Chapter Two

Later that week, after trying to find someone to sit with April so she could go out with Kurt and failing miserably, she finally had to call him and admit to as much, leaving a message for him at the cell phone number on his card.

"Hey, Kurt, this is Ava. I'm sorry to have to do this, but I'm going to have to cancel our date because I can't find anyone who can sit with April. I'm really sorry, but I'm at my wit's end. I guess it serves me right for being as antisocial as I am—I don't know a lot of people to call, and I'm not comfortable with having her stay with someone who's a complete stranger to me. Anyway, I just wanted to call you as soon as I knew that it wasn't going to work out. Again, I'm sorry it's worked out this way."

It wasn't necessarily the most elegant of endings to a phone call, but it got her off the phone. She spent all day on the phone and hated using it at any other time if she could manage not to. But a situation like this required a phone call as far as she was concerned, so she did it. She hoped she didn't sound like she was rambling too badly, but it was already done and that was that.

She nearly threw the phone across the room when it rang while it was still in her hand; she was so startled by it.

She recognized the number as his, took the call and put him on speakerphone.

"Ava? It's Kurt."

"Hi, Kurt."

They both spoke at the same time then stopped in the middle of their sentences.

"I'm sorry to have to—"

"Listen, I think I might—"

His chuckle was warm and wormed its way into her mind before heading to more interesting parts of her body.

"Ladies first," came his low command.

"Well, I pretty much said it all in my message. I'm sorry to have to cancel on you."

"I'm not sure you'll have to."

"Oh?"

"The receptionist you talked to when you came to see Zapata and ended up seeing me instead has volunteered to watch April for you if you're comfortable with what I'm thinking. I've known Sheila Westbrook for years. She has two little girls of her own, and she's always loved kids. She used to…" He trailed off there and didn't say anything else until he cleared his throat and continued. "Anyway, if you'd be comfortable with her doing that, she'll do it for free. In fact, I think—if it meant that I was finally dating again—she'd pay you."

"I would certainly pay her for her time." Ava was biting her lip. This was exactly the kind of situation where she wasn't really sure what she should do. She'd barely met this man, and now he wanted her to leave her child—a child she was responsible for, her best friend's baby girl—with a woman she knew even less about.

He could sense that she was really hesitating about taking him up on it. "I could get you a lot of references from cops who have taken advantage of Sheila's services in the past. And cops don't trust anyone very easily, so you know she's gotta be a saint."

"Well—"

"I promise you that everything'll be fine, and Sheila already has all of the equipment, too."

Kurt had never had to spend so much time talking a woman into going out on a date with him, even when he was a teenager.

On a hunch, he said, "Say 'yes', Ava," in a firm tone.

"Yes, Ava."

"Smartass."

"Better than a dumbass."

"So, do we have a date?"

"You're very persistent, Lieutenant Gilmore."

His response was delivered in a low growl that sent a shiver down her spine. "When I see what I want, I go after it."

His boldness was rewarded by the gasp he heard from the other end.

He didn't wait for her to say yes. "I'll give you directions to Sheila's house and pick you up there."

It would have made more sense for him to come to her place, and they both go to Sheila's, but the way he was speaking to her had scrambled the language—and intelligence—centers of her brain, and all she could do was say, "All right."

"Excellent." It wasn't the resounding response he'd hoped for, but as long as she agreed, he was good. To Ava, though, he sounded entirely too self-satisfied. "I'll text you her address, and you can Google Maps it. Seven o'clock at Sheila's, Ava. Don't be late."

"I'm never late for anything," she huffed indignantly.

"Good. Neither am I. Lateness is a real pet peeve of mine. I'll see you then. Bye."

Her "bye" was rather absent, but she was too involved in wondering just what it was that she'd gotten herself into by agreeing to go out with him.

He was a cop. Cops tended to be anal-retentive type A, who liked control.

Just exactly what she liked, Ava admitted to herself. Or what she used to like, anyway.

Cops could also be bullying, sadistic assholes—just like a large percentage of the male population as a whole. Only the rest of the population didn't necessarily wear a gun to work and didn't have powers of arrest, either.

She'd always had a thing for cops, at least in her rich fantasy life. And it wasn't the uniform at all—it was the likely dominant personality that attracted her.

