Clifford Morgan rattled the jail cell bars, huffing while waiting for a cop to show up and let him out.

“I ain’t done nothin’, Rick. You know I ain’t done nothin’ wrong! Let me outta here, dammit! I get a phone call, don’t I?”

Rick Mullins strolled down the aisle, stopping outside Clifford’s cell. He had known Clifford his entire life—they graduated in the same class. He knew Clifford had nothing to do with the current predicament happening behind the Foot Loose. However, when he got a call from the FBI telling him to hold the bar owner for questioning because some city folk ended up dead behind his bar in Boone County, West Virginia, his hands were tied.

“Can’t do it, Clifford. Got word from above I gotta keep you here ‘til some Fed gets here to question you—some Eddie person. Want a beer? That ain’t gonna hurt—they’ll take a few hours to get here.”

“I’d rather have whiskey,” Clifford said, his eyes meeting Rick’s through the bars. “Will you call Andy and Allie for me? Someone’s gotta close up the bar.”

Rick waved at his friend. “Already done, Clifford. Let me get you a cold one.”

Emma Louis looked at her computer screen, the words blurring together as a yawn erupted from her lips. Glancing at the clock on the lower right of her computer screen, her eyes widened as she realized it was 23:30, and she still didn’t have the report done for the money laundering ring they’d just busted.

Captain Harker would be so pissed if she didn’t get it in the morning.

The phone on her desk rang, and Emma sat up with a start, trying not to think about the string of drool that had descended from her mouth to the top of her desk as she woke up. One hand reached out to grab the phone, the other rubbing her eyes as she tried to wake herself up.

This wasn’t the first time she had fallen asleep at her desk at work, and she was optimistic it wouldn’t be the last. Since graduating from Quantico two years ago, she had put in more hours at the field office in Pittsburgh than she cared to think about.

The phone receiver came to her ear, and she tried to sound as if she had been awake the whole night. “Agent Louis, Pittsburgh Field Office,” Emma said, relieved to hear her voice sounded professional and sharp, as opposed to overworked, underpaid, and half-asleep.

“Louis, got a fresh case for you. Get ready to go; I’ll have the files to you within an hour,” the voice of her boss, Gillian Harker, was as professional as always.

“Yes, ma’am, I’ll be ready.”

“Good,” Harker said, hanging up the phone noisily in her ear.

Emma sighed, wondering where they were sending her off this time.

Clifford was used to sleeping in less-than-stellar conditions. He’d slept propped up against his buddies behind a Humvee in Iraq, in the bed of Andy’s truck, and those shitty racks he had to sleep on in the Army would always stick in his mind as being the most uncomfortable torture devices made. But this little metal rack in the Boone County jail had to take the cake.

First, the rack makers had to believe that the only people sleeping on them were about five feet nothing. Second, they also probably thought that those five-foot-nothing folks were built like a stick, not like the brick shithouse that Clifford Morgan was.

He turned from side to side, finally sitting up and leaning back against the wall, closing his eyes and trying to keep himself calm. He hadn’t done a thing wrong, and he knew that as soon as this Fed questioned him, he could go home and sleep in a proper bed.

He tried to remember if anything strange had happened that night, but he came up with nothing. Sure, he remembered the city folk that had come in for a drink—everyone had been talking about him since he checked into the motel the night before; the black BMW with the New York license plate drawing a lot of attention in the sleepy Southern town.

People here had nothing better to do than gossip—and the city slicker had been the source of all sorts.

No, when he had come into the bar, Clifford had greeted him like he did every other patron – with a hello and asking him what he wanted to drink. As he recalled, the man sat at the end of the bar, sipping on his Jack and Coke quietly, looking around occasionally.

And the next thing Clifford knew, people were screaming, and the city slicker was dead as a doornail in the back of the bar, a lot that they used for bonfires and barbeques—not murder. That sort of thing didn’t happen in Boone County.

So much for the Morgan curse being lifted, Clifford thought, trying to get comfortable.

By the time Agent Louis pulled her Prius into the Boone County jail parking lot, it was pushing seven a.m., and she was tired. She had driven the five hours straight through, and finding any decent fast-food joint open at five a.m. had proven futile, so Emma had eaten a bag of chips and gas station nachos for dinner and breakfast.

If her work hours didn’t kill her, the food she had to consume while working cases surely would.

Blinking wearily in the early morning light, Emma retrieved the file she had been given on the case from her passenger seat before getting out, looking around to see what kind of dump she was in. She had never been a small-town girl, but instead, she chose to live in the hustle and bustle of the city, where she could live her life reasonably benignly.

This was not a city, and she felt out of her element.

Pressing the button on her key fob to lock her car doors, Agent Louis headed inside to question the bar owner.

“Clifford!”

Brandon Preston’s voice drifted to his ears, and Clifford opened his eyes, trying to focus as he looked toward the cell door.

“Huh?” Clifford’s response was quick and to the point.

“FBI got here ‘bout twenty minutes ago. It’s a cute little lady; she could question me any day...” Brandon’s voice trailed off as his eyes widened in horror as someone appeared in the hallway beside him.

“Maybe I will – but I doubt you’d get off from it like you’re hoping,” said a small, pretty woman beside Brandon. “How about you do your job and bring Mr. Morgan into the interview room like I requested instead of telling him how cute you think I am?” Emma glared at the man before glancing briefly at Clifford, spinning on her heels and heading back down the hallway.

Clifford swiped a hand over his eyes, looking at Brandon and muttering, “Could you bring me some coffee at least? Y’all know I’m never up this early, ‘specially not when I gotta close the bar up.”

“Yeah, I’ll bring it in; come on, Clifford. Don’t wanna keep that feisty little lady waitin’; she seems like she’s the shoot you first, ask questions later, type to me, you know?” Brandon unlocked the cell door, not bothering to cuff Clifford before pointing down the hall. “You been in there before, go on in, and I’ll bring some coffee.”

Clifford was bone weary, having only slept about an hour or so in the last day. He just wanted to get this questioning over, so he could go home and fall into bed for a few hours before he had to open the bar back up.

As he reached the interview room, he opened the door and stepped through, his frame towering over the slender woman sitting on one side of a table, looking over sheets of paper in a manila envelope. Looking up to find Clifford standing there, her eyebrow cocked.

“Wow, they sure treat prisoners differently down here, don’t they?” Emma mumbled, looking up at the hunk in the room. “Sit, Mr. Morgan.” Emma pointed to the small plastic chair on the opposite side of the table.

