Cuffed

Dinner

David called almost non-stop for days, and I still didn't answer. He continued to text me, too, but I refrained from having any contact with him. I really needed to look into changing my number.

As much as I wanted to continue my stay at the hotel, I had to go home. I couldn't afford to be holed up in a king suite for weeks on end, so I called my apartment complex and had them change the locks.

"And it serves the bastard right!" Lara said after I told her about the lock switching. "I'm still pissed you didn't tell me right away about him grabbing you, but I can get over that. What I can't get over is him putting his hands on you."

"It's not like he punched me in the face, Lara. But still, it was a line we drew toward the beginning of the relationship and he crossed it. I could've let the cursing go, but not the physicality."

Truth be told, this was not the only time David had been physical with me when things didn't go his way. He apologized for weeks until I caved and took him back, but I said if he ever got physical with me again, we were done for good.

"I get it, Kennie. I do," she said, wrapping her arm around my shoulder. "Do you think he's been back since? To your apartment, I mean."

"Yeah. I heard the lock jiggling the other night like he was trying to get in."

"Do you think you need to move? You know you're more than welcome to crash with me."

"I think he'll give up after a while."

"Well, if you need anything, I'm here for you. Just let me know," she gave me a hug before walking in the direction of her class.

I walked with fervor toward the art studio. I knew I would find my release there amongst the canvas and smell of oil paints.

I donned my smock and pulled an empty canvas from my stockpile. Music flooded my ears and paraded around my head as color swallowed the white canvas. This painting had no plan or motive other than to be a somewhat cheap form of therapy.

Somewhere in my three-hour therapy session, I felt the sting of tears in my eyes, but they weren't tears for David or my botched relationship...they were from the pain my mother inflicted the night of the fight. The burn of betrayal from my mother was like rubbing alcohol seeping into a paper cut. How could I ever forgive her? Would I ever forgive her? Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew she meant well, but our combined past haunted us in ways we still attempted to decipher.

I wiped my tears and placed my brush on my easel. I turned around only to run into a hard body.

"Ouch! Come on!"

I removed my ear buds and looked into a pair of green eyes. I breathed in deeply, and let out a sigh that sounded like one of relief. My muscles loosened as a smile lit Holden's face. "Has anyone ever told you that you paint angrily?"

"How did you know where I was?"

"Do we always have to play '21 Questions' when we see each other?"

"Did you not just ask me another question?"

He rubbed his chin. "Touché. Now, back to you painting angrily."

"I just felt it today, okay?" I said, moving around him. "I see you chose to wear your uniform today. Not doing any P.I. stuff today, Magnum?"

"Har, har."

"Really. Why are you here?"

"I came to take you to dinner."

"At 3PM? Is there a senior citizen special somewhere tonight?"

"You are just so full of venom today. I can't say I don't like it. I've always loved a woman with sass. So, dinner at my place tonight, yeah?"

"Holden," saying his name still sent shivers up my spine, "I can't go out with you."

"Why?" he lifted my left hand and ran his thumb along the line where my engagement ring used to sit. "You're obviously single."

"Nothing has been decided yet, actually."

"So on an off day you just take off that fancy ring?"

"I'm not really trying to talk about that right now."

"Good. Me either. I came to talk about you coming to my place for dinner."

I sighed as I hung the stained smock over my easel. "Things are complicated right now, Holden. I don't want you to be involved in that."

"Any other excuses? Look Kennedy," he took my hand as we walked out of the studio, "I'm not taking no for an answer. Really. Please, just come to dinner. I'm not leaving until you say yes."

I sighed. "I can see that," I said, watching as sets of eyes darted to and from where Holden and I interacted. "Fine. I'll come to dinner, but only because you're embarrassing me in front of my peers." I huffed in frustration. "Do you even cook? Or are you going to be one of those guys that orders take out and puts it in fancy bowls?"

"Oh, honey, I cook."

"And you're cocky. I hope you burn everything so we have to eat out."

"The only thing I've ever burned in the kitchen is my finger. Now, let's go. We have to go to the store."

"We're going grocery shopping, too?" I rolled my eyes.

"I'll pick you up at your place in an hour," he said, releasing my hand.

"And what if I have other classes today?"

"You don't. See you in an hour," he called over his shoulder as he walked away.

