*Chapter 5

He cradles her head in his hands as if she's something precious, as if he'll never be able to let her go. While rubbing her cheek tenderly with his thumb he leans down and presses a kiss gently against her lips. She sighs into his mouth and raises her hand to reach around his neck and pull him closer...

"Earth to Rebecca."

She jolted immediately out of her reverie, blushing fiercely. The fact that she had been caught daydreaming by the town Reverend only made it worse. Not that he could have possibly known what she had been thinking about. Not unless she had a moronic, simpering look on her face. Which was, in all honesty, very likely. She blushed even deeper.

But either the Reverend didn't notice or he was polite enough to ignore it. "Are you alright?" he asked.

"Yes, Paul, I'm fine thanks," she said hastily. "Just sort of had my thoughts run away from me, you know how it is."

He nodded. "I understand completely. This is a troubled time for us all."

She winced inwardly. He had assumed she had been distracted by poor Danny Latimer's murder, when in reality it had been nothing more than a lurid fantasy about Detective Hardy. You ought to be ashamed of yourself, she thought, scolding herself gently. But the truth was, she hadn't been able to stop losing herself in daydreams like that since their conversation in her shop almost a week ago. He was completely exasperating and brought the word grouchy to a whole new level, and yet...there was just something about him. She sensed that despite his gruff exterior he was actually quite a sweetheart. For whatever reason he chose to hide that side of him, which was why most people in town didn't seem to care for him much, or try to see past the surface to learn more about him. It intrigued her, this mystery of Alec Hardy. She wondered what it would be like to get closer to him, to get to know him better. She stifled a sigh. And that's the biggest fantasy of all, she thought morosely. For a brief moment when they were together she had thought that they...but no. He had practically run from her the other night, making it quite clear that her feelings were not reciprocated. She had flirted with him openly which wasn't like her. She had only just met the man, and yet despite her logical self advising against it, she found she couldn't resist. She had been in town for a few years and had never flirted with any of the townspeople or tourists like that before. She had been asked out a few times, sure, but she had always gently turned them down. She wasn't sure why, exactly. Everyone in Broadchurch was very kind, and even if she wasn't looking for a relationship, there was nothing stopping her from having a fling if she so desired it. But she didn't. The other night in the bookstore was the first time she had let her guard down around a man in a long, long time. At least he had the good grace to refrain from embarrassing her about it. He could have been rude about not feeling the same way, god knows he didn't have a problem holding back from rudeness on any other occasion. She had to give him credit for that.

Paul gestured to the empty chair across from her. "May I sit down?" he asked.

She laid down the paperback she had been reading and smiled warmly. "Of course, Paul." She was immediately grateful for the company. Maybe it would help get her mind of Alec.

Her and Paul often crossed paths here at the Traders Hotel, expecially on Mondays. She liked to grab lunch and a drink in the afternoons since it was the only day of the week her store was closed. And he was friends with the proprietor, Becca Fisher, so he was there quite often as well, either having a bite to eat or to just work on his sermon for the following week. Even though she wasn't necessarily a religious person, she found his company pleasant, and enjoyed speaking with him. She pushed her plate towards him, offering him some of her chips. He shook his head and she pulled it back over, grabbing a chip and popping it in her mouth in the process.

"I heard you did right by Danny in your sermon yesterday," she said softly.

"Were you there?" he asked, sounding surprised.

She shook her head. "No, I wasn't," she admitted. "But a few people came in the store last evening and they told me about it."

He shrugged sadly. "It wasn't much, I feel so absolutely helpless. It was all I could do for his family outside of prayer. I just wish it was enough."

She knew how he felt. She had brought books to Beth the other day because that's all she could think to do. She wanted to help in whatever way she could, and books were what she knew. But books wouldn't bring Danny back. She reached over and patted his hand. "You did a great job, Paul."

"The sooner the police find out who did this and bring him to justice, the sooner the Latimer's can begin to heal." He looked up at her. "What do you think of the Detective in charge?" he asked suddenly.