The door behind Clifford opened, and he half-turned, looking at Brandon as he entered the room with two cups of coffee. “Here you are, Clifford, and I brought one for the lady, too.” Brandon handed a cup to Clifford and set the other cup down in front of Emma.

“I’ll be outside if you need me; Clifford won’t give you any trouble, though. He’s a good guy.” Brandon turned and left the room, closing the door behind him.

Clifford did his best to fold himself onto the small plastic chair, the metal legs groaning under his weight as he looked up at Emma, taking a swallow of coffee as he waited for her to start.

“So, Mr. Morgan,” Emma began, looking down at the paper before her, “you are the Foot Loose Bar and Grill owner, correct?” She looked up at the man before her.

“You already knew that, ma’am, since I’ve been sittin’ in that cell all night,” Clifford replied.

Emma sighed, glancing at her paper again. “And you purchased the bar three years ago?” She looked up at Clifford, pushing the cup of coffee on the table further away from her.

“Seems like your papers are tellin’ you what you need to know about me, ma’am. Supposin’ I can go then?” Clifford smirked, taking another sip of coffee. He wasn’t one for flirting or being overly approachable–that was more Andy’s style. Still, he noticed how pretty she was as she looked down at the papers before her.

Emma replied, “No, Mr. Morgan, you can’t go. I have a few more questions I’d like to ask you.”

“Good thing they teach you FBI folks to read, then.”

“Let’s see, Mr. Morgan….” Emma ignored the man’s jib and continued, “You did two tours in Iraq, losing an arm to a roadside bomb. You've had your share of time in the joint - one in juvie and one about four years back - for slamming your car into a store?” She looked up at Clifford, trying not to smirk as she saw what had happened in the report.

“My foot slipped. Nothin’ I could do to stop it,” Clifford shrugged. “You gonna drink that, ma’am?”

“No, go ahead. It smells like paint thinner,” Emma remarked, watching as Clifford grabbed the cup and gulped down half of it before a slow grin spread over his face.

“Tastes like it, too,” he remarked, shoving a piece of stray hair off his forehead.

“So, Mr. Morgan, do you know this man?” Emma shoved a picture, overseeing his face as he moved it towards him with long fingers.

“No, ma’am. I seen him before, in the bar. But I don’t know him.”

Emma couldn’t detect any hint of deception coming from Clifford. “His name is Andy ‘The Jackal’ Franco. Ever heard of that name?”

Clifford shook his head before shoving the picture back across the table to Emma. “No, ma’am. We don’t get many city folk out here in Boone County. Ain’t much here to keep ‘em occupied and all. All I can tell is that he drove a BMW, ordered a Jack and Coke, sat at the end of the bar, and lookin’ around occasionally. Nothin’ really out of the ordinary, except he’s city folk.”

“Mr. Morgan, do you have any security cameras that might have caught anything?”

“Nope, sorry. Ain’t no need for ‘em. We get the occasional scrap goin’ on, but we usually break it up pretty quick.”

“When’s the last time you saw Mr. Franco last night?” Emma asked.

“I’d say about one or so? I went to the cooler to stock some, came back out, and he was gone. Went about my business ‘til about two or so, when I was fixin’ to close ‘er down. That’s when the screamin’ started, and the cops showed up.”

Emma watched Clifford for a long moment before saying, “Alright, Mr. Morgan. You’re free to go.” Emma slid a card across the table. “If you think of anything else, feel free to call me. I’ll be in town a few days, interviewing others at the bar last night.”

“Hell of a way to give a man your number, but I’ll be sure to call you if I think of somethin’,” Clifford said, sliding the card into his shirt pocket. “If you need to look around, just make sure you lock up afterward. Don’t want the coons gettin’ inside; they’ll make a mess of things. Also, if you decide to come in for a drink, it’s on the house. I’m there every night.” Clifford stood, turning towards the door, and as he gripped the handle, he half-turned, looking over his shoulder. “Watch out for the good ole boys. They’re all gonna hit on you. Just ignore ‘em; we don’t get many good-lookin’ gals like you through here.” Clifford turned the knob, stepped into the hallway, and exited the lobby. “Brandon, gimme a ride to the bar. My truck’s there.”

“Sure, Clifford. Let’s go!”

Emma blushed at Clifford as he exited.

She would ignore all the men hitting on her – unless Clifford Morgan decided to. She might consider allowing him to hit on her because he was good-looking and polite, and Emma knew she shouldn’t think that—it wasn’t professional.

Moments later, she began looking through the case file again. She would get to the bottom of this case—no matter how long she had to stay in Backwoods, West Virginia, to do so.

When Emma walked into Foot Loose that night, Clifford was restocking whiskey. Hearing Andy mutter about a "pretty little thing," he wondered who Andy was trying to flirt with. Oh, hell no. He ain’t flirtin’ with her... he thought as Emma approached.

Clifford waited until she sat down. "What can I get you?"

Andy slid onto the stool next to Emma. "Howdy, ma’am... what’s a pretty little thing like you doin’ here tonight?" he asked, ignoring Clifford.

"She’s gettin’ a drink and bein’ left alone," Clifford said to Andy, brows raised at Emma. "So, what’ll it be?"

Andy said, “I get it, Clifford; you’re sweet on her already! I’d never try’n steal a lady away from my brother… y’all have yourselves a good night!"

As Andy walked to Easton's table, Clifford wanted to punch him.

Turning to Emma, Clifford said, "Sorry ‘bout that, ma’am. We don’t let him off the farm much. He don’t know how to behave." He smirked.

"How about some Jack on the rocks?" Emma asked. She'd spent the day trying to track down people from the night of the murder but hadn’t had much luck; she was an outsider. Emma needed Clifford's help to talk to his patrons.

"Sure thing," Clifford said, grabbing a glass and filling it with ice. He slid the drink to Emma. "You need anythin’, just lemme know, alright?"

Emma nodded, sipping her drink and looking around the typical, homey bar. A bubbly brunette strolled in, hopping onto a stool and smiling at Clifford.

"Whatcha wantin’, Allie?" Clifford asked his sister.

"Just checkin’ on my big brother after his night in the pokey," Allie teased, watching as he slid her usual over. "You doin’ alright, Clifford?"

"Yep," Clifford answered, glancing at Emma.

Allie followed his gaze, squealing as she saw Emma. She lightly smacked Clifford's arm. "Clifford Morgan! Are you sweet on someone?" Allie whispered, "She ain’t from around here. How have you been keepin’ this from everyone?"

Clifford blushed and shook his head. "Aw, hell, Allie, I ain’t sweet on her! She’s just a good-lookin’ gal. She’s that FBI lady, here investigatin’ the murder."

