Captured Again (15 page)

“That’s because her character is a rock,” Emma said through a laugh. “Really. She’s a rock! A talking
rock
.”

“Then who or what are you? The way you were constantly in action, you’d think they were using more than your voice.”

“My character’s very animated—excited and breathless—so if I stood still, like the rock, my voice would sound... lifeless. I have to
feel
what my character is feeling, so that’s why I’m usually flittering around like that, trying to capture the same voice the script describes,” she explained. “I can’t talk breathlessly if I’m not breathless. I know it’s strange. I’m one of the few voices that dance around, panting and gasping, in the studio, but it works for me.” She finished, shrugging her shoulders.

Dusty leaned toward Emma with his elbows on the table. He stared at her—through her—as though he were looking into her soul. “No, Emma. It’s not strange. It’s amazing. And it’s not just the character. It’s you. Watching you work—hearing your laugh—watching you move like you do... you breathe fire into that character. You’ve got a flame so bright it hurts my eyes,” Dusty whispered.

Emma wiggled uncomfortably.
Is he serious? This sounds like a cheesy pick-up line,
she thought. She wasn’t used to compliments, except from Rick—he was constantly laying it on thick, but Emma had caught on early that he only wanted one thing from her, so his compliments usually fell on deaf ears as far as she was concerned. She couldn’t tell if Dusty was speaking from his heart or from his pants—like Rick.

“Maybe so. If you’re right, then you better be careful. You don’t want to get burnt,” Emma teased him, trying to brush off his compliment in case it was just empty praise.

Dusty looked down and shook his head, his lips pressed firmly together.

“You think I’m putting you on... I’m not, Emma. And I know we barely know each other, but I’ll take my chances on getting burnt. You’re worth the risk,” Dusty said in barely more than a whisper.

Emma truly blushed now; she was so embarrassed. Apparently, Dusty was sincere. All this before the entrée—whoa. She needed to put the brakes on this fast.

“Look, Dusty, thanks. I mean that... but I thought you agreed we were going out as friends? We don’t even have our food yet and you’re getting all serious on me. I don’t do serious. I don’t even date—at least I haven’t in a long while. We barely know each other,” Emma said, trying to sound kind but firm.

Dusty reached across the table and put his hand on hers.

“That’s what we’re here for, Emma. Go ahead. Get to know me. I already feel like I know you. From your little song and dance the night I arrested you to your plucky performance with the meth-head in jail to your tantrum with your dead battery, and then today—
today, oh man
—at the studio, you gave quite a show. There’s never a dull moment with you.” He paused and looked up, blowing out a breath as though what he was saying was hard for him. “Girl, I’ve seen you in action, with the mic on and off. I like everything I see. You’re a little firecracker and I am not afraid of fire.”

He took his hand back and looked around the restaurant, checking to see if anyone heard his speech. Emma noticed the tips of his ears were red.
Why is he saying this stuff to me if he’s embarrassed?
she thought.
Damn, no one is holding a gun to his head.
She couldn’t figure him out. He was definitely a hot cop; he shouldn’t have any problems getting women. He was smart, tall, and well-spoken.
What the—

“Wow. Dusty. I don’t know what to say... Way to put a girl on the spot,” she said and followed it with a laugh—a nervous laugh. Maybe he really was into her. Maybe this was the guy she’d been waiting for... but no, he didn’t see the whole package. He didn’t know she used to be
that
girl. He was too good for her. He just didn’t know it.

“So, yeah... how ‘bout those Bears?” she asked, raising one eyebrow and trying to be obvious about needing to change the subject.

Dusty laughed. “Okay, I hear ya. Here comes the waitress anyway. Let’s eat.”

Emma and Dusty both dug into their food. The tension slipped away bite by bite and neither seemed to notice the gap in conversation. The mood had shifted. Emma wiped her mouth and said, “Are you from around here, Dusty?”

“Close. I’m actually from Tennessee. My family moved here when I was fifteen.”