"Erm," she said, not at all happy to be brought to the subject of Alex Hardy. "I think he's very...thorough," she said weakly.

"He came by to interview me the other day," Paul said, frowning slightly. "He was very... intimidating. I don't think he likes it here. Or maybe it was just me he didn't like."

"I think that's just his way," Rebecca replied, aware she was defending for Alec but finding herself quite unable to stop. "He wants to solve this case just as much as anyone does. And he'll stop at nothing to do so. I know he comes across kind of... harsh, but I really honestly think he has all the best intentions."

Paul didn't look convinced.

"He interviewed me too," she confessed.

"And how did it go?" Paul asked.

She thought of the intensity of his dark brown eyes. Eyes you could easily get lost in. Drown yourself in. She thought of the way he had laughed with her over their newly discovered mutual love of Dickens. The way he had stood so close to her at the end of their conversation, and how for an instant she was so certain he was going to kiss her. Before the shutters closed over his emotions and he practically ran from her. "It was...yeah, it was intense," she said. "But it was also..."

"Also...?" he prompted.

At that moment Becca came round to grab her empty glass. "Fancy another?" she asked cordially.

Rebecca nodded. "Yes, please, that would be great, thanks."

"Are you two talking about that new detective?" she asked.

Rebecca gritted her teeth. She didn't mind Becca, per se, she had always been friendly with her. But the last thing she wanted at the moment was to be stuck gossiping with her. Especially gossip pertaining to Alec.

Paul must have felt the same way. "We were just saying that we hope he and Ellie solve the case soon," he said, closing off the conversation.

But Becca wasn't done. She pulled up a chair and sat down with them. "I'll tell you what," she said conspiratorially, "it seems to me his head isn't completely focused on just the case, if you know what I mean."

"What are you talking about?" Rebecca asked.

"I stopped by his room two nights ago to make sure he was okay, you know, after he fell," she said.

It was the first Rebecca had heard of him falling, and she felt a rush of concern for him. She filed it away for later and nodded.

"Well," Becca continued, "so there I am, in his room, and before I knew it, he bloody propositioned me, that's what he did!"

Paul's eyes widened.

"Wait," Rebecca said, feeling her pulse spike in confusion and anger. But whether it was anger at Becca or Alex, she couldn't tell. "How do you mean, propositioned?"

Becca smiled smugly. "What do you think I mean? He wanted me to have sex with him!"

Paul crossed himself.

"Can you imagine?" Becca laughed. "I turned him down, of course. As if I would be interested in sleeping with ihim/i!"

Rebecca didn't answer. She had spent a lifetime schooling her emotions, yet she struggled to do so now. How dare Becca act so casual about it? She thought of the way her body immediately reacted when he was standing close to her. How could she be the only one that felt that way about him? And was it true? He was interested in Becca? Was that why he had been so anxious to get away from her the other night? She cast a glance towards the other woman; her blonde hair and tall, limber frame. Of course that would be the sort of woman he would want to be with. Her stomach clenched painfully. She herself was ordinary, plain. What had made her think in her wildest dreams that he would be interested in her? A small bubble of self righteous anger rose in her. No. Just because he didn't want to be with her didn't make her any less of a woman. He didn't like her? So what? She liked who she was. She had worked a long time learning to be comfortable in her own skin, and if he couldn't see that, well, it was his loss, not hers. She bit her lip. But still. It hurt a bit. She had thought they had made a connection. She was obviously mistaken.

"Are you alright?" Paul asked.

She buried her tumultuous feelings and smiled at them both. "Oh yes," she said. "I'm fine. Although, I think I won't take you up on that refill after all. If you could just bring me the check, that would be great."

...

