ground.
Nancy pulled herself out of whatever spell she’d fallen under and reached down for the towel at the same time the officer reached down. They ended up bumping shoulders. Nancy started to fall sideways but was stopped when she felt strong warm hands grab her shoulders and help her stand upright.
Feeling her face flush (another hot flash, thank you!) she reached up to sweep the hair out of her face. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she breathed out.
“Not a problem. Are you all right?” He removed his hands from her shoulders and she suddenly wished he hadn’t. Then reality took over and she realized that she’d been staring at the Kevlar vest covering his chest. She shot her eyes back up to his and watched his gaze warm.
“Here, let me.” He bent over and picked up the kitchen towel, handing it to her.
“Thank you.” She managed a smile, but lost it as soon as she realized that this was a police officer at her door.
“The kids...” she started with a worried look.
“They’re fine. At least as far as I know.” He hooked the sunglasses onto his shirt pocket. “I’m Officer Saunders. Doug Saunders.”
Nancy just looked at him blankly. (Okay, and perhaps sort of dreamily too.)
“I was the officer who talked to you over the phone from the site of your daughter’s motorcycle accident last week.” He seemed to grow younger before her eyes.
“Oh! Yes, of course. Sorry about that. I didn’t recognize your voice. Although we only spoke for a few minutes. Actually it was just a
few seconds, not minutes. And it was over a cell phone. Thank you for helping them. How are you?” Shut up Nancy. You’re babbling.
“I’m fine. How are you doing?” His killer smile made him look like a kid.
“Oh, um. I’m fine. Thank you for asking. How are you?”
Grinning he replied. “I’m still fine.”
Nancy realized that she was acting like a complete idiot. Then it dawned on her that she was wearing her rattiest tee-shirt, cut-offs and tennies. Her “cleaning house” outfit. Yep, faded navy tee-shirt, tan
sagging cut-offs, and old white tennies which were filthy. Not to mention no make-up and her hair flying everywhere.
She was very aware of the difference between her unfashionable attire and the officer’s precisely creased uniform.
Then she chastised herself. This man wasn’t there to flirt with her. Did she really think that real life was like the movies? He probably wasn’t even there to see her. He needed to see Jackson and Christy. Yes, that must be it.
“They won’t be back for a while.” She managed to pull herself together.
“Who?” He genuinely looked puzzled.
“The kids. That’s who you’re here for, right?”
“No. I’m not. I need to give you some information and find out what you want to do about it.”
Okay. The conversation had now gone into left field and Nancy was clueless about what he was talking about.
“You’re looking for me?”
“You’re Mrs. Adams, right?”
“Mrs. Adams is my ex-mother-in-law. I’m Nancy.” Nancy winced and suddenly hated how the witticism she’d used ever since the divorce now sounded a little bitter. Wiping the towel across her forehead, she managed a small smile, “Sorry. An old joke, beyond its
Nancy pulled herself out of whatever spell she’d fallen under and reached down for the towel at the same time the officer reached down. They ended up bumping shoulders. Nancy started to fall sideways but was stopped when she felt strong warm hands grab her shoulders and help her stand upright.
Feeling her face flush (another hot flash, thank you!) she reached up to sweep the hair out of her face. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she breathed out.
“Not a problem. Are you all right?” He removed his hands from her shoulders and she suddenly wished he hadn’t. Then reality took over and she realized that she’d been staring at the Kevlar vest covering his chest. She shot her eyes back up to his and watched his gaze warm.
“Here, let me.” He bent over and picked up the kitchen towel, handing it to her.
“Thank you.” She managed a smile, but lost it as soon as she realized that this was a police officer at her door.
“The kids...” she started with a worried look.
“They’re fine. At least as far as I know.” He hooked the sunglasses onto his shirt pocket. “I’m Officer Saunders. Doug Saunders.”
Nancy just looked at him blankly. (Okay, and perhaps sort of dreamily too.)
“I was the officer who talked to you over the phone from the site of your daughter’s motorcycle accident last week.” He seemed to grow younger before her eyes.
“Oh! Yes, of course. Sorry about that. I didn’t recognize your voice. Although we only spoke for a few minutes. Actually it was just a
few seconds, not minutes. And it was over a cell phone. Thank you for helping them. How are you?” Shut up Nancy. You’re babbling.
“I’m fine. How are you doing?” His killer smile made him look like a kid.
“Oh, um. I’m fine. Thank you for asking. How are you?”
Grinning he replied. “I’m still fine.”
Nancy realized that she was acting like a complete idiot. Then it dawned on her that she was wearing her rattiest tee-shirt, cut-offs and tennies. Her “cleaning house” outfit. Yep, faded navy tee-shirt, tan
sagging cut-offs, and old white tennies which were filthy. Not to mention no make-up and her hair flying everywhere.
She was very aware of the difference between her unfashionable attire and the officer’s precisely creased uniform.
Then she chastised herself. This man wasn’t there to flirt with her. Did she really think that real life was like the movies? He probably wasn’t even there to see her. He needed to see Jackson and Christy. Yes, that must be it.
“They won’t be back for a while.” She managed to pull herself together.
“Who?” He genuinely looked puzzled.
“The kids. That’s who you’re here for, right?”
“No. I’m not. I need to give you some information and find out what you want to do about it.”
Okay. The conversation had now gone into left field and Nancy was clueless about what he was talking about.
“You’re looking for me?”
“You’re Mrs. Adams, right?”
“Mrs. Adams is my ex-mother-in-law. I’m Nancy.” Nancy winced and suddenly hated how the witticism she’d used ever since the divorce now sounded a little bitter. Wiping the towel across her forehead, she managed a small smile, “Sorry. An old joke, beyond its
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