"Ah," Allie said, taking a drink. She knew Clifford was alone.

Determined to change that, Allie slid onto the stool beside Emma. "Howdy! I’m Allie Morgan! How long you plannin’ to be in town?"

Emma looked up, smiling tightly. "Oh, I don’t know. As long as it takes. You said your last name was Morgan?"

"Sure did! My brother owns this place! You had him locked up last night? He’s good-lookin’, isn’t he? And smart! Why, ole Clifford is the catch of Boone County! Sorry for bein’ rude. I’m Allie." She held out her hand, noticing Emma didn’t wear a wedding ring.

This was going to be fun.

“I’m Emma. Emma Louis. Agent Louis, FBI.” Emma gulped and took a drink, suddenly nervous. Her eyes went to Clifford.

Allie noticed Emma watching her brother. "Excitin’ things happenin’ around here. Never had a murder before. People tight-lipped?"

Emma shrugged, taking another drink, her eyes going to Clifford. She knew he was the key to solving the puzzle.

Allie didn’t miss Emma’s interest. Time to work some magic, Allie thought. "I have an idea to help you, Emma! There’s a barn dance and hog roast Saturday – a benefit for the Purple Lady. If you showed up with Clifford, people might talk. Want me to set it up?"

“Uh...” Emma hadn’t expected this.

Allie called her brother over. “Clifford! Takin’ anyone to the hog roast Saturday?”

Clifford looked between them. "Wasn’t plannin’ on goin’, Allie. And I don’t dance." He glanced at Emma, smirking.

Emma looked into Clifford’s eyes. Without thinking, she said, “Your sister is right, Mr. Morgan-"

“Clifford. Mister Morgan was our Daddy," Clifford said softly, blushing. “Pardon the interruption. You were sayin’?”

“Emma. Not a ma’am yet, Clifford." Emma smiled. "Look, your sister is right. Your help would gain trust. If they saw me with you, people might talk. Sooner I get the info, sooner I go back to Pittsburgh, and life gets back to normal. Pick me up, walk around, introduce me, drop me off." Emma smiled at Allie. “Thanks for the idea.”

Clifford looked between the two, nodding. He was already anxious.

Allie made herself scarce. She knew Emma and Clifford had been making eye contact. Now she had to make sure Andy didn’t ruin things.

Emma stayed until she could barely keep her eyes open, observing. She nodded to Clifford as she left, and he smiled and waved.

Clifford had always let Andy and Allie talk while he listened. He figured listening made him a thinker and that the Morgans fooled people.

Clifford felt like Emma was a good listener and thinker too. As he fell asleep, Clifford wondered if Emma could ever be happy in Boone County.

Clifford woke up at noon. He had to be at the bar for a delivery in an hour.

Mornings sucked.

After coffee, he went to the Foot Loose.

Emma sat in the motel, planning. She decided to revisit the crime scene.

She saw Clifford unloading alcohol.

Oh yes, there was more to Clifford Morgan than met the eye.

Emma got out of the car. As Clifford returned, his face lit up. “Hi, Emma. Needin’ to look around back there?”

Emma nodded, briefly noting his biceps. "Yes. Make sure nothing got missed.”

Clifford hefted a box.

She failed, and Clifford tilted his head toward the back lot, amused. “Have a looksie then. Got drinks inside if you get thirsty – it’s hot.”

Emma gulped, thinking, Yeah, it’s hot, before nodding and going to the backlot. Her investigation didn’t turn up anything new. She was sure Clifford had nothing to do with the murder.

She eyed the door, deciding to get a cold drink. Inside, she followed the sounds of boxes to the walk-in cooler.

Deciding to help, Emma picked up a box propped against the door, stepping inside as the door swung shut. Clifford looked horrified.

“That box was holdin’ the door open. The latch has been busted. " Clifford grabbed the box and reached the door. He pushed, but it wouldn't budge.

“Find a box. Looks like we’re stuck until Allie or Andy lets us out.”

Emma flushed. "I-I’m so sorry," Emma stammered, sitting on a crate.

“Ain’t nothin’ to worry about; you didn’t know," Clifford said, pulling out his phone. “Could be worse," he grinned, swiping at his phone.

“H-How?”

“You could be stuck in a meat locker with pig carcasses,” Clifford said before adding, “Or stuck in the Grocery Castle's milk cooler with a Bang brother. This is better.”

As Emma remembered to breathe, she nodded. “Yeah. I agree.”

Clifford hated using his phone. He had the biggest phone they offered with an Otterbox, yet it felt tiny in his hands. The phone didn’t register anything when he used his artificial hand.

He texted his brother first. Andy had to be at work. Next, he texted his sister.

"Allie, could you come let me outta the damn beer cooler? The latch is busted, and Emma didn’t know and locked us in here. It’s damn cold, too, so hurry."

At the beauty shop, Allie read Clifford's text.

Well, now… I couldn’t have asked for a better situation. A cool freezer, two people shivering… plus, I have two clients waiting here…

Allie smirked and replied.

"I’ll get there as soon as I can. Y’all should cuddle together for heat or somethin’."

Clifford almost choked. There was no way that was gonna happen. He hardly knew Emma, and it wasn’t that cold.

Emma looked up from her phone, seeing Clifford shake his head as he read the message.

“Everything alright?” she asked as he unpacked bottles.

“Yeah, um, my sister’ll be comin’ along to let us out, just gotta give her a little bit. She’s with a client.” Clifford concentrated on the bottles, feeling the cold settle in.

“Want some help?” Emma asked.

“Nah, this ain’t no work for a lady,” Clifford drawled.

Emma smiled, handing him a bottle. “Well, I did get a Bachelor’s Degree in Criminal Justice and go through a tough FBI Training Academy – I think I can handle helping you unload some crates, Clifford. Besides, if we keep moving, we’ll stay warmer, right?”

“Suppose so,” Clifford mumbled.

“Whatcha readin’ anyways?”

“Fahrenheit 451. Again. Do you like to read?” Emma said, handing him another bottle.

Clifford quoted, “We cannot tell the precise moment when friendship is formed. As in filling a vessel drop by drop, there is at last a drop which makes it run over; so in a series of kindnesses, there is at last one which makes the heart run over.”

Emma chuckled. “You like to read, then.”

“Yep,” Clifford answered, “Used to get teased somethin’ fierce for it too.”

They worked in silence until the cooler was stocked. Emma sat on an empty crate, and Clifford leaned against a rack.

“Where you from in England?” Clifford asked.

“London,” Emma said.

