A/N: So this chapter took a bit longer. We got our family moved – note to others: don't move in the summer in Georgia. It was a hot and long process. It also took four days to get cable television and internet access, but I'm back up and running now.

Emma woke up before the sun on Wednesday morning, as she had the earlier shift, staring her day well before Granny's even opened. That meant stale station coffee instead of the richer blends that Granny stocked or even her weakness of a hot chocolate. Dragging herself through her morning routine, she was on autopilot as she showered, ate some toast, and brushed her teeth before applying a little mascara and a bit of color to her cheeks. She was in her zone so far that she practically fell back into the tub when she heard the familiar alert that she had a text message. If it had been Ruby needing a ride home or bragging about some guy she met, Emma might have strangled her. However, Ruby's life and neck were safe when Emma ran her thumb over the screen.

Killian: Good morning. You said you had an early day so I thought I'd try to put a smile on your face.

Emma grinned despite the early hour and her desire to go back to bed. However, she was not about to let him know that his gesture might have had any effect on her. She didn't want him thinking too highly of himself. Rolling her eyes, she sat on the edge of her bed and tried to imagine what sort of man got up early just to text a woman he had known less than a week.

Emma: It would probably take more than a text given the early hour, but good morning to you too.

Killian: You're not a morning person. I had you pegged as one.

Emma: I've never been accused of being one. More of a night owl.

Killian: I will file that bit of information away for future reference. I'm not much of a morning person myself, but once I get going I push past it.

Emma felt a strange sense of relief that his early morning was not just because she had vaguely mentioned her early shift. She wasn't denying that she found him attractive or that he was an interesting person to be around. Quite the contrary. She was drawn to him, despite her hesitation to become involved with anyone. He was earnest and determined, but she was not easily fooled. Neal had seemed that way too. He had seemed so charismatic and steadfast, but she had learned from him and others that disappointment followed such belief in people.

Emma: And what has you up so early?

Killian: A fishing vessel with a navigation issue. I have agreed to go out with the crew and see it in action.

Emma: Sounds thrilling, but you might get a chance to enjoy the sunrise.

Killian: It will surely be lovely, but I doubt I can fully appreciate it with a group of gruff fishermen rather than a beautiful woman such as yourself.

Emma: I don't fall for flattery.

Killian: Just another note for my Emma file. I hope you have a wonderful day, Swan.

She rolled her eyes again, trying not to picture the way he would shift his weight or clamp his eyes shut momentarily when she dealt him a blow of rejection. That was a hard thing to do, she admitted only to herself. She could reject guys with the best of them, but for some reason it was Killian's hurt expression – no matter how brief – or the way he almost seemed to tense before asking her something that made her too aware of him. She didn't picture the guys who she flat out rejected. Not once had she thought about their feelings or how they had reacted afterward. However, with Killian she could see him even when he wasn't there.

***AAA***

When Killian saw the patrol car outside of Granny's that morning, he was hopeful that Emma had managed to sneak away for a bit of coffee like she had complained about before. He was tempted to buy her a cup and deliver it, but he didn't want to have another run in with the front desk clerk. He also did not want to seem overbearing or too eager. So he turned his hope back to the possibility that Emma might be inside and he would get to see her.

However, one look around the crowded diner produced no view of the blonde woman. Instead, Killian recognized David sitting at the counter with a hand on a paper cup of coffee and his eyes scanning the headlines of the daily newspaper. The man was obviously waiting on an order and paying no attention to the patrons who were filing in for sustenance before the workday. Killian had already put in a few hours on the wayward fishing boat, offering a few technical suggestions and product enhancements that would remedy the situations.

Sliding past a sneezing pharmacist, Killian placed his order and stood as unobtrusively as possible in wait for it. He nodded to a few people, but knew none of them well enough to say more than a hello or good morning. His crowd of friends were more than likely still in bed or already at work.

"Killian, right?" a voice said that Killian realized was that of David. "Emma's friend?"