He was on time.

I swung the door open and was rewarded with a lazy grin. I ushered him inside, trying not to gawk at his worldly appearance. He wore his cop uniform well, but the way his civilian clothes hugged his muscles set my body ablaze. Black was a color he wore well.

"How'd you know where I live?"

"I'm a cop."

"All right then, Cop. Let's go," I grabbed my satchel off the couch and bid Bentley farewell.

We ambled about the store, engaging in small talk—which I enjoyed. He regaled me with the details from his day; he gave a few speeding tickets, chased some truant minors out of the mall, and followed some case leads. Holden seemed genuinely interested in my day, as he always had. He asked questions about my students and how classes were fairing; all the while, I was eyeing the ingredients he threw into the cart in my attempt to guess what he planned to prepare. When we arrived to his house, I still hadn't come up with a recipe that could involve what he had purchased.

"Come on! You have to give me some sort of hint," I whined as I leaned over the counter to look into the pots and pans bubbling on the stove.

"I sure don't. I'm the chef here. Just sit back and relax."

It wasn't a hard command to follow. Everything in Holden's house screamed comfort—the poufy, gray couch; the matching recliner...even the color scheme relaxed me. The pale blue, gray, and cream brought me back to the time I went out east to the ocean—with David. The ocean was beautiful; my company was not. My time apart from David aided me in seeing the truth in that statement, among other things.

Being separated from David was like taking a step back from a masterpiece at an art gallery to look at the entire picture. When looking at certain details, it's easy to miss the overall message—David and I were not compatible. We were not made for each other, and our marriage would have been miserable.

I fought for David during the last two years of our relationship when things went south, but I should have heeded the warning signs. I should have listened to Lara. I should have believed more in myself.

"What's going on in that head of yours?" Holden asked, setting a plate in front of me.

"Nothing much."

"You lie like a child that's already been caught with their hand caught in the cookie jar."

I laughed. "An interesting analogy."

"An interesting evasive tactic."

"I don't see it as fair that you know so much about me, but I know very little about you."

He smirked. "All right, fine. We'll play your game. What do you want to know?"

"A last name would be nice, for starters."

"Dillingham."

"Holden Dillingham, Bloomington PD. How official. How did you get into the force?"

"I always wanted to be a cop. I like helping the good citizens of Bloomington, Illinois. Fighting crime is my thing. Protect and serve."

"Do you joke all the time? It's like you have a permanent smirk on your face."

"I do joke a lot. It runs in the family, actually. I can be serious when the time calls for it, but I doubt we have to break out the frowns right now. Unless you're going to disappear into your thoughts again."

"Hopefully not."

"Were you thinking about him?"

I sighed. "Was it that obvious?"

"The frown you wore was the same as every other time you talked about the Ring Giver. I'm glad you took that ring off if he made you that unhappy."

"It was more than just a removal of jewelry." I picked up my fork and took a bite of the food Holden prepared. It made my mouth water. "God! Who knew meatballs could be this good? What all did you put in this?"

"It's a secret," he grinned.

"One that you'll take to the grave?"

"Only people in my family know it, so yes. It'll be tucked into the breast pocket of my death suit."

"I could tug it out, you know."

"You'd fondle a dead guy just to nab a recipe? Have you no shame?" he made a face of mock horror.

"It wouldn't be fondling. I would be quick. In and out."

"I somehow doubt that," he said, a familiar glint in his eyes. It was the same look he gave when we discussed his handcuffs; and it still made my blood boil and my stomach clench.

We finished dinner and continued to poke at each other. Holden took our plates to the sink, rinsed them, and turned to face me. "Dessert?"

"Are you going to whip something else up, Chef Boyardee?"

He laughed. "Do you have a nickname for everything I do? Magnum, Sherlock, and now this?" He brought a cheesecake out of the refrigerator and set it on the table.

"You made this?"

"Last night. The flavor is better when you let it sit."

"And you somehow knew strawberry is my favorite flavor? Is that one of your cop duties, too?"

"No. I'm just observant. You had a strawberry smoothie at the gym the other day. Your hair has a faint strawberry scent. Your cheeks turn the color of strawberries when you're embarrassed. And now you're wondering if the Ring Giver was ever that observant. My guess is, no; otherwise, you'd be with him and not me."