She realized Clifford was shivering and rubbed his arms.

“Just trying to keep you warm,” Emma replied.

“Thanks.” Clifford said. “I been to London. A couple times.”

“Yeah?”

“Uh-huh. When I was stationed in Germany. Was on leave and wanted to see somethin’ new. I always liked history, so London was the perfect choice then.” Clifford noticed Emma shivering. “You’re cold, too.”

“Not so much now. What did you think of my hometown?”

“It was fascinatin’,” Clifford replied. “Went to Paris one weekend too. Never did make it to Rome, though.”

“I’ve never been to Rome either.”

“No?” He asked, resisting the urge to kiss her.

Emma stood up, almost ready to kiss Clifford, but the cooler door opened, causing her to jump.

Clifford hissed.

Allie looked between them. “Y’all need me to lock this thing back up so y’all can get back to whatever you were doin’?”

Emma calmly said, “No need since we weren’t doing anything but chatting about your brother’s time in the service.”

After Emma walked out, Allie looked at her brother. “Thanks for gettin’ here so fast, Allie,” Clifford said before brushing past her.

His eyes went to Emma.

“Should have waited five more minutes,” Allie mumbled, heading back to work.

Emma looked at Clifford. “So, I was thinking,” Emma started, “Since, you know, I locked us in the cooler by accident – I am so, so sorry, by the way... I thought, maybe I could buy us lunch, you know, to make up for us almost freezing to death and all.”

“I’m more of a breakfast guy, but okay. If we go to the café, I can still get me some burnt bacon, eggs, and hash browns. And coffee, of course.”

Emma grinned back. “Coffee sounds good. Cream, two sugars – let’s go!”

“Want to ride with me, and I can bring you back here?” Emma asked.

“No offense, but I’m thinkin’ your car is pretty small, and I’m a pretty big guy… but I’m supposin’ if I can fit in Allie’s car, I can probably fit in yours. Let’s give ‘er a whirl.”

As he got out of Emma’s car, Clifford was thanking God for muscle cars.

“Chicken Fried Steak is good. Just don’t be askin’ for no brown gravy-like Yanks usually do. Old Edna might hit you with her order pad and walk away.”

“Noted,” Emma said, “What, exactly. I mean, I am British by birth…”

“Don’t let nobody ‘round here hear you sayin’ that, ok? Might cause a riot or somethin’. Better stick to a cheeseburger and fries then.” Clifford looked up as Edna appeared.

“Hello there, Clifford! Want your usual breakfast?”

“And what’ll you have, sweetie?”

Emma glanced at Clifford and smirked, “Cheeseburger and fries, please. And some coffee… and a chocolate milkshake.”

“So, I been thinkin’ about this here case of yours,” Clifford said. “Now, all my experience with gangsters, of course, is from readin’ and watchin’ The Sopranos and documentaries, but they don’t give you some menacin’ soundin’ nickname unless you are a trusted member of an organization. So, why would someone like that be in Boone County? We ain’t got nothin’ here no one would want, you know?”

They ate.

“Clifford… is that char on your bacon?”

“Yep. Just the way I like it.”

“Okay, so, why was he here in the middle of nowhere? No offense, of course.”

“Why, indeed?” said Clifford. “Seems to me he was probably waitin’ for someone. I mean, Boone County is in the middle o’ nowhere, as you put it. When he was sittin’ at the bar, he kept lookin’ around like he was waitin’ for someone... I would bet my good hand that he met someone out back who wanted to whack him.”

“Good points,” Emma said. “This is the best burger I have ever tasted.”

“Wait ‘til you get some of the hog roast in yer mouth,” Clifford said. “Plus, you know… you get to talk to folks and figure out who this gangster might’ve been talkin’ to outside.”

“Guess Saturday will be… important then, huh? I mean… for my case.”

“Yep. Saturday’s gonna be important for yer case. Of course,” Clifford murmured.

“So, Sopranos, huh?” Emma teased.

“Yep. I don’t watch much television. I’d rather read."

“Do y’all need anythin’ else?” Edna asked, dropping off the check.

Clifford and Emma’s hands touched.

“Oh,” Emma gasped.

“Sorry, habit, I guess, to pay for a lady.”

Emma grabbed the check. “I gotta get you back. I have a conference call with my boss in half an hour.”

They were silent until they reached Foot Loose. “So, you have my number in case you find anything out or in case you have more theories… But in case I don’t talk to or see you before Saturday – what time should I expect you?”

“Oh, um, Well, hog roast starts at three, so maybe two-thirty or so? Sound good?”

“Yeah. See you then, Clifford.”

Saturday couldn’t come soon enough.

Clifford watched Emma pull away, knowing he was truly screwed. If Emma asked him to, he would do whatever she asked.

Clifford sat up as his alarm beeped, hair falling into his face as he blinked in the afternoon light.

Today was the day he was taking Emma to the hog roast and barn dance. Today would be a good day.

As he showered, Clifford wondered if Emma was as excited as he was. He shouldn’t be. Agent Emma Louis was going to cause him nothing but heartbreak. She wasn’t the type of woman who would be happy in a tiny town in West Virginia. Emma Louis was focused on her career, independent and happy in a big city.

Oh, how he wished things were different. Emma could never fall for a guy like him – he shouldn’t worry about it. He was helping her solve a murder, and that was all.

He pulled up to her hotel at their agreed-upon time, trying not to choke as he saw Emma exit her room. His sister had advised her how to dress for a barn dance – the cutoff jean shorts, cowboy boots and plaid button down top, unbuttoned to reveal a white tank top underneath, would definitely fit in. Emma looked absolutely stunning, and he thought he was going to have a hard time stringing words together.

“Hey, Clifford!” Emma said cheerfully, sliding into the passenger seat with ease, her smile rendering him speechless.

His ears were probably bright red. He put his truck in gear, mumbling a “Hey, Emma!” as he concentrated on driving.

The hog roast was in progress as Clifford pulled into the grass-covered yard, looking at Emma as he killed the engine.

Licking her lips, Emma said, ”So, our plan is for you to be seen with me – grab my hand or something. Really sell it, that you’re here with me. That should make people comfortable talking to me.”

“Right, got it,” Clifford mumbled, swallowing hard. She might be playing at liking him – but with the way his heart was thudding, Clifford wasn’t sure he could play at liking Emma.

He did like her. A lot, in fact.

“You, um, you look real nice, Emma.” Clifford felt himself blushing, but the smile he got in return was worth his embarrassment.

“Thanks, Clifford. You look good too. Are you ready to do this?” Emma tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, biting her bottom lip.