"Aye," Killian said, his voice showing the surprise he felt that David would recognize him after such a brief introduction. The man met with dozens of people each day. "That would be me."

"You here for breakfast?" David asked then grimaced at the awkwardness. "I guess that sounds dumb. Why else would you be here?" He held up his own paper cup of coffee to take a swig only to be disappointed that the cup was empty.

"It does appear to be the obvious choice," Killian answered, holding up his own cup of coffee. "I was in need of caffeine myself." He looked over the sheriff's shoulder as a blonde woman entered the diner, but quickly let his gaze drop when he saw it was Ashley rather than Emma. The quick look did not escape David's attention.

David nodded, gesturing for a refill from the waitress. "Emma's working with the district attorney today to get her testimony prepared for a trial she's got coming up," he explained. "I am sure she told you about that?"

Killian was not fully aware of Emma's work, but he knew enough. She had mentioned such things briefly and told him that sometimes she felt that her whole identity was becoming wrapped up in her career rather than her actual abilities as a person. He had agreed he felt the same way sometimes. "She works awfully hard.

David smiled in a proud sort of way that seemed odd at first. "She does, but it seems to be something she loves. Hell, I was the same way when I first started in the department. I wanted every case. I wanted to save the world." He accepted the new cup of coffee and swallowed the first sip hard before adding a packet of sugar and a tiny bit of half and half. "That's why it's good that she's getting out more now. You know with her friends."

Killian wasn't quite sure where the conversation was going. "Aye, that's important for anyone. I met Emma's friend, Ruby. She seems like a fun lass for Emma to have as a friend." He knew that the other member of the trio of friends was David's girlfriend, but he wasn't sure how to bring her into a conversation when he had not yet met her.

David laughed, leaning forward a bit as though he was about to tell a secret. "Ruby's one of a kind. She's a drama queen for sure, but she's a sweetheart underneath it all. Mary Margaret has thought of her as a sister since they were kids."

"Best kind of friends to have," Killian said, hoping that would be an appropriate response.

Sighing and trying another sip of coffee, David nodded to one of the city council members and clamped his other arm down on the folded newspaper. "So I mentioned to Emma that maybe you two would care to have dinner or something with me and Mary Margaret. I know that probably sounds like a stressful thing given that nobody ever wants to meet the family and we're as close to family as she has in her life."

"I think that sounds like a fantastic idea," Killian said, nodding his head in what he hoped was an enthusiastic fashion. "I'll ask her when would be good? Or…"

David laughed. "I think we both know that she's probably going to figure out an excuse to get out of it, but maybe we can all work on her. You do your thing. I'll strong arm her and Mary Margaret can try that guilt thing on her."

***AAA***

Mary Margaret was like a child on Christmas when Emma stopped by on Wednesday after classes were over and all the children had gone home for the day. "Really?" the woman squealed her pixie cut hair bouncing as she threw herself into Emma's arms for a hug. "You want me to go shopping with you?"

Emma's eyes fluttered shut as she resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the overly enthusiastic reaction to news that she needed help. She had reluctantly admitted that she needed something new to wear Friday night, as her closet was a bit lacking on such outfits. She had plenty of jeans and sweaters. She had more than a few slinky little dresses for when Ruby insisted that they were going out to meet men. However, none of that seemed right when her date wanted to woo her – whatever that meant.

"You didn't go to Ruby?" Mary Margaret asked, her voice settling as she realized she might not be Emma's first choice for a shopping partner. "She's better at fashion questions than I am."

Emma gave the teacher a crooked grin. "I don't quite want to go the Ruby route here," she said. "She looks great, but it's not really my style for the evening." She blushed a little as she thought of the latest outfit their friend had worn. Emma wasn't sure that she could pull that off without breaking her neck in the shoes or dying of embarrassment when a wardrobe malfunction inevitably happened.