Ava had never allowed the part of her that craved that type of man to have free rein, and she didn't intend to now, either. He was different from any other man she'd ever dated, who—except for that last one—leaned much more towards the pushover category than she thought he ever would.

Come to think of it, what was she doing—going out with someone like that again, after what had happened in the past? She should be going for the mild-mannered milquetoast type, like she used to.

Ava sighed, hoping she wasn't falling into a pattern of choosing men who weren't good for her.

But there was something about Lieutenant Gilmore that she couldn't resist.

***

She arrived at Sheila's house fifteen minutes early, as usual. It was a big, rambling Victorian, with an enormous wraparound porch and small, unusually shaped stained glass windows here and there. The big door opened before she had a chance to knock, and it was Sheila herself who answered it.

"Hi, Ava, I'm Sheila Westbrook." They shook hands. "Come on in." She stood aside to let Ava and April into the house ahead of her.

The place was as gorgeous on the inside as it was from the outside—all homey warm woods, softly painted walls, with lots of architectural character and tons of pictures of what had to be her family.

"This is my husband, Jack."

Jack was at least Kurt's size, but seemed more teddy bearish than the lieutenant did, to her.

He shook her hand gently, saying conspiratorially, "The only thing you have to worry about in regard to that beautiful baby is that my wife is going to spoil her so badly, you're not going to want to take her back."

Ava had to smile at that, as Sheila offered her arms to April, who practically dove into them. She was obviously sensing that this new person knew much better how to take care of her than the idiot she'd been staying with for the past week or so.

Since Sheila was totally enraptured by the baby, Jack continued. "We have all of the necessary equipment. Sheila works for the police department, and I am a retired cop, so she couldn't get much safer."

Two little girls stormed down the beautiful mahogany staircase. "Fall in, you hellions," their father commanded, but with a twinkle in his eye. They dutifully came to stand in front of him, giggling and poking at each other the entire time. He put his huge hand atop the taller girl's head first. "This is Emery, and this is Allison. Say hello to Ms. LaValley."

"Hello, Ms. LaValley," they chorused in unison.

"Hello, girls. It's nice to meet you."

"Why don't you two go get ready for bed?" Jack suggested in a tone that let them know it wasn't a request.

"But we want to play with the baby!" Emery whined, doing that whole-body fidget thing kids indulged in without thinking.

Their father wasn't having any of it. His hands were on their backs, gently guiding them back towards the staircase. "There'll be plenty of time for that once you're in your pjs. Now scoot." They climbed the stairs, however reluctantly. "And don't forget to brush your teeth," he shouted after them.

Their "yes, Daddys" were less than enthusiastic.

"Would you like me to take that bag from you?" he offered.

"Yes, please. It's got her favorite toy, Simba, and her formula, and other stuff."

The older man's smile was surprisingly soothing. "That's good. Not that we need it, but Sheila has your information, I assume?"

"She does."

They heard a car horn honk a couple of times, and Sheila reappeared with April practically asleep in her arms already.

"That's Kurt."

Ava's eyebrows rose. "Really? He won't come in?"

She didn't miss Sheila and Jack exchanging looks.

"No, he won't. You'll have to go out to him."

Ava kissed April on her warm, sweet smelling head. "Be good, April."

"She'll be fine. I'll text you with updates if you like."

Ava felt unnaturally relieved to hear that. "Yes, please. I would like that."

Jack held the door open for her. "You two have a great time, and don't worry about a thing."

"I'll try to come pick her up before eleven."

Sheila was practically pushing her out the door with her free hand. "Don't worry about it. We're both night owls on the weekend. Take your time."

She took a few steps onto the porch then turned. "Thank you very much for doing this."

"You're very welcome," Sheila reassured.

Kurt waved at Jack and Sheila from his position at the passenger's side door of his enormous car that he opened and then closed for her before sliding behind the steering wheel.

"Everything all set?"

Surprising herself with how comfortable she felt leaving April with the Westbrooks, Ava answered, "Yes, it is."

"Great." He pulled away from their house, asking, "So, what would you like to do tonight?"

Ava shrugged. "I'm open."

"Well, I did have something in mind, if you'd like to put yourself in my hands for the evening."

"All right."

