Curves for the Single Dad

At noon on the dot, parents and older siblings began to appear, ready to cart their future officers home or, in some cases, to another activity. As each little kid ran to their loved ones, I felt a pang of something unfamiliar. Something that grabbed hold of my heart and squeezes, left an uneasy churning in my stomach.

Longing.

I wanted a family. A cute little boy or girl with curious eyes and lots of questions. A smiling father to greet them and love them and teach them things. My ex had stolen that from me too when he packed up and left town with less than twenty-four hours notice, with no thought of inviting me along to share his new life. He didn’t steal it, you gave it to him. I could still hear Gretchen’s voice in my head, nudging me to move on with my life. To stop blaming him and just get on with achieving my goals.

She was right, of course. That didn’t mean I needed a matchmaker, dammit.

“Daddy is late. Again.” Lila’s voice brought me back to the present where it was just me and her left. How I’d managed to both daydream and interact with each adult before they left, was beyond me.

I looked down at the little girl who didn’t seem all that worried so much as resigned to her fate. “Should we give him a call in case he forgot?” I guess the life of a famous mystery writer was too important to worry about things like picking up your kid.

“No. Daddy never forgets, sometimes he just gets caught up in a story and loses track of time.” Those words sounded like ones he’d said to her on more than one occasion. “He just started a new story.”

“What does that mean?” I didn’t know Chris Jacobs well, hardly at all, in fact. He’d only been in town a year or so and he mostly kept to himself aside from his friendship with a few of the men in town.

Lila’s face lit up, her hazel eyes dancing with excitement. “It means he’s getting to know his characters and their lives. Like moving to a new place.”

“Have you moved a lot?” I didn’t want to interrogate the girl, but asking questions kind of came along with the job.

Lila shrugged. “No. I dunno, what’s a lot?”

“I don’t know, I grew up here.” I was a small town girl and I planned to keep I that way, probably why my ex up and moved with no notice. He knew I wouldn’t leave Pilgrim, and apparently, I wasn’t enough of a reason for him to stay.

“Can you show me how to tackle a suspect?”

A laugh exploded out of me and I tried to cover it with a cough, but Lila was too smart for that. “You mean taking down a suspect? You’re too young for that training session.”

She pouted and it was adorable. “I’m too young for everything. Please?” When she started to bounce on her toes, hands clasped together, I knew when I was beat.

“Fine. But if I catch you doing this to anyone, or even if I hear about it, you’ll be in big trouble. Got it?”

“Yes!” She did a little victory dance that made me smile before she schooled her expression and grew serious. “Okay, I’m ready.”

Hazel eyes took in every detail as I slowly went through the procedure, including the pat down and cuffing. “You want to make sure the suspect has no weapons or other contraband that could place you or your fellow officers in danger.”

“Okay. Now me.” She did exactly as I said and that’s how her father found us. Twenty-two minutes late.

“Excuse me, little girl.”

Lila gasped and looked up, but to her credit, she didn’t break her hold on my wrists since I refused to let an eight year old cuff me. “Yes?”

“What has this woman done to get arrested?” I’d seen Chris around town, at The Bread Box and The Mayflower, but up close like this, he was handsome. Tall with thick brown hair and hazel eyes hat matched Lila’s. His good looks went beyond classically handsome and firmly into obscenely good looking. Thick lips looked perfect for kissing and the day old stubble that lined his jaw gave him a sleepy sexy look that my body, apparently found irresistible. He was tall, well over six feet, and fit with biceps that tugged at the fabric of his t-shirt, and thighs that could barely be contained in well-worn jeans. “Well?”

Lila giggled. “I’m not arresting her Daddy. I’m practicing.”

“You did good,” I told Lila and she easily let me go and went to wrap her arms around her father. “Tara Beechum.”

He took my offered hand, brows pulled down into a scowl. “Chris Jacobs. Don’t you think eight is a bit young to know how to use handcuffs?”