“Then you can appreciate some southern cop humor?” she teased.

“Sure. Fire away,” Dusty said and laughed.

Emma giggled at his quick humor. “Mine is funnier... So Bubba and Clem found
three
hand grenades and they decided that they better take them to the police station. ‘What if one of them explodes before we get there?’ asks Clem. ‘Don't worry about it,’ says Bubba. ‘We'll just lie and tell them we only found
two
.’” She finished, laughing at her own joke.

Dusty nearly spit his tea into his plate, laughing with her.

Emma was glad to see he could take a joke. She’d hoped he wouldn’t be offended. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t resist.”

“Yeah, I know the feeling,” Dusty whispered.

Emma wiped her mouth again and folded her napkin, placing it beside her plate. She noticed his plate was still half full and he was still holding his fork. “I can’t eat anymore, Dusty. But you finish yours. I’m in no hurry tonight.”

“I’m done, too. But why do you say tonight? Are you in a hurry most nights?”

Emma bit her lower lip, looking everywhere but at Dusty.

“I’m just very busy. I don’t go out a lot. Actually, almost never.”

“Emma, be serious. You probably got guys asking you out all the time.”

She shrugged. “I get asked. But I rarely go. I prefer to spend any extra time I have with my family. With school and work, there’s not even enough left over for them.”

“Well, if you aren’t in a hurry tonight, want to take a drive before I take you back to your car? I know a great spot we can talk.”

“Is that cop-talk for park and make out?” Emma asked seriously.

He frowned at her. “No. It’s not. I’d just like to talk more... and you said you’re not in a hurry,” he explained, still looking ill at ease. “Emma, you can trust me. Really.”

“Okay. But not for long. We’ve both got class tomorrow morning.”

The waitress brought their bill and Dusty refused to let Emma pay her half. He quickly stuck his credit card on the tray and handed it back to her.

“Thanks for that. But you didn’t have to. We agreed we’d each pay our own,” Emma scolded him as her attention was caught by a young girl with a toddler balanced on her hip. The girl was led to a table that already had a highchair in place. She was struggling to juggle her purse, a diaper bag, and a kicking, screaming little boy who was not happy to be carried. Emma felt sorry for her. It appeared she was alone and just wanted a good meal out.

“Well, I guess I lied. And you’re welcome,” he answered loudly, as he looked around for the cause of the distraction. He and Emma watched the girl.

The girl wrestled the little boy into a highchair, getting a few slaps in the process. The boy kept screaming,
“Walk! Walk! Walk!”
Emma and Dusty heard his mother’s loud whisper, trying to calm him down. “Stop yelling and I’ll let you walk when we leave! Don’t you want to get some fried ice cream?” Then she tiredly flopped down in the chair beside him, pulling a container of Cheerios out of the bag and spilling a few on the table in front of him. He furiously swiped them onto the floor. The girl bent over, picking them up one by one, then sat up and blew out a huge breath, her cheeks puffing up as she did.

“Poor girl. She doesn’t look any older than you, Emma. Looks like she’s alone. I don’t see a ring on her finger,” Dusty said and shook his head sadly. “It’s a shame... such a pretty girl. She could probably find her a man if she didn’t have all that baggage.”

Emma unexpectedly snatched her purse and stood up. “I’ll meet you outside,” she said over the loud screaming still coming from the boy. She stepped over to the young girl’s table.

Emma squatted down, getting face to face with the young child. “Hi. Guess who I just saw here?”

The little boy stopped his screaming and crying and looked at Emma in surprise. Emma leaned over and whispered in his ear, then stood up and twirled around, aware of the little boy’s big eyes watching her. “Now remember, if you’re good for your mommy while she eats her dinner, maybe the next time you watch, she’ll say hello to you on the TV.”

The little boy smiled up at Emma, calm at last. His mother flashed Emma an appreciative smile and put some more Cheerios in front of him. Emma patted her shoulder and walked out the door, waiting just outside for Dusty, happy to have used her voice to give the young woman some peace.