As if to illustrate what he'd said, he put his hand out to her, palm up, looking at the road and not her as he did so.

Ava looked at it suspiciously for a moment, hoping he wouldn't get pissed if she didn't put her hand in his. But she was about to find out whether or not he would.

"Thank you for coming out with me tonight."

"Thank you for asking me," she responded primly.

"You look beautiful."

She could feel her cheeks growing hotter. "Thank you. You look very handsome in that suit."

"Thank you." He laughed. "Well, we have a mutual admiration society going for us."

"So? What are we doing?"

He took his eyes off the road for only a second to catch hers. "I have an idea. Do you want to know, or would you rather be surprised?"

"Surprised."

Kurt smiled at that. "Good. I do like to surprise people every once in a while."

With that, he continued to watch the road, but he kept his platter sized hand down on the console between them, palm up, in a very deliberate—if silent—invitation to Ava, wondering if she would accept it. It didn't matter to him whether she did or not. He was just trying to get a feel for how she was likely to approach this relationship.

She didn't think he intended that little gesture to make her tense and uptight, but it did a little. She didn't know him at all; this wasn't a situation where they'd been friends for a while and then began dating. He hadn't even been on the fringes of her social circle, and she had learned, in her last relationship, to be much more cautious about men than she ever had been before.

And he was a really big man, which was a physical characteristic that she was extremely attracted to, but she'd had real trouble last time from a guy who was her size. She really didn't want to think about it, but she'd be in much more trouble if the same problem cropped up with him.

Still, every time he could get his hand free, he put it back there in that position, but she didn't think she sensed that there was any kind of demand or expectation from him about it. He kept a steady stream of chat going that was nice and casual, asking "getting to know you" questions about her and actually listening to her responses and asking thoughtful follow ups, which earned him a lot of points as far as she was concerned.

Too many men only wanted to talk about themselves, which made conversing quite lopsided.

But not the lieutenant. He was much easier to talk to than he had been in his office, and she bet that was a big help in his line of work. There was no sign at all of the grumpy Mr. Sunshine she'd seen in him when she'd first met him. He had her talking about her job, her family and her favorite teacher in grade school, drawing her out with little effort on his part, it seemed.

Then she realized that he hadn't told her much about himself, and she wondered if his interest in her was more of a calculated tactic so that he didn't have to share about himself.

"So, what about you? How'd you end up being a cop? Was it because you liked bossing people around?" She was teasing, but it didn't come out right when she said it, and she put her hand over her mouth. "Oh, dear. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it to sound insulting at all."

He smiled. "Not a problem. Actually, I wanted to help people. I wanted to be an EMT originally, but it turns out that I'm not cut out for that."

"Afraid of the sight of blood?" she teased.

"Not that." He took a minute to answer her, which she liked, also. He wasn't afraid to allow a little silence between them in order to give her a thoughtful answer. "I graduated at the top of my EMT training class, and even did a few shifts. But I found myself really frustrated by my lack of control—by the fact that, sometimes you get there, and you can't do anything at all to help, and it's just a horrible situation." He cleared his throat and continued. "I transferred to the PD, and it was just a much better fit for my personality. Whether real or illusory, I feel as if I have more control over the outcome."

"Well, you're wearing a gun, so, yeah."

He gave her a side glance. "I've only had to draw my gun four times in my career, and I've been doing this since I was twenty-two, right out of college."

"Wow. That's amazing."

"Of course, full disclosure, I hold the state record for making detective the quickest of any other patrol officer, and a detective is much less likely to need to draw his weapon."

"That's amazing, too!"

He actually blushed, although it wasn't easy to see beneath his tan, but it was definitely there, and that charmed her, for some reason. He also withdrew his hand, which inspired a sense of loss in her that she didn't understand and couldn't really shake off.

"I got lucky."

She looked at him skeptically. "I doubt that."

"Well, maybe there was a little skill involved," he allowed with a sheepish smile.

They ended up taking the tram up to Sandia Peak. Ava tried to pay for her own ticket and received a considerable scowl for her efforts, which had her putting her money away, if with great reluctance.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome," he intoned seriously but with a slight grin.