Clifford nodded, opening the door and going around to open Emma’s. Once again, she graced him with a smile, and Clifford felt his heart thump faster.

Stop that, heart, Clifford thought. She ain’t never gonna be yours, so stop thumping away harder every time she looks at you.

Emma slid out of his truck, sniffing the air with a grin. “I don’t know what they are cooking, but it smells delicious!”

“They’re roastin’ a couple of hogs over an open pit. I’m sure there’s some homemade baked beans, coleslaw, potato salad, tomato and cucumber salad, a whole bunch of pies, probably some watermelon for the kids… and beer. Lots of beer and whiskey, I can tell you that for certain, since I had to order extra.”

Emma replied, “Perfect. I’m starving!”

The strains of Jon Pardi’s Head Over Boots floated through the air as they left the truck, and Clifford groaned inwardly.

By the way she was looking around, he was hopeful she hadn’t caught the lyrics to the song. As she looked over at him, she gave him a small smile, reaching out and sliding her hand into his.

Contentment closed over him, and Clifford wouldn’t remember his own name if someone had asked him right then. He guided them towards the barn, and after paying their small entry fee – he once again got to witness the wonder on Emma’s face as she took in the inside of the barn.

Purple and white lights had been strung from the central lighting fixture. Bales of straw and hay lined the walls, with the center of the barn left open for dancing. The deejay booth sat at one end of the barn, and Clifford knew that later the deejay would be replaced by a band. He could feel everyone’s eyes on him as they walked inside.

The Purple Lady leaned closer to her best friend, saying something that Clifford was sure would be around the county by the end of the night. She looked up from her throne and waggled her fingers at Clifford in greeting. He gave her a half-smile, looking around the room to find his brother and sister.

He hadn’t located them yet when he caught sight of a blonde head rocketing towards him, and Clifford had to drop Emma’s hand to catch his niece, Sunny’s sweet face smiling up at him as she hugged him and wrapped her legs around him. “Uncle Clifford! Guess what?”

“What, Sunnybear?”

“I finished Prisoner of Azkaban last night!”

“You did? Guess that means we need to go to the library on Monday for Goblet of Fire, huh?”

“Can we please, Uncle Clifford? Can you pick me up after school and take me?”

“Oh, I think I can manage that, Sunnybear,” Clifford said, grinning at her now. “Where’s your Daddy and Aunt Allie?”

“Daddy’s outside by the pit with Moody, fightin’ about who can make the better barbeque, and Aunt Allie is gabbin’ with her friends about hair or somethin’. Sylvie’s around here, too. Who’s your friend, Uncle Clifford?” Sunny looked at Emma, giving the woman a smile as she squirmed out of Clifford’s arms and settled herself back on her feet once more.

“Oh, um,” Clifford started to mumble, his face turning red once more. Luckily, Emma took the reins, giving Sunny a smile and introducing herself.

“Hi there, my name’s Emma!” Her accent was so lilting, so beautiful, that Clifford was once again rendered speechless.

Sunny giggled before remarking, “You got a pretty accent, Emma. Are you sweet on my Uncle Clifford? Are you his girlfriend or somethin’?” Sunny looked between both of them, practically bouncing on her feet.

She been hangin’ around Allie too damn much, Clifford thought, his face coloring even more now.

“Well, now, he is pretty sweet, isn’t he?” Emma winked at Clifford, reaching over and grabbing his hand again. “As far as being his girlfriend… not right now, but maybe someday, if he asks.” Emma bumped him with her shoulder, and Clifford gulped, trying to make sure he was getting enough air so that he didn’t faint.

Sunny grinned and said, “That’s good, ‘cuz Aunt Allie said he needs to settle down and start makin’ babies soon. He ain’t never had a girlfriend before. Aunt Allie says that’s ‘cuz he likes readin’ and history and stuff, and ain’t many gals in Boone County like that.” Sunny looked around Emma, spotting someone she knew before looking back at Clifford and Emma and saying, “Nice to meet you, Emma! I’ll see you after school on Monday, Uncle Clifford!” As she ran off to meet her friends, Clifford once again found himself standing alone with Emma, her hand tiny in his as he wondered just what he should say now.

“I, uh, I’m sorry ‘bout that. Sunny’s pretty excitable once she gets goin’ and all…” Clifford mumbled as he looked down at Emma. Luckily, she didn’t seem to be phased by it, and she smiled up at him.

“It’s alright. I was that age once, I understand. Do you think the food is ready yet?” Her smile widened at the mention of food, and Clifford couldn’t help but smile back at her.

“We can go see! ‘Sides, my brother is out there, and he can get mighty worked up if he’s tryin’ to claim the crown of barbeque king. I might need to mediate.” Clifford somehow managed to let out a chuckle, his hand tightening around Emma’s as he led her back outside and around the back, where the delicious smells of roast pig simmering on the pits wafted to their nostrils.

Emma let out a moan that Clifford could only describe as sexual at the smell of the food, and he felt a tightening in his groin at the sound, even though he chose to ignore it. Soon enough, she would have all the information she needed for her case, and then she would be gone.

Clifford tugged on Emma’s hand as he spotted Andy, guiding her towards the barbeque pits, where his brother was in a heated discussion with Easton about what goes in the perfect barbeque sauce. “I’m tellin’ you, you have to use more Worcestershire sauce, or else that sauce is gonna taste like some Yankee city boy made it – I should know, I make the best sauce in West Virginia,” Andy was talking with his hands.

As they approached, everyone stopped talking, a smirk coming to Andy’s lips as he took in the sight of Clifford and Emma holding hands. “Hello, Clifford. Hello, Emma, is it? How you gettin’ on here in Boone County? Is Clifford treatin’ you right?” Andy’s smirk grew as he noticed his younger brother blushing, which also drew a chuckle from Easton’s lips.

“He’s treating me just fine, thanks. And everyone is very kind to me here,” Emma replied with an easy smile, squeezing Clifford’s hand gently.

Andy looked at his brother, then back at Emma before remarking, “Good. Our Daddy taught us how to treat the ladies right, didn’t he, Clifford?”

“Somethin’ like that,” Clifford mumbled.

Luckily, Emma tugged on his hand, giving him a sunny smile before saying, “Let’s go get some food, what do you say?”

“Sure, we can do that,” Clifford replied – because if they were eating, they didn’t have to be talking – and talking was something that Clifford was finding difficult to do in Emma’s presence today.

As day stretched into night, and the fireflies came out, dotting the horizon with their cheery light, Clifford found himself relaxing. Emma made it easy – she was just so charming. She also really loved to eat – leaving Clifford to wonder just where she packed all that food.

