“I’ve been put on the day shift, seven to three, Monday thru Friday.”

“Oh, Cisco!” His mother clapped her hands together and effused. “I’m so happy for you. This has been a long time coming.”

“Not really,” Cisco countered, grabbing a huge handful of chips from the bag to put on his plate. “I only put in for the change a few weeks ago.”

“Right,” his father said. “But Frank knows you’ve wanted it for quite a while now. What made the old goat change his mind?”

Cisco knew that the “old goat” moniker was given with love. His family had been friends with the Ildavorgs since the first year they’d moved to town when Frank was a simple patrolman, and Pops a fledgling construction engineer.

Cisco quickly downed the first half of his initial sandwich, then used his finger to scoop up a blob of egg salad that had escaped, sucking it into his mouth. “Mmm,” he said appreciatively before answering his father. “There’s a camp out on Lake Pushaw that contacted him about an officer who might be available to teach self-defense to their campers.”

Again, his mother looked so pleased. “And you fit the bill perfectly, so he changed your schedule.”

“Temporarily?” his father asked, making smaller inroads into his plate than Cisco’s plow-through mode of destruction.

“Nope,” Cisco responded, happily chewing again. “Permanently, even though the camp gig only lasts two-ish months.”

“That’s wonderful, Cisco. Congratulations,” his mother effused. “Should we go out some night this week and celebrate?”

“Uncle Frank has that covered,” Cisco told them after polishing off the second half of his initial sandwich. “He and Aunt Suze want us over for dinner on Thursday night. Are you free?” he asked, even knowing that the answer would be yes. His parents worked full time, and rarely left the house once they got home. Or should he say—regarding his mother—that she hit her easy chair after her every-other-night run.

“We’ll make sure we are,” his mother answered decisively. “I’ll call and see what time she’d like us and find out what I should bring.”

Cisco snagged sandwich number two, licking around the edges to prevent more spill-out. He wasn’t a pig, but there was no need to stand on ceremony at his folks’ table. “She’s quilting this weekend at some retreat, so don’t call until tomorrow night.”

His mother nodded and began eating, which is when Cisco began slowing down, pondering how to bring up the next subject he wanted to broach.

Dammit. This was harder than he thought, and not something he’d generally ask his parents, but they’d been in love for a long time, so…why not get advice from the experts?

Cisco took a deep breath.

“So… I met this woman.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

During the entire drive back to his house, Cisco thought about his mother’s not-so-sage-advice.

Just be yourself, honey, and the girl will come around. You’re a good person, and she’ll see that, eventually.

Cisco appreciated her certainty, but he doubted it would hold true. He’d already been as nice as he could be—on his best behavior, really—with Hilly, and she’d still regarded him as if he’d crawled out from under a rock.

His father’s words of encouragement were even more vague.

If it’s meant to be, it’s meant to be.

It’s meant to be? Cisco repeated in his head. What was it, and… Meant to be what? Wasn’t that the flipping question of the day.

Cisco knew he wasn’t looking for a fast tumble in the sheets with Hilly, but what did he want? Did he want to get to know her? Did he want to…date her? He knew he wasn’t angling for marriage; or at least he’d never thought about it before. His needs, lately, seemed simple. He was looking for a nice woman who wouldn’t treat him like his body was a slab of juicy meat. That was all well and fine, but Hilly, he believed, was too far into the vegan category where his physical self was concerned. He seriously doubted she’d agree to take a voluntary bite of anything he was offering.

It looked like his parents were spot on, though, even if he’d felt their platitudes were unhelpful. Time would certainly tell. Hilly would have to put up with his presence twice a week for the entire summer, and during that time, he’d be chipping away at her reticent, rock-solid and disinterested façade at every opportunity. He’d be so freaking helpful, she wouldn’t be able to resist him.

The plotting was easy.

He’d be extra eyes on her campers. He’d enthusiastically join in on any and all activities—even drama club—and he’d cheerfully take care of any disgusting chores around the property. If that wasn’t putting himself out there to make a good impression, he didn’t know what was.