But it was a gorgeous trip. There was only one other couple on the tram with them, and they were able to sit comfortably on the bench seats and watch the breathtaking scenery unfold before them. Ava took tons of pictures on her phone, and Kurt insisted on taking a picture of her with the peak rising behind her and went so far as to ask the other couple if they would take a picture of them together, which they did.

Ava had wondered if he was going to use that as an opportunity to touch her, but while he stood close to her—exuding warmth and filling her mind with that wonderful smelling cologne he was wearing, to say nothing of the fact that for some unknown reason, she felt protected by his size rather than threatened by it—his hands remained at his sides.

More points in his favor, as far as she was concerned.

When they got to the top of the mountain, they walked around a bit, but the shoes Ava was wearing weren't really conducive to climbing. And that was the first time he touched her—aside from the times he'd shaken her hand when they first met. He was right next to her while they were walking, and she could tell that he was trying to guide her to the smoother spots, but she teetered at one point, and he grabbed her hand to steady her.

"All right?" he asked.

There were fences around, and she wasn't much likely to tumble down the mountain, but it was nice to hear him sounding concerned.

"I'm fine, thanks." He let go of her hand immediately. "Next time I'll be sure to wear sneakers!"

Kurt smiled down at her. "I like the idea that you're already thinking about a next time." He looked at his watch. "We have reservations at the restaurant at eight, so why don't we head in?"

"Great!"

He let her precede him, and soon they were sitting at a table with an incredible view, and he asked, "Have you been here before?"

"No. I've never been up in the tram before, either. It's one of those cases of never doing the touristy things in your home area. Like a New Yorker never visiting the Empire State Building or whatever."

He nodded. "I understand."

"And, even if I'd taken the tram up, I'd never have had the money to go to this place." And she was wondering whether she had the money to go here now! This restaurant was like any in an unusual or sought-after location—they made their patrons pay through the nose. She supposed she should be happy that at least it wasn't one of those awful places where there aren't any prices listed on the menu at all.

Ava immediately began to look for the cheapest dish she could fine, which was likely a salad of some sort. That was okay. It was kind of a forced "date eating" situation, but she had a ton of food at home she could fill up on later.

But then Kurt announced, in a tone that made her head snap up and look at him. "You don't have to worry about the cost this time, Ava."

"But you already paid for the tickets."

His voice became even firmer and softer. "And I will pay for dinner, too. So, get whatever you really want and not just an appetizer or a salad."

How had he known that that was what she was going to do?

***

She blushed, and her high color made her even more attractive to him than she already was, and that was saying something. His jeans had been uncomfortable since the moment he'd seen her this evening, and the situation was only getting worse by the minute.

"But you shouldn't have to pay for everything!"

Kurt put his menu down and gave her his full attention. "I think this is as good a time as any to confess that I'm a bit old fashioned about relationships."

Her eyebrows went up, and she got a bit of a wary look that he really hadn't wanted to inspire, but he also intended to be perfectly straight with her. "Oh?"

"Yes. I was brought up by my grandparents, and their ideas were a bit anachronistic."

"What does that mean?"

She looked puzzled, and he smiled. "I'm very glad you asked. It means behind the times."

"Old fashioned, like you said."

"Exactly. My grandfather was a stickler for manners, especially when it came to how a man should treat a woman."

"Ah."

He was a bit worried about that response, too. "But the fact that I'm insisting on paying for everything doesn't mean to imply any obligation on your part whatsoever."

"Oh."

She sounded doubtful, but she'd realize at the end of the evening that he was speaking the truth.

"Okay, then I guess it's a good time for me to tell you that I'm not old fashioned, necessarily, but I've learned to be very cautious when it comes to men and intimacy, and I'm not going to sleep with you tonight, or any other night—no matter what you voluntarily pay for—until I'm damned good and ready."

He paused for a long moment, looking at his water. And his somewhat delayed reaction was one she never expected. He leaned forward in his seat, eyes narrowed. "Did someone hurt you?"

They had, but she wasn't going to go into it with him. Ava adjusted the position of her silverware to avoid looking at him as she spoke. "I think most women who find themselves in their mid-thirties have been hurt multiple times by multiple men, to varying degrees."

Kurt leaned back. "Well, allow me to apologize for my sex, but I'm not one of those kinds of men. Maybe I was more of one when I was younger, but I hope not. I haven't dated a lot of women, and I'm on reasonably good terms with all of my exes."

