“Coffee’s great, thanks.”
I busy myself in the kitchen, grateful to have something to do with my hands. Through the doorway, I can see Sawyer examining my bookshelf more closely, and I wonder what he thinks of the mix of classic literature and romance novels.
“Your grandmother had good taste,” he calls out.
“She was big into reading. That’s probably where I got it from.” I bring two mugs to the living room, along with the bag of study materials he retrieved from his car. “So what are we working on tonight?”
“Leadership principles and departmental policies,” Sawyer says, settling onto the couch. “The riveting stuff.”
I curl up in the armchair across from him, notepad in hand. “Okay, let’s start with something easy. What are the five pillars of effective police leadership?”
For the next hour, we work through flashcards and practice questions. Sawyer is clearly smart—he knows most of the material—but I can tell he’s nervous about the exam. There’s something endearing about watching this confident police officer get flustered over questions he’s probably reviewed a thousand times.
“Okay, you’re overthinking this one,” I say when he struggles with a budget scenario. “Just break it down step by step.”
“I suck at math,” he mutters, running his hands through his black hair.
“No, you don’t. You’re just psyching yourself out.” I move from my chair to sit next to him on the couch, our knees almost touching. “You’ve got this.”
I lean closer to point out something on the page, and suddenly I'm very aware of how close we are. Close enough to see how dark his brown eyes are. Close enough to feel the warmth of his breath.
"Alice." His voice is quiet. Different.
"Yeah?"
"I should probably go. It's getting late."
But he doesn’t move. Neither do I. My heart is pounding so loud I'm sure he can hear it. We’re just sitting there, study materials forgotten, looking at each other like we’re both trying to figure out what comes next. I glance at his lips.
“Yeah, you probably should,” I whisper, but I don’t mean it.
“I should,” he agrees, but he’s not making any move to leave.
The moment stretches between us, heavy with possibility. Then Sawyer clears his throat and pulls back slightly.
“Thank you for helping me tonight. I actually feel more prepared.”
“Anytime.”
At the front door, he turns to face me one more time. “Thank you, Alice. For the studying, the coffee… all of it.”
“Thank you for the chocolate. And for pumping my gas.”
“Drive safe tomorrow, okay? If you see anything suspicious—”
“I will,” I nod.
“Good night, Alicat.”
“Good night, Sawyer.”
I watch from my window as he drives away, and I'm still smiling. For the first time since moving to Pine Hollows, my empty house doesn't feel quite so empty.
As I get ready for bed, I keep replaying the almost moment on the couch. The way Sawyer looked at me, the tension between us, how we both pulled back at the same time.
Maybe slow is exactly what I need right now.
But that doesn’t stop me from wanting to kiss him.
