Taking Connor

I know exactly why I’m sad.

I’m sad because Co

My toe injury caused me to forget to take my ibuprofen last night and just as I knew it would. My head is pounding and so is my toe. It is only when my kidneys feel like they’re about to burst that I force myself out of bed and fumble to the bathroom. The events of last night tumble through my head and I subconsciously kick myself. How could I let that happen? Obviously, I’ve developed an unhealthy attraction to Co

My stomach grumbles as I walk into my kitchen, rubbing my eyes as the sunlight beams through the kitchen window, when I hear, “Good morning.”

I nearly jump out of my skin when I look up to find a thin man covered, head to toe, in tattoos sitting at my kitchen table, sipping a cup of coffee. His dark hair is longer in the front, than in the back and he has a well-trimmed goatee. Noting what I know must be the fear of God in my eyes at the sight of him, he places his cup down carefully and stands quickly, the chair screeching loudly as it slides back, holding his hands in the air. But the sudden movement only makes me panic more.

“Co

“My name is Dusty. I’m a friend of Co

“Stay where you are,” I yell. My head is pounding, and I still hadn’t quite managed to rub the sleep from my eyes this morning, but if he gets near me, I will whip this knife around wildly until I hit something. Hopefully an artery or something that will make him bleed out fast. “Co

When I hear the screen door creak open, I almost collapse in relief. Co

“She just freaked out. I tried to tell her we’re friends, but she wouldn’t listen,” the man explains defensively.

I look at Co

“Demi, babe,” Co

I’m so amped up on adrenaline I can’t seem to make my arm move. Co

“I’m sorry I scared you. It’s nice to finally meet you,” he offers.

I back away from Co

“No need. I reckon if I were you, and I’d walked in to find . . . well . . . me sitting at my kitchen table, I’d about have a heart attack myself.”

“Why don’t you sit down, Demi. I’ll make you some coffee.” Co

“So, Dusty,” I begin awkwardly. I feel bad for almost chopping him into bait and hoping I’d hit an artery so he’d die quicker. “Where are you from?”

He takes his seat beside me and sips his coffee before answering. “I was born in Texas, but I hail from Te

“And how do you and Co

“Did I get it right?” Co

“Yeah, you did.” He made my coffee just the way I like it. He’s never made it before, and I’ve never mentioned how I like it, which means he must have watched me make it several times. I stare up at him and despite my feelings of regret from the events that transpired between us the night before, I want so badly to stand up and kiss him. Then I remember myself.

Wasn’t Roxy here last night, too? Didn’t I see her?

“Thank you,” I say, my voice husky. “So how do you two know one another?” I turn my attention back to Dusty, hoping it’s not too obvious to Co

Dusty gives Co

“Ohhhh.”

“I got out three years before Co

“How so?” I ask.

“It’s not important,” Co

My brows rise at Co

“I’m sorry?”

“You want to know why I was in, right?”

Damn, I do. I really do. Am I sitting across from a murderer or a rapist? Who is this man that Co

“I wasn’t going to ask,” I respond before taking a large sip from my mug.

Dusty chuckles, a look that oddly, despite his tattoos and shaggy hair, is quite handsome and endearing. “She’s every bit a lady, just like you said, Co

My brows rise again for the hundredth time this morning. Co

Co

“Well, seeing as I’m sitting in your kitchen, drinking your coffee, I feel like you should know. And, seeing as how Co

His proclamation surprises me. Is it ridiculous to think him volunteering the details of his conviction is gentlemanly? “Dusty,” I say, as I lean over the table and pat his hand where it sits. His head rears slightly as if he’s surprised by the gesture. “You don’t have to share if you don’t want to. I trust Co

I stand and push in my chair. Co

“I know I must look awful,” I huff. “Do I have time to wash my face and dress before breakfast is ready?”

“Ten minutes,” Co

“Be right back.”

As I exit the kitchen, I can’t help smiling to myself when I hear Dusty say, “One hundred percent lady.”