She walked down Central Avenue, feeling slightly better with the breeze in her face tangling her hair. The sun on her bare arms made her shiver and she lifted her face to the sunshine, covering her eyes and smiling. It was hard for sadness to keep her in its clutches for very long, especially on such a beautiful day. She stopped by her flat to drop off her book and to pick up a package she had left on the corner of her counter. Locking up behind her, she made her way out of the building and further down the street until she reached Jack Marshall's newspaper store on the end of the lane. She smiled as she remembered how standoffish Jack had been when she had first set up her shop in town. As nice as she had been to him and as hard as she had tried to get him to open up to her, she just couldn't seem to make a connection with him. Eventually she figured out that he hadn't anything personally against her, but rather he was afraid her store would cause him to lose customers. So the next day she made him a batch of chocolate chip cookies and had sat down with him, making sure he knew that she was planning on selling books only, not magazines and newspapers, so he didn't need to be worried. Ever since then, he spoke very kindly to her whenever she saw him, and graced her with a rare smile. She clutched the package to her chest, knowing she was going to make his day. She had ordered a book for him as a surprise, and it had finally come in. He had mentioned it in passing a few weeks ago, and she had gone right home and put an order in for it.

The little chime on the door sounded as she walked in, passing by the racks of magazines and newspapers and the plethora of childrens beach toys as she moved toward the back of the store. She heard a low murmer of voices and assumed Jack was with a customer. But when she rounded the corner and heard a familiar Scottish accent she thought she felt her heart come to a dead halt before kickstarting into overdrive. She emited a small squeak of surprise before she could stop herself. There he was again. Alec Hardy.

"Rebecca," Jack called out as both men turned to face her. "What a pleasant surprise." He was beaming at her. Alec was scowling, but the expression didn't quite match his eyes, which almost seemed to light up when he saw her.

She couldn't help herself. She grinned at him, biting her lip shyly. "Hello, Detective Inspector. Jack. I hope this isn't a bad time?"

Jack shook his head. "Not at all, we were just finishing up here, wern't we, Detective?"

Alec flipped his notebook shut and slid it into his jacket pocket. "Just about, yes," he said.

She took a few steps closer, until she was facing Jack and only an arms length away from the detective. She did it as an experiment more than anything else. She was curious to know if how she felt the other night was just a fluke.

It wasn't.

Tension suddenly filled the room, making it stuffy despite the cool air blowing from the air conditioner. He was close enough to touch and she found herself unable to think of anything else. She longed to run her hands across his chest, to feel his arms tightly gripping her close to him. She was absolutely burning for him, and she had no idea why. What in the world was wrong with her? For God's sake, she thought, get a hold of yourself, girl! If she looked at him she knew she would be lost. She could feel the heat from Alec's glare as she kept her eyes on Jack and refused to look at him.

"This is for you," she said as she handed the package to Jack. "It's that book you mentioned a while back.

He unwrapped the hardcover book and looked back at her, his eyes shining. "You remembered I said that?"

"Of course I did!" she replied, laughing. "How could I forget something like that?"

"Is this what you do?" Alec interjected. "You bring books to people? Last week is was Beth Latmier now this week Jack Marshall?" He didn't sound condenscending, just mildly curious.

She finally turned to look at him. "Yes," she said simply.

Jack cleared his throat. "Well, I deeply appreciate it, my dear," he said. "Thank you for thinking of me."

She smiled one last time. "It's my pleasure, Jack. It was no trouble at all."

And with that she turned and left the store without a backward glance.

...

Alec watched her leave with a growing sense of frustration. He had so many things he wanted to say to her, and yet every time he saw her he ended up as tongue-tied as a high school boy. When she was standing there he could see the way she was blushing and it was all he could do to not take her in his arms right then and there.

He sighed.

"She has a good heart, that one," Jack murmmered.

"What's that?" Alec snapped.

"She has a good heart," he repeated, looking Alec in the eye. "That matters, you know. Having a good heart."

