Killian had thankfully given her a wide berth the rest of that evening.
The whole party was actually quite sedate. While they had been celebrating her brother David's birthday, the real partying had happened the night before at their local bar, The Rabbit Hole . Everyone was, of course, feeling a little delicate. And no one questioned Emma's quietness or how she slipped away to bed before any of the guests had left.
All of which she was thankful for, because she really she could not cope with Killian right now. She needed to wait for this whatever it was to blow over so they could go back to their usual antagonistic friendship.
Yet despite her efforts not to, she thought of him as she lay in bed that night and listened to the sounds of the ongoing celebration. His deep and distinctive voice was easy to pick out. He was always thick in the conversation with a tale or a joke. Always the life of the party. Convivial. Charming. Popular with just about everyone he met. Knowing he was there, just a wall or two away tormented her in a way she could not have anticipated.
Not that anything about her relationship with Killian Jones was predictable. Originally, they had worked for rival companies. Competing for the same jobs, they had had the occasional heated confrontation that never failed to leave her blood boiling. But then Jolly Roger Bail Bonds had been taken over by Emma's employer and they had became co workers. It was at first hard to overcome the ingrained rivalry and on the few occasions they had been forced to work together things had been prickly, to say the least.
But slowly his dry sense of humor had grown on her as the months ticked by. And he always brought her coffee when he went to get his own. The times when they were stuck together staking out some asshat or other, he found this way to engage her in conversation that made the hours tick easily by. It ended up that if they were both in the office, they would more often than not eat lunch together. Until, after six months of being co-workers, they were something resembling friends. Which would have been just about acceptable, she supposed.
Fate had other plans. It hadn't taken too long after that for him to figure out that her brother was a cop and then for him to wriggle himself into a friendship with David fuelled by a shared love of British soccer. The she definitely couldn't get away from him. He melted into her friendship group as if he had always been there. Still, he was, overall, a positive presence. One she was not averse to, yet always kept at arm's length. Never letting him peek beneath her infamous emotional walls.
(Not that she ever let anyone past those-)
But last night-
Yes, Graham had been on her mind as she had approached Killian. The handsome Irishman, with his pretty eyes and broad shoulders was certainly a joy to look at. And he was kind and polite and courteous. And boy had her brother pushed them together. "It's my birthday, Ems, just have a drink with him."
Already pretty drunk from multiple shots of rum, she'd tried to work up the urge to approach him. He was perfect . On paper. And she was single. Yet, instead of sidling up to the blonde where he stood at the bar, she found herself walking in the opposite direction to the table where she had earlier left Killian deep into a bottle of liquor.
She'd given him a cryptic smile as she approached the table. He'd cocked his head to the side, his lazy blue gaze penetrating even in the dark bar. Then she'd taken his hand and tugged him in the direction of the dancefloor.
There was one important fact in this moment.
Emma didn't dance. Not in the 'just to have fun' kinda way.
She drunk danced, when the drinks told her that this song was, like, the best one ever and her friends tugged her into the throng in front of the band of DJ booth. She also danced when trying to catch a guy's eye. She knew a few sexy snakes of her hip and suggestive glances could get most men hot under the collar. Not that she'd done that for a while.
Yet dancing with Killian was none of those things, she'd told herself. He was her friend. Wasn't he?
"Emma…" he'd complained as the threaded between the dancing bodies, only becoming quiet when she had placed her palms on his shoulders and smiled.
"Just a dance, Jones," she'd shrugged, before beginning to snake her hips to the music.
"You don't dance."
Emma's fingers slipped around to the open neck of his shirt, grasping the material. "I need to let off some steam," she sighed.
Whatever he was going to say, died upon his lips and the two began a rum fueled dance. His hands at her waist hers wrapped around his neck. It was surprisingly fun, thoughts of Graham easily slipping from her mind as she let herself enjoy the moment.
But then the poppy beats of an early Rihanna number had been replaced by the sexy chords of Santana's 'Smooth' and what had started as a light hearted frolic, became a slow and teasing mixture of tangled limbs and grinding hips. He'd sang the lyrics as his arms tightened around her waist and mouth had danced about her ear, his breath warm on her neck.
'Give me your heart, make it real or just forget about it'.
She spun around, laying back, she'd pressed herself closer to him, enjoying the firmness of his chest and swaying with abandon.
It felt good to be held by him. Even through the drunken haze she knew it.
He held her like he cared, like he wanted.
And as the final beats of the song played, she allowed herself to see something she'd been hiding from for months now.
Killian wanted her.
And more worryingly, she wanted him.
This revelation seriously complicated matters in a way she was fully unprepared for. As she stumbled away from him as the song died away, her hand slowly slipped from his as their eyes lingered upon each other's form.
Surely, if she didn't think about it, it was nothing.
She wouldn't think about it. She would not think about him. Or the way their bodies felt pushed together. Or all those repressed feelings trying to bubble to the surface.
If she went on as she did always, it would be fine.
There was not a thing between them.
She was sure of that.
She repeated those words as a mantra as she walked away and headed towards Graham at the bar.
/
He didn't mention their discussion in the kitchen again.
She was silently thankful.
He understood.
It was just a dance.
(If she told herself enough times it would be true.)
And it was, until things started to happen.