"You're cocky, you know that?"

"Oh, you have no idea chick," he said, flipping a knife around in an elaborate fashion.

"Show off."

"Impressed?"

"Maybe."

He smiled lazily and cut the cheesecake. I waited for him to stop looking at me before I took a bite. Every morsel that hit my tongue brought me a step closer to heaven.

"Good?"

I nodded.

"I can tell," he said, wiping a stray crumb from my face. The act sent shivers down my spine. I looked up and our eyes locked, causing heat to flood my body. His lips barely parted, but I managed to make out what he said: "God, I want you in my bed."

I gasped. Sure, I was shocked that a confession of such proportions had come from the lips of one of Bloomington's finest; but I gasped more out of the effect his words had on me. If I wasn't wet before, my underwear became drenched. I squirmed on the barstool, the apex of my thighs aching.

"Arousal's never felt so good, has it?" he said before taking my lips between his. The kiss was far from chaste. He devoured me, and I let him. His hands wove themselves into my hair as he leaned me against the counter. His hands released my hair and trailed from my neck to my hip and down to my calf. With a tug, he hitched my legs around his waist. "Arms," he instructed. I complied and he carried me to the couch.

"Holden."

Our eyes met, my winter sky to his sage. "Kennedy."

The way my name flowed from his lips had me tugging on his shirt, bringing him closer to me. I was unsure how long our tongues and lips danced and collided; it felt like forever, but also like a brief second. The temperature rose in the room, so I broke the kiss and pulled my sweater over my head. I was leaning toward my prize again when Holden stopped me.

"Did he do this to you?"

It took me a moment to piece together what he was saying due to the cloud of arousal swarming through my brain. "Do what?"

Holden lifted me onto his lap in one fluid motion and stroked my left arm. "This. This bruise on your arm."

Cop sight. "Off the record?"

"If that's what it takes to get you to talk."

"Then, yes."

Holden closed his eyes, his jaw held tight.

"That's why I took the ring off."

"You should have done more than that, Kennedy."

"I was kinda in shock. My fiancé had just cursed at me and then grabbed me—in a public place, mind you. My focus was on getting out of there."

"You should have pressed charges. Look at this thing!"

"It honestly looked worse a couple days ago." Which was true. Even as a painter, I had never seen such shades of blue and purple before the bruise showed up on my arm. The contusion had started to yellow and not look so angry now, but it did little to settle Holden.

"Yeah, I'm sure it did."

"Look. Can we just not talk about it? What's done is done."

"Is it done, Kennedy? Because you weren't so sure earlier. Please tell me you're sure now." When I didn't answer he called my name more sternly. "Kennedy. You shouldn't be with someone willing to do this to you."

"There's just so much going on right now. I have my classes, the studio, my students. I can't even think straight sometimes. I don't want to have to deal with this, too."

"I'm gonna need you to think straight on this one."

I climbed off Holden's lap and grabbed my sweater from the floor. The date was over, and I knew it. I pulled the sweater over my head before answering. "Why is it so important to you? Because you want to make sure I'm single for real before you drag me off to your bed like a caveman?"

Holden laughed without humor. "Really, Kennedy? Is that what you think? Of all the nonsense—no. That's not why. I need you to be done with him because he has anger issues he needs to work out. I couldn't tell you the number of cases I've had that involve domestic violence, and many of them are repeat offenders. I don't want that for you."

"You don't even know me. How could you want anything for me?"

Holden sighed deeply and stood up. He towered over me, but he wasn't imposing. I'm sure he could be both daunting and threatening when the time called for it; but, as he looked down at me, his facial features grew softer. "I know enough about you to care, Kennedy. Come on, I'll take you home."

I didn't argue because I didn't want to stay any longer. He handed me my satchel and we left the house. The ride to my place was filled with a silence I wasn't use to. The type of quiet I expected was heavy with tension and anger, but instead it was filled with worry and concern.

Everything within me wanted to tell Holden I was prepared to end it with David, but that was not yet true. I wanted to end it with David; I knew I should end it with him, but I couldn't. I wanted to utter the words at Steak 'n' Shake the other night when everything went downhill, but they wouldn't leave my mouth.

I told Holden "goodnight" and thanked him for dinner before throwing myself into bed. Tears ran down my face and onto my pillow.