Alec didn't respond. His eyes were on the door. He was aware that some instinctive part of him was screaming for him to follow her. Why couldn't he just do what any other normal bloke would do and go after her? Because he was Alec bloody Hardy, that's why. His lips set in a firm line. He was not here to fraternize. He had a case to solve. And it wasn't going to get done with him mooning over some girl. He stood rooted there with indescision. She did have a good heart. A beatiful heart. Which matched everything else that was beautiful about her. Dammit, he cursed to himself.

"Well that's all I need for right now, Mr. Marshall," he said as he turned and hastily left the store. "I'll be in touch."

Jack watched him leave, shaking his head and smiling ruefully as he picked up a broom and began to clean the floor.

...

I did it, she thought as she walked briskly down the street. I managed to be near him and not make a total ass out of myself. Despite that small triumph she couldn't help but feel disappointed. She wasn't sure what she had been expecting, but it certainly wasn't this. Twice now he had failed to make a move. He had made it crystal clear that he wasn't interested in her. But it didn't matter. Soon enough they would solve the case and he would sweep out of Broadchurch the way he swept in. She closed her eyes for a moment before turning to look at the crashing waves down by the shoreline. The sight usually filled her with a sense of peace but today it did nothing to quell her confusion and sadness. Why did it matter to her if Alec Hardy stayed or left?

Hearing her name being called out, she turned in surprise to see Alec walking towards her swiftly. She barely had any time to react before he had caught up to her.

"Hello," she said, smiling at him.

"Hello," he replied, slightly out of breath.

A few more moments of silence stretched between them and Rebecca had no idea whether she should say something or wait for him to come out with whatever it was that made him follow her in the first place.

"Have dinner with me," he said suddenly.

"I...what?" she asked. Her head was spinning and she thought she might topple over. Had she heard him correctly?

"Would you like to have dinner? With me?" He cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Why?" she asked, mystified.

"Bloody hell," he said, rubbing his eyes. "Do I need to draw you a map?"

She laughed. "No, no, that's not what I mean. I just thought..."

"You just thought what, exactly?" he asked.

She could see the anxiety on his face as plain as day. And with a jolt she could tell how hard this was for him. This wasn't a man who did this often. Although, speaking of which...

"I thought maybe I wasn't your type," she said honestly. "I thought that maybe someone more like...Becca Fisher was would be who you were looking for."

He grimaced in embarresment. "Heard about that did you?"

She sighed. She felt very tired. "I like you Detective Hardy."

"You do?" his eyes widened.

"Yes, I do," she smiled shyly. "I like you very much."

"You do?" he said again, beginning to sound like a broken record.

Rebecca laughed. "Yes, I do. Is that so hard to believe?"

He looked pensive for a moment.

She shook her head. "That was supposed to be a retorical question, you know. Anyway, I like you alot, but I don't want to be some kind of rebound."

"Rebound? Because of Becca?" he laughed sharply. "You really have no idea, do you?"

She furrowed her brow in confusion.

He ran his hands through his hair in exasperation and sighed harshly. "I'm not interested in Ms. Fisher."

"Oh?" she said, pleased.

"And the only reason I even said anything to her in the first place was because I mistakenly thought that she would distract me from who I really wanted. That if I was with her I wouldn't be thinking of that other person as much as I have been."

"What other person?" she asked.

He stared at her.

She felt her face go red as heat spread to her neck. He couldn't mean...? Was this really happening? "You're kidding," she said, a smile growing on her face.

"Have dinner with me, Rebecca," he said.

It was the third time he asked, and she remembered how in fairytales that three was a magical number. "I'd love to," she said.

His face lit up with a smile and it was so bright and so full of relief that Rebecca was sure she was going to implode with happiness. "Where would you like to go?" she asked.

He shrugged. "You obviously know this town better than I do, pick a place. Your favorite place." He pointed a finger at her. "Just no chippie."

She laughed delightedly. "You do know that you're on the coast of England, right?"

He snorted. "As if I could forget. How's Friday, I'll be around to fetch you after you close shop?"

"That's perfect," she said. She couldn't seem to stop smiling. "Absolutely perfect."

~*~ To be continued