By Hook or By Crook (35 page)
When pleasure broke across her face, it was like the dawn coming after a long night, and he joined her in release, humbled to be able to share it with her.
He held her for a long time afterwards, in a silence that was both tender and full of contentment. After awhile, he remembered the prosecco and got up to pour them each a glass. He figured she would like a toast on their wedding night, and French champagne wasn’t in his budget. They’d moved to a small apartment in Redding a few days ago. When he’d asked, she’d admitted the new apartment would fit in the living room of her Gold Coast loft in Chicago, but she hadn’t seemed to mind.
Daisy and Pock had relocated too, eager to get away from the whole MMA scene. Pock knew his career in MMA fighting would never happen, but he took it surprisingly well. A gift for working with horses, totally unexpected, eased his disappointment, and he was helping out at Erin and Anthony’s ranch while they tried to get back on their feet and care for the new baby.
Flush with new fatherhood and wanting to provide a better life for his new family, Anthony had decided to expand the ranch and take on more boarders. When he asked Pock to stay on permanently to help, Pock had agreed. Between Pock’s ranch salary and Daisy’s new waitressing job, they made ends meet.
Joe took a cautious sip of the bubbly and frowned. “What do you think?” he asked her. “Is it okay? I know it’s not what you’re used to.”
“Stop it,” she said, lifting a finger to his lips in a silencing gesture. “Stop apologizing for being who you are. I knew you weren’t wealthy when I married you, remember?”
He nipped her fingertip gently with his teeth. “Are you going to be this bossy the whole time?”
She rested her head against his shoulder and let her eyes drift shut. “Only if you keep saying stupid things about how you’re not worthy of me.”
“I’m not worthy of you, but it’s got nothing to do with money,” he countered, sliding his hands down to her lower back where they met in a loose embrace.
“Don’t be silly,” she said, punctuating her words with kisses. “What does a perpetual student who can’t finish her dissertation have to be proud of?”
“This may come as a shock to you, but I didn’t marry you for your dissertation,” he said, this time letting his lips linger for a long time on hers. “Although I am
fascinated
by the role of women in the work of Alvin Dürer.”
“
Albrecht
Dürer,” she said.
“Whatever.”
Laughing, she smacked him, which turned into a round of tickling that let his hands wander where they might. At last, giggling, she pulled away.
“I need to breathe!” she gasped, and he relented.
He had something he wanted to tell her. As usual, he didn’t know the best way, so he blurted it out. “I’m thinking of going back on the force.”
“What? The police force?”
“Yep,” he said, enjoying the stunned look on her face.
“I thought you hated it!” she protested.
“I loved the work itself. My problem was with CPD, especially after I got blackballed. California has a lot of PDs. I’m guessing I could get on with one of them, maybe even a tactical unit. I’ve applied to a few. I’ve got an interview next week.”
It felt brave and optimistic to even say the words aloud, to admit that he still carried that dream inside him. Ivy had given him that courage, no doubt about it. The pride and happiness on her face filled him up.
But after a moment, her eyes clouded. “Do you think they’ll hire you, after what happened with the CPD? I mean, would the CPD give you a reference?”
He pulled her close, resting his chin atop her head. “Maybe. I wasn’t fired. I resigned. A few cops felt bad about the way it went down. They might put in a word for me. Besides, a small-town California department might be happy to get someone with experience. I’ve already talked to the chief over in Redding and told him my history. He didn’t say no outright, anyway, and he scheduled me for an interview. It’s a start.”
“I think it’s wonderful,” she said.
A long, lingering kiss halted the conversation for several moments until she pulled away, a troubled look on her face.
When he asked her about it, she shrugged. “Do you think I would make a good teacher?” she asked, biting her lower lip.
“Yes,” he said promptly. “I think you can do anything.”
She smiled, but the clouded look lingered in her eyes. “I’ve always thought I was too backward and introverted to be a good teacher, but your sister won’t leave me alone about it.”
Joe stroked a pale strand of hair back from her face. “She’s pretty smart. She might be right, but it’s your decision to make. There are lots of universities in California where you could teach art history if you wanted to.” He sat down on the mattress edge next to her. “Whatever decision you make, I’ll support you.”
“Really?”
“Really. Anything you want to do is okay by me. You can do anything you want.”
“What if I decide to take up ranching, like Pock?” she teased. “Maybe I can bust broncos for a living or something. Come to think of it, maybe I can be an MMA fighter. There might be a spot open on the circuit, now that Pock is officially retired.”
She slipped her arms around him, pushing him backward with a laugh, the pensive clouds gone from her eyes. She looked happy, confident, and free. He wanted to keep that look on her face for the rest of her life. As he pulled her down on top of him for an intoxicating kiss, he thought he might be able to do that. Without screwing it up.
“I know one thing. If you did, I would bet on you every time.”
A word about the author...
Linda Morris is a multi-published author of historical and contemporary romance. She writes stories full of heat, heart, and laughter. Her life has never been the same since her mom bought her a Kathleen Woodiwiss novel at a garage sale when Linda was thirteen. Linda lives in central Indiana with her husband and son. http://lindamorrisbooks.com/
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