They sat together on a bale of straw, their thighs brushing against the others as they enjoyed a piece of peach pie with vanilla ice cream on top, watching the game of horseshoes. “This is so good,” Emma declared. Clifford smiled at her, the smile widening as he noticed the small smudge of ice cream on the corner of her mouth. Without really giving it much thought, he reached out and wiped the ice cream away with a long finger, trying not to enjoy the softness of her lips under his skin as he did so.

Blushing, he pulled away when Emma stilled, her eyes widening.

“I-oh god, I am so sorry-“ Clifford stammered. Standing, he muttered, “I- I’m gonna go find somethin’ to drink. A lot of somethin’s.”

“Clifford,” Emma said, looking up at him, “It’s okay. You’re fine. Really.” She reached out, grabbing his hand again and smiling – that smile that had been making his heart stutter all damn day – before asking, “If you’re getting a beer, could you grab one for me, too, please?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Clifford muttered, giving her a half-smile before he loped off, returning a few moments later with two cold bottles of beer. Settling down beside her once more, Emma glanced around as she took a swallow of her beer, trying to imagine having a life this laid back.

She had to admit, there was something appealing about sitting next to a good-looking man, watching the fireflies dance in the night sky as she drank a cold beer. The sounds of laughter and muted conversations drifted out of the barn, and the soft strains of some country song she would never have listened to any other time.

“Hey, Clifford?” Emma asked after she had observed people drifting towards the barn, the clean up beginning in the eating area.

“Yeah?” He replied, looking over at Emma.

“We should probably go inside and mingle. You know, so more people see us together?” Emma took another swallow of beer, and Clifford felt the familiar lump forming in his throat.

Right. She’s only here for her job… Clifford thought before standing and looking down at Emma.

“I’m supposin’ so,” he finally got out, sticking his hand out so she could slide hers into it. I ain’t nothin’ to her but a means to an end, just gotta remember that.

Still, as Emma stood and moved alongside him towards the barn, Clifford had a hard time remembering that she wasn’t his, that she was only there to do a job – because he desperately wished that she wanted him as much as he wanted her.

The music grew louder as they drew closer to the barn, and as they stepped inside, Allie waved at them both, beckoning them over to her.

“Awww, I knew that outfit would look good on you, Emma! With your complexion, well, I just knew it. Clifford here hasn’t been able to take his eyes off you all night, y’all are the talk of Boone County right now!”

Clifford let out a low groan, thankful for the music drowning out the sound.

“So,” Allie said, bouncing on her feet as she looked between the two of them, “Clifford needs to teach you how to 2-Step! We got the music for it, of course… don’t let him tell you he can’t dance, either, Emma. He’s light on his feet for bein’ a big guy like he is – I think it was all that time in the military, myself.”

“Hush, Allie, Emma don’t wanna dance with me…”

Clifford’s face was bright red again. The opening chords of Brooks & Dunn’s Neon Moon started playing, and Emma grinned at Clifford, tugging on his hand for a moment as she remarked, “Who says I don’t? Come on, Clifford, show me what you can do on the dance floor!”

As she pulled him towards the center of the barn, where couples were dancing, Clifford looked back at Allie, glaring at her as she gave him a double thumbs up.

Emma watched everyone else for a moment, noting how they were stepping and holding each other before she turned towards Clifford, looking up at him and grinning. “We got this. Let’s show them all something.”

“You’ve done this before,” Clifford said.

“Nope! Just a quick learner,” she said, winking at Clifford and taking great delight in watching his face color again. His mechanical hand was on her waist and his right hand was twined with hers as they danced, and he could feel heat radiating off her skin through her shirt.

They soon found their rhythm together, twirling and stepping across the floor as song after song played, until they were both red in the face and almost breathless. As the music faded away, Clifford pulled Emma off the dance floor, guiding her out the open back door, until they were standing outside, the rush of the Coal River a soft backdrop to a quiet, clear, starry night. The frogs were croaking merrily.

Emma was standing beside him, looking up at the stars in wonder, her hand still in his. Clifford also looked up, smiling as he mentally named off all the constellations he saw.

Pulling on her hand gently, Clifford led them even further away from the barn, where the light pollution would be even less. As Emma looked back up at the sky, she let out a soft gasp, murmuring, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many stars. They’re beautiful.”

“Yeah, they are,” Clifford answered, but he was watching Emma.

Clifford paused a moment before turning Emma towards him and pulling her into his arms, murmuring, “Dance with me some more, Emma.” His hands went to her waist again, his eyes looking into hers imploringly.

Emma smiled up at Clifford, not resisting when he pulled her into his arms. “There’s no music,” she said softly, letting out a small laugh before getting lost in his whiskey eyes.

“I got you,” Clifford said softly before pulling her into his arms more, his lips a hairsbreadth from her ear as he started to sing to her softly, his voice deep and steady as he started to sway with her. “I find it very, very easy to be true… I find myself alone when each day's through…Yes, I'll admit that I'm a fool for you… Because you're mine, I walk the line…”

Emma was finding it hard to breathe as Clifford started singing. Her heart was hammering in her chest, and her body seemed to fit perfectly against his as they danced in a small circle, completely lost in each other and the West Virginia night.

Both of them jumped when the firecrackers went off, Clifford scowling. By the sound of the laughter coming from the other side of the barn, it was one of the Bang brothers.

Running a hand through his hair, Clifford looked at Emma, who had jumped away from him at the intrusive noise and was looking around like she wanted to punch someone, and after a moment he asked, “Do you wanna go get some ice cream or somethin’? There’s this little family-owned place over by Danville. They got the best soft serve in West Virginia. I mean, unless you gotta meet more people, so you can ask ‘em your questions easier when you start that.” Clifford knew he was babbling nervously, looking everywhere but at Emma.

“Clifford,” Emma said softly, looking up at him as she grabbed his hand. “I’d love to.”

Flint’s Tast-T Freeze was less than a five minute drive from Madison, and the small, drive-up ice cream stand was brightly lit and inviting, a line of people waiting outside each of the four ordering windows. As Clifford and Emma stood in line, he was shocked when she slid her hand into his again, and he looked at her to find her smiling up at him. He smiled back, and as they reached the window, Emma scanned the menu for only a moment before ordering a chocolate milkshake. Clifford chuckled before ordering a chocolate cone for himself, and after they received their order, he led them to one of the small tables that were scattered along the small patio in front of the stand.

“Thank you,” Emma said after a few minutes of silence while they enjoyed their ice cream.