"That's good to know. I guess I'm a bit anachronistic, too, because I have to feel something for the person I'm involved with, or it's never going to happen, and the times I've allowed my… parts to guide my actions, I've thoroughly regretted it."

"I'm sorry to hear that," he said, and she thought he sounded absolutely genuine when he did. "And you can take as long as you would like in that arena. Frankly, I'm right there with you. I'm very rusty at dating, and I'm glad to know the pressure of intimacy is off the table for a while."

That absolutely stunned Ava, but the waitress appeared to take their drink orders and she forgot to be quite so surprised.

Ava requested a Diet Coke with lemon.

He ordered a beer. "Do you not drink?"

She sighed. "Oh, I drink, all right. I decided a few nights ago that I just can't convince myself that I can continue to do that when I'm the only one April has, you know? I'm responsible for her. If not me, then foster care, and I would just hate for that to happen. And I have no idea what I'm doing, anyway, trying to be a mother to her, and I can't imagine having any kind of success at it if I'm drunk."

"That's very admirable. I agree with you, but I don't know many people—men or women—who would do that."

Ava shrugged. "I'm okay with it. I've certainly had my share of alcohol, and I'll miss it, I'm sure, especially when she hits the teen years, but what I want isn't as important as what she needs. When she's eighteen, and off to college, I'll go get blasted."

Kurt smiled. "I used to dread—" He clammed up completely before finishing that sentence, face tragically shuttered as he looked terribly uncomfortable, but then the waitress came back with their drinks and took their order.

He looked pointedly at her, as if in warning, saying, "Ladies first."

"I'll have the chicken, please."

He ordered the ribeye, medium rare.

When the waitress left, she meant to ask him to finish his sentence, but he got her talking about her work, and she kept him laughing with tales of some of the funnier aspects of her job. People who called in and wanted to know how they could be overdrawn when they still had checks, or, generally older folks, who were trying, unsuccessfully, to get onto the bank's site, but who had no idea what a browser, window, or app was, much less how to double click.

"One time I was talking to an older gentleman, and I told him to double click on the button to sign into his accounts online, and I swear to you that I heard him double click one of those dog training clickers! I was like, 'Nooo!' Then there's the guy who likes to call in and sing show tunes to a captive audience."

She did love it when he laughed. It was unselfconscious, low, and hearty, and it made her chest ache in a good way. "Really?"

"Yeah. He's not half bad, actually. But he eats up your call time."

"They keep track of that?"

"They keep track of everything! How much time you spend on calls, on breaks, on lunch, how many calls you take, how many supervisor calls, how long you leave the customer on hold. It's awful—very regimented."

"But you like it?" he asked, sounding as tentative as she felt about it herself.

Ava sighed as she took a bite of her excellent dinner. "That's too strong a word. I can do it—and, modesty aside, I do it really well. I've been there long enough to have seniority when it comes to choosing a schedule and vacation times. And the next time one of my supervisors leaves, I'll probably apply for the job and have a reasonable expectation of getting it, too, along with a hefty raise that might result in me actually earning a living wage. And that, at least, would get me off the phones the majority of the time."

The rest of the meal was relaxing and very companionable. Ava felt pretty comfortable with him, which was saying something, considering how long it had been for her. She'd been wary of men for so long now that she'd thought it was second nature to her, but he was the proof against that. She kept having to consciously remind herself to keep her guard up around him, and she wasn't sure whether or not that was a good thing.

They remained at the table for quite some time, having dessert and coffee and chatting in a leisurely and highly compatible manner, and when they decided to leave, she asked, "Would you like me to leave the tip, at least?"

He didn't have to say anything—he just gave her a look that more than sufficed as his answer. She often suggested that at dinner, because she'd noticed that some men didn't tip at all or didn't tip very well. They'd taken up the waitress' time and had stayed there long enough that they had eaten into her next potential tip, and—having been a struggling waitress through school herself—she wanted to make sure that she was well compensated for her efforts.

But she was glad to see that Kurt went entirely in the other direction.

As they headed for the tram, he commented, "I was a waiter. I always tip well."

She laughed and confessed her concerns.