Dusty
flashed his badge at the night guard in the security post and drove on through. He took them straight down to the boat landing, shining his headlights across the water. He put the car in drive and rolled down both of their windows. He turned down the radio, preferring instead to hear the sounds of the lake and the songs of the bullfrogs.

“It’s a nice night out tonight. You mind the fresh air?” he asked.

“No. It’s fine,” Emma answered. There was a long pause. “So is this where you bring all your dates?” she asked, smirking.

Dusty cringed. He’d debated about bringing her here for that exact reason. He’d worried she’d think that, but he really needed somewhere quiet and serene to talk. He’d been putting off this conversation long enough. “No. Never. This is on my patrol. I come through here every day. But it’s the only place in town with a view. And even better, there’s no one here at night,” he answered honestly.

Emma settled in, pulling her legs up into the seat and turning sideways to face Dusty.

“So how’d you get a name like Dusty?” Emma asked.

“My mom. According to her, she fell in love with my father’s eyes before she fell in love with him. After they married, she hoped her kids would get the gray eyes—hers were brown.”

“And you did,” Emma said. “But is that why she named you Dusty? How did she know you’d end up with them? Gray is a very unusual eye color.”

“It is unusual here, in the United States. But my great-grandfather on my father’s side was Russian. It’s not so uncommon there. My mom gives him no credit though. According to Greek mythology, it was said the Greek Goddess Athena had sea-gray eyes. So my mom prayed to Athena, asking her to give her boys their father’s gray eyes, and she named each of us as an offering to Athena, to show her how much she really wanted gray-eyed babies.”

“So you have a brother? Older or younger?”

“Older. He came first, so he got the good name.
Grayson
. I got stuck with Dusty.”

Emma laughed. “I love the name. Really, I do. I think it fits you much better than Grayson would. I’d probably like your mom. I love Greek Mythology. Do you think Athena had anything to do with it in the end, or do you give all the credit to your genes?”

Dusty shrugged. “I don’t know. I used to think it was a bunch of bull. Then I got to reading about Athena, the gray-eyed goddess, and I found she’s actually the Goddess of law and justice, among other things. I found this out after I’d chosen Criminal Justice as my major, and after I’d become a cop. So maybe I was touched by the hand of Athena. Who knows?”

Enough small talk. He had to tell her. If she found out later, she’d think he’d kept it a secret on purpose.

Dusty took a deep breath and let it out slowly, rolling his neck before beginning. “Emma, don’t you remember me?” he asked.

“Remember you? From where?”

“I knew you once, a long time ago. You lived with a friend of mine... Daniel.”

The conversation came to a stop and the air seemed electric with tension. Dusty waited for her to answer. The moment stretched on and he realized she was too embarrassed—and maybe a little surprised.

“You were just a kid. Both of you were... living in that trailer, partying all the time. I’m not surprised you don’t remember me. I was there several times with a buddy of mine but always late, after the bars had closed. We could usually count on Daniel to have booze, so we hung out there sometimes. I didn’t know that was you when I pulled you over—not until I looked in your car window and you turned those eyes on me. It’s been years and you’ve changed a lot, but even then you were beautiful.”

“
Then
—I was drunk, Dusty,” Emma exclaimed. “Why didn’t you tell me this before? Like when I was confessing my drinking issues to you at the restaurant?”

Although it was dark, the moon was shining just enough to see a tear slowly roll down Emma’s cheek.
Oh shit,
Dusty thought.
I made her cry. Damn.

“Um, I don’t know. I guess I figured it’d come up sooner or later. I didn’t realize you wouldn’t remember me at all. I thought maybe you were just not mentioning it because you were—”

“Embarrassed? Yes, I am embarrassed, Dusty. That was a bad time for me. You have no idea. I self-medicated with alcohol. I had a problem. I don’t remember anyone who hung out there, unless they got there before dark. After dark, I was hiding from my demons in the bottle.”