/
Many times, she had been told to ditch her car. The cheerful yellow paint job of the VW Bug was the most conspicuous color possible, she would admit that much. But she had a strange sense of sentimentality for the car that was the sole reminder of her first serious relationship (or perhaps a cautionary reminder would be a more apt description). It was also great for eating, napping and generally living in when the time called for it. As it often did when faced with a long stakeout.
Two weeks had passed since the party. Killian Jones was the farthest thing from her mind. She was patently not thinking about him as she read the latest trashy novel that Ruby had handed down to her. She was not imagining herself as the naive country girl and Killian as the dashing sailor who promised to take her away from the drudgery of farm life as he ravished her upon a haystack-
Until he was there, tapping on the driver's side window, a bag of takeout from Granny's diner clutched in his other hand.
After almost jumping out of her skin, she rolled down the window and gave him a confused look.
"Lunch?" he said, his grin almost contagious.
She schooled her expression into one of neutral indifference. "I have Cheetos," she replied, pretty sure there was a half empty bag in her glove box.
He rolled his eyes. "Leroy said you've been out here since last night. I brought you a grilled cheese. And some cocoa." He leant down and picked up one of the familiar styrofoam cups and her stomach gurgled traitorously.
"Fine," she sighed, "give it here."
She gestured to him to hand the food through the open window, but he had other ideas. Instead, moving around to the passenger door and after a bit of maneuvering with the items in his hand, yanking it open and sliding into the seat beside her.
"That wasn't an invitation, Jones."
He gave her a pointed look. "It's bloody freezing - and I'm doing you a good deed. At least let me warm up before you send me back out onto the barren streets of Boston."
"I can see your car parked two spaces down," she replied in a droll tone.
He simply smiled expectantly, the delicious goodies in the paper bag making their presence known to her nostrils. Her hunger outruled her head. "Okay, you can keep me company while I eat. In case this asshole I'm tailing finally gets out of bed."
Killian handed her the paper bag and she began to remove the contents, taking deep breaths of the familiar food smells.
"Is this another alimony case? Or is this a real criminal?"
So it seemed they were returning to their old sparring ways.
This was good.
"Hey, I can't help it if they need to send a woman to catch a man," she replied, shoving a hunk of cheesy bread into her mouth, quickly chewing. "But since you asked, he's an embezzler. Skipped bail, living here with an ex. So predictable."
"Aren't they all?"
"Men?" she shrugged. "Yeah."
"Ouch," he hissed. "That smacks of bitterness. Things not going well with your boyfriend?"
"What?" she asked, giving him a confused look in the rear-view mirror.
"Graham. Since you, you know, fancy him and all that, I'd assumed you'd made it official."
Emma licked her lips. "Please, what I do - or do not do - with my personal life is none of your business." She rolled her eyes and took another large bite of the sandwich, not letting herself dwell on his digging into her love life.
There was a second of silence as Killian straightened himself up in the passenger seat. "Ah yes, because there is no 'thing' between us."
Emma paused mid chew and then swallowed heavily. So he wasn't letting this go.
"Exactly."
This time their eyes met in the mirror. He stared her out for a few seconds until she felt her cheeks start to burn and she averted her gaze, focusing on the crumpled paper bag in her lap.
"So, what if I told you I had a date this weekend?"
Her heart beat seemed to slow, turning into a dull rolling thud. The sandwich sat heavily in her stomach. She knew he dated - he was a very handsome guy. This was nothing new.
She didn't care.
"I'd be thrilled for you," she insisted, before adding, "And feeling a little sorry for the girl."
"Hmmm," he purred, annoyingly ignoring her quip. "She's quite the catch. Blonde. Blue eyes, fantastic legs-"
Emma felt her irritation rise. She tossed the rest of the sandwich back into the container.
"I really don't care, Jones," she seethed.
"Is that so? Even if she has a masters in business and two bachelor's degrees-"
That was it. She spun in her seat until they were eye to eye. "I'm confused, why are you telling me this?"
He shrugged. "Why Swan, because we're friends. "
"Friends don't need to share everything," she replied, narrowing her eyes and wishing he would just go away.
"So you admit it, we are friends?"
Wordlessly, Emma raised her hands. If she were honest, right now she didn't know what they were. "Of a type?"
And then the teasing facade slipped a little, the hesitancy crept into his voice. "Not the romantic type?"
"Killian-" she whined, scrunching her eyes shut. Free lunches from Granny's for a year wouldn't be worth this torment.
Then she felt his hand on her shoulder. "Just kidding, love," he said in a soft tone. He ran his thumb over her collarbone. She felt the motion keenly, even through her thick leather jacket.
Pulling away, he smiled briefly. "Better be off, a date to plan and all."
"Good luck with that," she snipped as he reached for the door handle.
He simply nodded and left.
/
She spent the best part of the next six hours staring blindly at the dumb romance novel as she re-ran the conversation over and over in her head. She imagined this mysterious, sexy, intelligent date of his. She pictured him dancing with this faceless woman and kissing her and-
God, so much more.
She was almost thankful when Leroy called and said her skip had been caught during a road traffic stop. She had no idea how he had gotten out of the apartment without her seeing, but it gave her an excuse to drive home and work on that bottle of rum in the kitchen.
It was a pity the damn stuff just reminded her of him.