"I had thought as much. People who don't tip should be consigned to a month of working as wait staff in a low-end restaurant during the tourist season dinner rush."

"Yeah, at a family style restaurant with lots of screaming kids, harried parents, and finicky old people complaining about the early bird specials."

He chuckled. "Definitely."

They arrived at Sheila's house at about eleven-thirty, which Ava thought was a reasonable hour. If April woke, she'd be able to get her back to sleep in plenty of time to get some sleep herself, hopefully.

Kurt walked her to the front porch, looking around a little once they'd gotten there, and joking, "Suddenly I'm fifteen again, bringing home my date to find that her parents are waiting up for her."

Ava laughed but took a quick breath in when he stood disconcertingly closer to her.

"I had a very nice time tonight. I hope you did, too."

"Yes, definitely," she replied, forcing herself to look up at him.

"I'm glad. Care to try it again? Is your schedule the same every week?"

"No. I was doing overtime Friday. I work seven to three-thirty, Monday through Friday, normally, and I can get overtime anytime."

"How about Saturday, during the afternoon? We could drive up to Santa Fe. There's an artists' and farmers' market there that's pretty nice, then we could catch dinner somewhere in town?"

"Sounds great! I just need to find someone to take care of April."

It looked to her as if he was trying to resist the tendency for his face to cloud over at the merest hint of the baby, and he won—sort of. "Sheila will do it; I'd be willing to bet."

"Yes, but it's not right to always rely on her. What if she's doing something with her family?"

He settled the question by taking out his phone and calling her. "Hi, Sheila. Yes, I'm calling you from your porch. Would you be willing to babysit this Saturday, during the day?"

"Thank you. Ava will be in in a minute." He put his phone back in his pocket. "Problem solved. I'll pick you up around two, then?"

"Yes, definitely!"

The moment of the evening that she'd dreaded the most finally arrived, but it couldn't have been more anticlimactic when he leaned down and placed a chaste kiss on her cheek before straightening to say, "Night, Ava. Drive home carefully."

"I will."

He was in his car and roaring away in a matter of seconds.

Again, it surprised her that he didn't come in to see his friends, but it didn't raise any alarm bells with her. Maybe he was tired and wanted to get home, or they were on the outs, or whatever.

Or maybe he was allergic to babies.

She shoved that fanciful idea to the back of her mind, instead heading in to retrieve April and leaving without being able to pay Sheila anything for her time. Jack wouldn't take her money, either. They both just threw up their hands and shook their heads at her when she tried to give them cash, so all she could do was thank them profusely.

"Anytime at all, honey," Sheila whispered, in consideration of the sleeping baby. "She's a little doll. We loved having her."

"Yeah," Jack agreed. "Hopefully this'll be enough of a baby fix, and we won't end up having to have another of our own."

His wife smacked him loudly at that—making the big man "oof"—as Ava made her way out the door.

Later that night, she snuggled under the covers, having managed to get April all the way home without waking her—hallelujah—and into bed, too. She replayed the entire evening in her head. She was pretty comfortable with him, overall, and liked him, so far. But she reminded herself that she would have said the same thing—she did say the same thing—about Jeff, too.

The one thing that stuck in her head was his strange attitude towards April, but she wasn't at all sure how she could find out more about that.

The question resolved itself, though, when she got a call from Sheila Westbrook the next day, who asked her if she'd like to go for drinks after work that Wednesday.

April sucked a bit of air in through her teeth. "I wish I could, but April's daycare closes at six."

"Well, would you like to bring her over here?"

Not that she didn't want to become friends with Sheila, but Ava was wondering what this was about.

"Actually, why don't you come over to my place? That would save me having to cart all of April's things to your house?" It would be completely embarrassing to have Sheila see her dingy apartment, but she could spend the next couple nights cleaning it after work, which would render it somewhat presentable—sort of. And she was willing to endure that humiliation rather than having to get everything necessary to bring April to her. Even though she had everything she needed already, Ava liked April to have her own things around her.

"Great!"

"If you want to come over around six or so, I'll even feed you dinner."

"Sold!"

"Is there anything you won't or can't eat?"

"Hell no!" she snorted. "You're cooking for me? You can feed me twigs and berries for all I care—as long as I don't have to prepare it."