Clifford raised a brow to her in confusion. “For?”

Emma took a long pull from her straw before remarking, “I had you thrown into a holding cell overnight while I made my way here, interrogated you, accidentally locked you into a beer cooler with me, and now you are… well, you’ve been so sweet and nice and helpful. So, thank you.”

Clifford took a few licks of his cone before answering her. “You’re welcome. Always happy to help.”

They didn’t say much as they enjoyed the night air and their ice cream, and as he drove her back to her hotel, Clifford was constantly trying to remind himself that he wasn’t falling for her, that she’d be gone soon, and he’d be broken-hearted – but he knew he was already a goner. He’d been hooked from the moment he’d laid eyes on her.

He brought his truck to a stop next to her car parked in front of her room. As she put a hand on the door handle to open it, Clifford reached out and grabbed her hand, pulling her towards him. He was thankful she didn’t resist, and as his lips met hers, he was shocked when she put her arms around his neck, deepening the kiss.

It ended as soon as it began, and as she murmured, “Good night, Clifford,” and opened the door, Clifford was left feeling cold and lonely as he sat staring at nothing for a solid five minutes, his brain malfunctioning as he replayed the kiss over and over in his mind.

It wasn’t until he was home and in bed that he realized he had never told her good night as well.

Clifford wasn’t surprised when he woke up the next morning to find Allie frying some bacon and making coffee for him. It was Sunday, which meant the bar was closed, and Clifford felt a little sad knowing that he wouldn’t have a chance to see Emma there. Not that he thought she would show up or anything – but he was hoping she would.

Of course, maybe she never wanted to see him again after he had kissed her. Clifford hadn’t kissed all that many women in his life, but it seemed to him that Emma hadn’t complained about their kiss. In fact, he seemed to remember – with great clarity – that she had been the one to deepen the kiss, even. No, it seemed to him that if Emma had been mad about their kiss, she would have maybe socked him one, or gave him the underside of her tongue, for sure.

Yawning, Clifford got out of bed, stopping to use the bathroom before swiping his hair off his face and plodding out to his living room, stopping as he took in the sight of Emma, sitting at his kitchen table with a glass of orange juice and a plate of food in front of her.

Allie called out from the kitchen as she flipped a pancake, “Mornin’ Clifford! I decided to cook breakfast for us before church. Emma’ll be joinin’ us. Figure that could get her in even better with the Sunday mornin’ crowd, you know?”

Emma looked up from her plate, smiling almost shyly at Clifford while trying to keep her eyes on his, so she didn’t admire his body beneath the tight tee and gym shorts he apparently wore to bed. “Good morning, Clifford,” she said softly, her face coloring slightly. “I, um, Allie showed up this morning and told me her plan, and it sounded solid. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Nah, I don’t mind seein’ you, Emma. You make burnt bacon for me, Allie?” Clifford sniffed at the air, trying to judge if his sister had burned the meat sufficiently enough for him to eat it.

“Sit yourself down, Clifford. You know I did. Got some hash browns and coffee too, since y’all had a late night last night!” Allie looked between Emma and Clifford, a small smirk coming to her lips as both of them blushed at the same time.

Allie magic workin’ again , she thought to herself as she piled bacon and hash browns onto a plate before filling a mug with coffee, bringing both to the table and sitting them down in front of Clifford. He had slid into the chair right beside Emma, which Allie noted with enthusiasm, her eyes sparkling happily. She wanted to jump up and down with excitement – but that could wait until later, after church, when Clifford and Emma were spending time together.

Alone time.

Because these two fools were sweet on each other, and Allie wouldn’t stand for her big brother getting his heart broken again. No, all it would take was for Emma seeing Clifford all gussied up for church, and she’d be asking for a transfer, so she could move down here to be closer to them all. Allie truly liked Emma, and, well, her brother deserved a good woman to settle down with.

Clifford shuffled to the table as Allie was getting his plate around, settling into the chair next to Emma. She gave him a look from under her long eyelashes that had his heart dancing in his chest, and his face turning shades of red that were probably off the color spectrum.

“Hey,” he said softly. “You don’t gotta listen to Allie and her ideas, you know. You could have slept in. I don’t usually go to church or nothin’. Makes me uncomfortable.” Clifford shrugged apologetically at Emma, trying not to faint when her hand came up to rest on his arm as she smiled at him.

“It’s ok. Allie’s idea is good. If people see me at church with you, they’ll trust me even more. I still need to speak to a lot of them. Church makes me uncomfortable too, for what it’s worth.” Emma patted his arm before withdrawing her hand so she could shovel food into her mouth. “I swear, I am going to gain so much weight here.” Emma smiled over at Clifford, who now looked crestfallen for some reason.

I am in love with this woman , Clifford thought to himself as he watched Emma start to eat again, the loss of her hand on his arm making him feel suddenly sad. She’s gonna be leavin’… and I am gonna have to nurse a broken heart. I better order some more Johnnie Walker Black Label with my next liquor order. I’m gonna need it. Daddy always said that was the best nurse he ever had.

Clifford set to work eating, not trusting himself to say anything besides begging Emma to somehow stay in Boone County forever.

As Clifford emerged from his bedroom some time later, dressed in a clean black tee, topped with the only suit jacket he owned and a fresh pair of his nicest pants, he tried not to stare at the sight of Emma, dressed in a green dress that hovered just above her knees.

Surely God was in Boone County today, presenting himself to the masses in the form of an angel named Emma Louis.

Emma smiled at him, and Clifford almost felt faint in the knees, his heart dancing again in his chest as he walked further into the living room. “You…” Clifford swallowed hard, forcing the words out of his mouth and hoping they came out sounding legible. “You look gorgeous, Emma. The congregation of the Madison Baptist Church ain’t never seen an angel in person before.” His face colored, and he wanted to hide in a closet at how cheesy the words sounded.

If Emma thought they were cheesy, she didn’t show it, the laugh that left her lips sounding like music to his ears. “You look very handsome yourself, Clifford. I am sure all those ladies that have a crush on you will be trying to catch your eye today, seeing you like this.” Emma smiled at Clifford, mentally telling herself that she would not punch anyone who tried flirting with this man.

She’d really want to punch them, though.

Allie cleared her throat, and both Emma and Clifford looked at her. “Y’all done makin’ eyes at each other so we can go?” She was practically jumping up and down with joy, and Clifford wished she would stop making the assumption that he and Emma would ever be anything more than friends – if they were even that. Clifford had to remind himself many times a day that Emma was only being nice to him so that she could get the information she needed for her case – nothing more, nothing less.