Settled that there was at least some sort of plan in his head, Cisco pulled into his driveway and glanced appreciatively at his small, neat bungalow. Its style was arts and crafts reminiscent, and the olive green and cream façade soothed him every time he saw it. The six-room home was sparse, minimalist, but that’s the way Cisco liked it. His modest style was apparent at first glance. The porch held two cane rockers, and a welcome mat. That was it. No side tables to accumulate crap. No hanging plants to sprinkle dead leaves onto the painted wooden flooring. Just simple and sweet.

Jogging up the porch steps, Cisco couldn’t wait to get out of his uniform and into what he’d now call “weekend clothes”, since this was his new time off. It felt good to be like the majority of the population as he looked around and saw neighbors mowing lawns, kids playing basketball in their driveways, and parents walking babies in strollers. This is what he’d been missing. He’d been working and sleeping at all the wrong times for so freaking long that he’d been kept from normalcy.

Cisco was about to enter his house when his phone rang.

Welker.

He picked up his phone with a grin and gave his standard greeting. “Hey, asshole.”

“Prick,” Welker came back, automatically. “When were you going to tell me you’ve been switched to weekdays? Am I always the last to find out these life changing events?” he scolded. “Buddy, this is huge.”

“I know,” Cisco replied, letting himself into his cool, shadowed foyer, picking up the mail that had been sent through his front door slot. “Sorry you weren’t my first call,” he chuckled, “but I only found out yesterday. I had to sleep on it to make sure it was real. Then this morning I went on a ride and scoped out part of my new, special assignment.”

“Which is?”

Cisco made up his mind instantly to fill Welker in on his schedule, as well as his mental dilemma. “I’m going to be teaching a self-defense course Tuesdays and Thursdays at a camp out on Lake Pushaw.”

“Cushy,” Welker snorted. “Leave it to you to pull light duty.”

Right. Cushy.

Cisco sighed. “But there’s this camp director…” How did he describe Hilly?

“A real bear, huh?” Welk came back, clearly not waiting for clarification. “A ball buster? Worse?”

That was all debatable. In a way Hilly was busting his balls, or at least coloring them blue with the way she vacillated between pretending to tolerate him before flipping the script to send him shy, uncertain smiles that had him plotting how he could extract more.

“She’s actually pretty sweet, and a smoking hot redhead,” Cisco replied with a little bitterness in his tone that he couldn’t disguise. “But get this. She treated me like I was an unwelcome relative. Kind of in a lukewarm way; putting up with me, but only because she has to.”

Welker laughed. “Shit, man. You mean you’ve finally found a woman who rings your bell, but is resistant to your charms? That’s gotta hurt.”

Coming from Welker, that was raw. The man had nothing to worry about in the ladies’ department, and never lacked for eye-candy on his arm or in his bed. Even though Welk had a scar running the length of his face from his eyebrow to his chin, the imperfection simply gave him even more of an allure; his pick-ups gleaning a chance to offer—or at least pretend—compassion over his injury. Add to that mysterious knife-mark, Welk’s natural blond good looks, and he attracted women like locusts to corn.

“I didn’t try charm,” Cisco admitted. “At first when I rode up, I figured my Harley and the uniform would not only tell her I was the cop she’d hired, but they’d make her sit up and take notice. When that didn’t work, I spent the rest of my time sticking my foot in my mouth, then doing damage control over every fucked-up word that came out.”

“Sucks for you, buddy, but you know what you need?” Welker countered.

“I’m almost afraid to ask.” Cisco threw his keys in a bowl designated for such, bent down and unzipped his boots, toed them off and immediately put them into the hall closet.

Welk didn’t hesitate. “Positive reinforcement. A stroke to your male…ego,” he quipped. “Which is good for me, because with all the guys getting hitched, I’m jonesing for someone to go out and hit the bars with me. So, now that our schedules have aligned and I don’t have classed this evening, you, Cisco my man, are the perfect guy for my purposes. What are you doing tonight?”

Cisco wanted to groan. All he’d been planning on doing was hunkering down with a ballgame and a beer while feeling sorry for himself over Hilly’s tepid response to him; she being the first woman in a long time who’d even remotely stirred his imagination.