In Your Dreams (Blue Heron #4)(21)

“Yeah, right. You call Faith twenty times a day—”

“I call Faith three or four times a day, as she’s my wife and expecting a baby and it’s the middle of winter and I want to make sure she—”

“This one! This one,” Carol exclaimed. “If you don’t go out with him, I will.”

Em looked. Yep, the guy was gorgeous, all black hair and green eyes opened a trifle too wide.

“He looks a little psychotic,” Em said.

“Yeah, well, who looks good in a mug shot?” Carol asked. “Don’t be so picky. Even Robert Downey Jr. didn’t look so hot, and please. That man could be eating a can of cat food and I’d still want to sleep with him.”

“Inappropriate talk for the workplace, Carol,” Levi said. “Besides, Officer Neal, I thought my brother-in-law was going with you.”

“Who? Jack? No.”

“Faith said she was asking.”

“Why?” Emmaline yelped. “How did she even know?”

Levi gave her a martyred look. “It was announced at O’Rourke’s the other night. And it’s all you talk about.”

“No, it’s not!”

“Sure it is. Also, I may have mentioned it in the hope that you’d get your mind back on work.”

“Oh, please. Who went on seven calls yesterday, huh? It wasn’t Everett, let me tell you, Chief.” Levi raised an eyebrow and waited. “Besides,” she added, “I don’t want to go with Jack.”

“Why not?” Carol asked. “I’d go with Jack. Jack’s adorable. Those eyes!”

“Thanks, Carol,” came a new voice, and, shit, it was Jack himself. “Hey, Em.”

“Hi,” she grumbled.

Sure, he spoke to her. Of course he did. He was nice. They played hockey together (along with ten or twelve other people). When he came into the station, which he did every once in a while to talk to Levi, he always said hello (and goodbye). If she saw him at O’Rourke’s he’d say hello (and goodbye).

And, of course, the day of the Midwinter Miracle, he’d asked if Josh was dead.

But now, as her potential date, it was different.

Jack folded his arms and looked down at her. “Faith said you were looking for a date for a wedding.”

“Yep.”

“Don’t just sit there like a lump,” Carol hissed. “Smile at him. Who else are you going to take? A convict?”

“You didn’t have a problem with that ten seconds ago.”

“Smile!”

Emmaline tried to obey. Carol waited. Levi waited. Jack waited.

Had she mentioned he was extremely gorgeous?

“Okay,” Em said. “Maybe we could discuss this over a beer.”

“Sure.”

“Meet you at O’Rourke’s around six?” That way she could get home, walk the puppy and give herself a pep talk.

“Sounds good,” he said. “See you, guys.”

“Go!” Carol said. “Change into something feminine. Wear perfume. Men love that. Don’t they, Levi?”

Emmaline left, glad for the brief drive home, which gave her time to think. She rolled down the window and let the frigid air cool her cheeks.

Yeah, fine. She’d take Jack. Of course she would. When a Greek god said he’d go to a wedding with you, a wedding where you desperately needed to appear over the groom, you didn’t say no.

Even if it meant the loss of your dignity. Even if this was one cash transaction short of prostitution. The truth was, she’d rather take a stranger, because, for some reason, that seemed like it’d be easier to tolerate than a person who was so...nice. Who might (perish the thought) pity her.

She wondered why Jack was game. He sure as hell never asked her out. She wasn’t even sure he knew she was female, for all the interest he’d ever shown before.

But the day she’d moved back to Manningsport, her heart raw and scraped by Kevin, a floating, terrified feeling enveloped her as she lugged boxes into her little house. The whole thing was surreal. Could this really be happening? She was moving here? Instead of getting married? It had been a wet day in April, cold rain pelting her, mocking the brave little pink buds on Nana’s magnolia, and Em felt like she’d never be warm again. She’d never have Kevin next to her in bed again.

It was shocking.

No crying, she told herself. Just buck up. Big deal. You were dumped. Happens all the time.

Didn’t stop the hot tears from sliding down her cheeks.

Then a pickup truck stopped, and a man got out.

“Need some help?” he asked, and without waiting for an answer, he grabbed a box and carried it inside the little bungalow. “I’m Jack Holland,” he said. “My family owns Blue Heron Vineyard.”

“Emmaline Neal,” she said, wiping her eyes with her sleeve.

“Welcome to town.” He smiled, kindly ignoring her tears (because if he was a serial killer, he wouldn’t care about that—he’d just kill her and wouldn’t that serve Kevin right), and went back to her Subaru for another box.

She remembered the Hollands; she’d been a year ahead of Faith in school. Jack probably wasn’t a serial killer. She would’ve told him that she’d lived here for four years, that she once played at his house as a kid. But heartbreak was swallowing her whole, and it was all she could do not to sob. She wasn’t supposed to be here. She was supposed to be in Michigan with the love of her life. Her wedding was supposed to be in seven weeks.