His calming voice as he’d told her to breathe.
His callused thumb as it had stroked her cheek.
Gah.
Strangely, she didn’t care that he knew she was claustrophobic. No one else but Maggie knew about that. Even her mother didn’t know. It wasn’t that she was trying to hide it. Her mother obviously knew about the day one of her stepdads had locked her inside the toy box where she’d been hiding. She’d just never shared the long-term consequences.
But then, she and her mother had never had that kind of relationship.
They had a light, fluffy relationship. One where whenever deeper topics were brought up—like, maybe Olivia should slow it down on the dating—her mother changed the subject. To something easy, like her new rug or the new show she couldn’t stop watching.
A lot of the time she resented her mother for that. But she’d also gotten used to it.
Her phone dinged with a text.
Joel: Morning, Sunshine. Coming to the town meeting tonight?
Her heart gave a little kick. He’d messaged yesterday, and the day before too, and her heart had done the exact same thing.
Polly: Maybe.
Joel: Want me to save you a seat?
She couldn’t help it—she smiled.
Crap, the milk was going cold. She finished the coffee and took it over to Eli Cox, where she set it down. “Here you go, Deputy.”
“When I’m not in uniform, Eli is fine, Polly.”
Out of everyone at the station, Eli was the only person who seemed to actually care and do his job. He was in his mid-fifties, and at times even seemed to be able to sway Ward to look into things a bit more thoroughly. Of course, there were limits.
She set her hands on her hips. “Have you got the day off?”
“I do. And I plan to do as little as possible.”
“Sounds like my kind of day. Let me know if I can get you anything else.”
She headed over to clear a table by the flowers. Two women sat not too far away, beside the window. Even though they spoke quietly, Polly easily heard their conversation.
“I bumped into one of them at the grocery store yesterday. He touched my arm to steady me, and I swear I would have let him impregnate me there and then.”
Oh brother. She rolled her eyes.
“Which one?” the blond asked, sounding far too excited.
“He said his name was Joel.”
Polly paused.
The blond gasped. “I read about him.”
She’dreadabout Joel? What did that even mean?
“What did you read?”
“That he’s a playboy. And when I say playboy, I mean he comes from money—alotof it. His dad’s the CEO of Dawson Energy Services in Houston, a company that drills land for oil and makes shitloads of money.”
“That doesn’t make him a playboy,” the brunette said.
