Damn.

“Demi! Where are you at you two cent hooker?” Lexi rounds the doorway and stops in her tracks. She looks like she managed a shower this morning before showing up unannounced.

“Good morning, Alexis,” I mumble.

“Hey, Lexi.” Connor juts his chin in acknowledgment. “Want some breakfast?”

Lexi gives me a bright smile as she bats her eyes obnoxiously. “Why, I’d love some, Connor. How kind of you to offer.”

I shake my head as she scurries toward the coffee pot and pulls a mug from the cabinet above while Connor sits another plate out and dishes some eggs on it. When she finishes, she takes a seat on the other side of Dusty and smiles. “Hi.”