No Offense - Meg Cabot Page 0,79

her, leaving him and the cat outside in the suddenly still, all-consuming darkness.

The cat, unperturbed, yawned and sauntered toward him. John took a quick step backward, knowing what the cat intended to do—rub up against him and once again get its orange fur all over his uniform trousers.

“No,” he said. “No way, cat.”

He hurried down the steps to the hotel’s courtyard, fastening his belt as he went. The cat sat at the top of the stairs and watched him go with wide, unblinking eyes. John couldn’t help but think that the cat was judging him, much in the way he was judging himself. The evening that had started out as one of the best he’d had in as long as he could remember had ended in disaster.

But how? He couldn’t understand it. What had he done? Violated HIPAA by calling a victim’s parents?

What was so wrong with that? When it was during the course of an investigation, that was his job.

And yes, maybe he had mentioned that Tabitha was a little bit off her rocker. But he wasn’t going to lie about the facts in a case. Facts were facts. That didn’t mean he was lacking in empathy. He had plenty of empathy!

Just not for nitwits who went around breaking the law, putting the lives and property of innocent citizens at risk.

If Molly Montgomery couldn’t see this, then maybe she was right, and they couldn’t connect on a basic level.

Except . . .

Except.

Everything felt so right when they were together. So right and so good and so true.

Only now that they were fighting, everything felt terrible.

What was he going to do?

Chapter Twenty-Three

Molly

Molly couldn’t sleep at all that night.

Which was upsetting, because she hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before, either.

In fact, she realized as she stumbled down to the kitchen the next morning to help Joanne set up the breakfast buffet, she’d been sleeping pretty badly ever since she’d found that baby in her library’s restroom and met the blue-eyed sheriff who was now haunting her dreams—when she did manage to snatch a few minutes’ sleep, which wasn’t nearly often enough.

“So,” Joanne said, winking at Molly as she popped some of the Larsons’ famous blueberry muffins from their pan and onto a serving plate. “How did it go last night? I heard you had a visitor.”

Molly smiled wanly. “Great.” It was impossible to keep anything secret in a small hotel or on an island as tiny as Little Bridge. Soon everyone would know that she and the sheriff had slept together. It was only a matter of time.

Joanne beamed. “I knew it. I just knew you two were made for each other. You know why?”

“No. Why?”

“Because you both take your jobs so seriously. Not many people find their passions in life, but the two of you really have.”

“Hmmmm.” This was interesting. In fact, maybe they took their jobs a little too seriously. “Yes. Well.”

Why had she lashed out at him that way? She didn’t know. Well, she did know, but now that he was gone, it seemed so unreasonable. So he’d called Tabitha’s parents. So what? He’d obviously felt that he needed to. He was right that he’d spent more time with the girl than she had. He had to know what her mental state was, and what he was doing. Didn’t he?

Molly wasn’t sure. He was a man, and men were so . . . well, mysterious. No matter how many books she read, she didn’t think she’d ever understand them. Look at what had happened with her ex. Molly had thought she’d known him, and then he’d turned out to be someone completely different. Not that he’d cheated on her or turned out to be a gambling addict or a serial killer or anything like that. He’d simply assumed that after they were married and had kids, she was going to quit her career to homeschool them.

Not that this was such a terrible thing. In some situations, homeschooling was preferable and/or necessary. And some people—like Eric’s new fiancée, Ashley, at least according to her social media posts—would be thrilled to commit their lives to it.

But where had Eric gotten the idea that homeschooling a not-yet-existent child was something Molly wanted?

Maybe she had simply never really known him, and he had never really known her.

Well, she wasn’t going to make that mistake again.

It was just unfortunate that she’d already slept with the sheriff—well, not exactly unfortunate, because sleeping with him had been really fun. Better than fun. One of