It was his stupid heart that had betrayed him, after all. He kept telling the damn thing to stop falling for her, but it hadn’t listened. Now he had gotten himself into a heap of trouble, because when she left, he was going to have to get good and drunk for a few nights before he would be able to try and forget about her.

Madison Baptist Church was a pleasant looking brick building set atop a small hill. Once they had parked and made their way inside, Emma was slightly surprised at how cheerful it was, the light-colored wood and stained glass letting in a lot of light – which somehow seemed appropriate in a so called House of God. She and Clifford slid into a pew besides Allie, and it seemed as if everyone in the congregation turned to look at them, the Purple Lady letting out a small, stunned gasp at seeing one of “those Morgan’s” in her church.

It was true, the Morgan kids weren’t regular seekers of the word of God. The last time Clifford had set foot in this church, it had been for Sunny’s christening, and then for his Daddy’s funeral. Allie insisted they make an appearance on Easter as a family, of course, as any good Southern family should. Beyond that, Clifford found his peace within the pages of his books or behind his bar – or, more recently, in a pair of hazel eyes he couldn’t get out of his head.

Sam and Fish Bang both turned to look at them, glancing at Emma and smirking before looking at each other, then at Clifford. Apparently they were still on the righteous path of God – even though they were sitting on buckets of money from the little job they had helped him and Andy with – because they both turned around and looked at the pulpit as Clifford scowled at them. The good Pastor made his appearance then, and even as his flock bowed their heads in prayer, the only thing Clifford could think about was the way Emma’s thigh was brushing against his, as well as her arm. Surely it wasn’t right to have carnal thoughts in a house of God – but Clifford couldn’t stop himself. As the pastor preached about staying on a Godly path so you could reap your rewards in heaven, Clifford looked over at Emma, only to find her looking back at him. If I could have her, Clifford thought as Emma reached out and grabbed his hand, smiling at him, I’d already be reaping my rewards in Heaven.

For some reason, Emma kept her hand in his during the rest of the service, and all the way out to his car afterwards. The whole county would be buzzing with the news that Clifford Morgan had found himself a girl – which would make it twice as bad when she went back home.

As Clifford pulled out onto the street, Emma looked over at him before saying quietly, “I… I had a good time last night, Clifford.”

Clifford felt his face flushing as he mumbled a response, “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I thought, maybe, we could spend time together? I mean… that would help my case, right?” Emma hated that she had to hide the fact that she simply wanted to spend time with Clifford under the guise of her work – but she couldn’t let herself get too close.

Clifford worked his bottom jaw as he tried to control his emotions. Of course, it was all about her job. Why wouldn’t it be? He was the idiot who let himself fall for her – it wasn’t like she had a clue how he felt or anything. “Yeah, I’m guessin’ it would. I don’t usually do nothin’ on Sundays but read, and maybe watch a movie.” Clifford shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. “You’re more than welcome to hang out at my place if you want. Gotta be better than that motel room.”

Emma let out a laugh, the sound like the tinkling of bells in the small space of his car. “Yeah. Plus the company is better at your place.” Emma looked over at him, winking playfully, and Clifford let a half-smile slide onto his lips as he pulled into his driveway.

As Emma sat next to him on the couch, her leg pressed against his as she watched a movie and he read a book, Clifford wanted to pretend that this was a normal day, that she was his girl and they were happily in love – but he had to keep reminding himself that none of that was true.

He was still alone, and he would probably always be alone. It was just the way of things. Sure, the Morgan curse might have been broken with their heist – but his love life was still cursed, it seemed.

The next two weeks passed quickly, and Emma found herself in a comfortable routine – perhaps one that was becoming too comfortable.

She would wake in the morning and shower, then go to the motel lobby for a cup of the most horrendous coffee she had ever consumed. She wished, every morning, that she could sneak into Clifford’s place and use his coffee maker for some real coffee. Even though his breakfast of choice was disgusting – who ate bacon that was burnt? – the man knew, and enjoyed, his coffee.

He probably left his door unlocked, so she could try, she supposed, or just send a text to Allie – who would be far too happy to let her into her brother’s house.

Then she would go about her business, interviewing the residents of Boone County she still needed statements from. Every single one of them always brought Clifford into their conversations. ‘I am so glad to see Clifford settling down, it’s so nice that he has someone.’ ‘Them Morgan boys have always been good lookin’, about time Clifford found someone.’ ’You’re a pretty little thing, Clifford got himself a looker, didn’t he?’

At the end of the day, Emma almost found it hard to look in the mirror, knowing that she would have to break Clifford’s heart soon. Of course, it wasn’t just his heart she would break, because as much as she wanted to deny it, as much as she wanted to file it away in a neat little box marked People I used for the FBI to get information , Emma cared about him.

She liked to see him smile. She liked that she could make him smile. She liked his slow, Southern drawl – and she loved the way he said her name, like he was almost worshipping her. She would lay in bed at night, not able to sleep, and she would replay their dance in her head, over and over, the way his voice sounded as he sang to her in the dark, the way his lips had felt against hers when they kissed in his truck.

After she was done interviewing people, she would head over to the Foot Loose with her laptop, and she would take her spot at the end of the bar. She would listen and watch the goings on, hoping to overhear something she might be able to use while she typed up another report to email to Harker. The bulk of her time, she had to admit, would be spent watching the really, really hot bartender as he worked. Sometimes Clifford would catch her watching him, and he would let a slow smirk come to his lips before he went back to his business.

After he closed the bar, he would sit and talk with her, and sometimes, if she wasn’t tired, they would go back to his house and watch TV. Emma always chose the same show – Bar Rescue – and Clifford would pretend not to watch it, pretending to read his book, although she would hear him muttering every few minutes about something on the show. “I would never do that at my bar…” he grumbled once, “Look at ‘em, wearin’ damn pirate get-ups. That’s plain stupid.”

Emma’s favorite part of the day, though, was when she leaned up against him as she watched TV. She would curl her legs underneath her, and he would drape his arm around her. The man was an oven, and she loved leaning her head against his chest, hearing his heart beating steady and strong under her ear.

She would think about that every night as she tossed and turned in the tiny, lumpy motel bed. She was certain she would sleep like a baby next to him, listening to that heartbeat under her ear like a metronome keeping time with her own.

The call came as she sat at the bar, watching Clifford as he poured the eighth whiskey sour for one of the town’s drunks. Glancing at her phone, Emma winced as she saw the number before answering, her eyes meeting Clifford’s as she moved out to the porch so she could hear better.