"And you wanted to be more my style?" Mary Margaret asked, looking down at her own floral patterned dress and three quarter length sleeved cardigan.

"I was thinking somewhere between teacher chic, deputy comfortable, and Ruby."

"This might take some thinking," Mary Margaret said, bending down to lift her purse out of her desk drawer. "We should start now. It might take a while and will definitely require some wine after we finish to debrief."

"I wouldn't expect anything less." Emma followed the teacher out the door and wondered if this was such a good idea. She didn't get enthusiastic about things, especially dates. So buying a new outfit or tearing apart her closet was a bit of a reach for her. She even was considering if her undergarments should match or if she should find something special. If she could, she would grab her own shoulders and shake some sense into herself.

Mary Margaret peppered the deputy with questions on the short drive to their favorite shopping area. Where was he taking her? What shade of blue were his eyes? Had he been married, engaged, or seriously committed before? Where did she see this going? Emma quickly learned that if she hesitated enough on the answers to those questions, she got a reprieve in the form of a new question.

"David said he came by for lunch," Mary Margaret said in a way that begged for details.

"David could do to quit gossiping about my social life," Emma said almost sullenly. "But yes. We had lunch. No big deal."

"Emma, I know you are desperate to tell the world that you are free and independent," Mary Margaret said carefully, her hand hovering near the door handle as though she realized she might have to jump out to save her life. "But it's okay to like a guy or even to admit that you might want someone in your life. You don't have to be alone to be independent."

"It's just a plan to go dancing," Emma protested.

"You can call it whatever you want, but it is a date. A date with a guy who obviously wants to be with you. A guy who according to David and Ruby looks at you like you are a glass of water and he's stuck in the desert." The teacher shifted her jaw a bit. "Can't you just take a chance? Emma, he's just a guy. He likes you. You seem to like him. Isn't that..."

Emma's hands gripped the steering wheel tighter, her knuckles becoming white with the force of her grip. "You know I'm not looking for something like that. I don't want a boyfriend. I don't even really want to date or be in a relationship. It's too much to think about. I would rather just go home and have some Chinese Take Out or a pizza."

Mary Margaret's lips thinned into a line. "Sometimes these things do happen when you're not looking or trying. I think sometimes that is why Ruby doesn't settle down. She's jumping from one guy to another and she doesn't take the time to get to know them. You are at least getting to know Killian. That's actually really brave of you." She was obviously trying the technique she had found worked in the past. If you complimented Emma she did not know how to respond and it usually shut down her protests for a minute.

Emma rolled her eyes and hit the brakes on the car a bit hard as another vehicle pulled out in front of them. Swearing under her breath, Emma resisted the urge to flip off the other driver. "Did it occur to you that I am just interested in hooking up with him?"

"Then you would have already," Mary Margaret answered easily. "I'm just saying I'm happy that you seem to be at least taking a step in the right direction."

***AAA***

On Thursday morning Emma heard Robin's snicker as she tried to covertly look at her phone as they waited for one of the witnesses to return from the restroom. While she was not one who came into the workplace with idle gossip and chatter about her private life, she knew that Robin and David were great friends. They spent hours watching different games on television and even took a few camping trips with Robin's son Roland. Obviously David had told Robin something about her seeing someone.

"First text today?" he asked, rubbing the apple he had brought with him against the denim of his jeans. He watched Emma blush at the attention. She sank lower into the seat at the metal table, flashing him a look that she was not going to entertain his teasing. "I guess you don't want to talk about it."

"I haven't asked about your text messages," she challenged. "You've gotten three since we got back from lunch."

"From the babysitter informing me about Roland," he countered. "I don't think yours are the same."

She shoved the phone back in her pocket. "This," she said gesturing around the generically maroon and black conference room, "is what I hate about Storybrooke."

"The government facilities?" Robin asked, sounding genuinely confused.

"The fact," she said, pausing for dramatic effect, "that there are no secrets. Do you know that I changed the color of my nail polish during my pedicure recently? I went with pearly pink instead of stop sign red."

Robin shrugged his shoulders lackadaisically. His teeth crunched into the apple. "I don't really care all that much about your dating life, Emma. I was simply making conversation. Is it a crime that the guys and I want you to be happy?"

She huffed indignantly. "You probably hope that I'll be more of a pushover. If I'm happy I'll give less of a crap about changing shifts or letting you guys get the good cases."

"You do realize it's not all about that?" he asked, taking another bite and speaking between pieces of the apple. "Maybe like 60%."

Emma groaned, throwing back her head as if the skies might open up and save her. "He's just a guy. I'm not sure what the hell all of you people think is going to happen here. We've been out to dinner and hung out in a bar. It's not like I'm planning a wedding over here. I realize some women are like that, but I'm not. You people act like you've never met me before."

Robin looked amused, his loud crunching filling the room and echoing off the generically painted walls. "I was just hoping you would be in a better mood."

Graham stuck his head in the barely cracked doorway, finding Emma pinching the bridge of her nose and Robin biting back a smile. "Were you two waiting on Mr. Scarlett for the interview?"

"Yes," Emma said, grateful for the interruption of work. "He should be back any moment."

There was a nervous tittering laugh from Graham. "He walked out of the station about three minutes ago. I don't think he wants to talk."

"Bloody hell," Robin said, pushing back from the table that rocked with the force of his shove. "He's our only witness on this case."

***AAA***

William Smee dropped the newly revised sales contract on Killian's desk and waited expectantly as the assistant sales manager skimmed over his phone before turning his attention to the shorter and slightly overweight man before him. "Is this the newest version," Killian asked, scanning the cover sheet. "I promised I would return it to them this afternoon."

"Yes," the man answered, shifting a bit uncomfortably. "I asked Eric's assistant for a bit advice on the payment arrangements. It is unorthodox, but that's what you requested."

Smee had been the sales department assistant for longer than the majority of the associates. While Killian had asked him why he stayed in the more administrative position rather than trying his hands at commissioned sales, Smee had said he had no aptitude for it and preferred a more supportive role. Still, he knew more about maritime laws and contracts than most of the lawyers or the junior staff by a mile. Men and women like Killian would make the deals, woo the customers, and close the deals, but it was Smee who made the contracts palatable to both parties and worked out the details.

"Sounds like just what the company needs," Killian said with an approving smile. "Good job, mate." He appreciated Smee's work more than most of his counterparts, but still he found the man hard to get to know. Killian had on more than one occasion asked if the man wanted to grab lunch together or inquired as to his weekend plans as co-workers often do. However, Smee never offered more than a cursory answer that was either vague or a bit gruff. Killian looked up and noticed him hovering, a clear sign that he wanted to say something else. "Is there some bit of news I need to know?"

"There was a matter that will probably hit your desk this afternoon," Smee said, offering a bit of a shrug. "I took a call from Mr. Nolan that his son, David, would be running for office again."

Killian leaned back in his leather chair, his hand just at his jaw. "Yes, I heard something about that?"

"Well, the campaign is looking for a place to have a fundraiser. I told the man that we didn't deal in those types of pleasure boats, but he was pretty insistent. Perhaps you could talk to him about that when he calls regarding another idea."

Killian frowned a bit. "I thought nobody was running against the sheriff," he said, his expression deepening. "I guess it doesn't matter though. What about the other idea?"

Smee ran a hand over his hair, smoothing it down in the process. "I believe he said something about Sheriff Nolan considering enhancing the water search and rescue team for Storybrooke They will need new equipment."

"Now that, my man, is something we can easily handle. I'm going to do a little research. I'll e-mail you the details and perhaps we can have a draft of the proposal ready by the beginning of next week. I'd like to get a jump on the potential competition."

Smee might have said something else but the light chirp and vibration of his phone drew his attention. There was Emma's name on his phone and that familiar sinking and elated feeling at the same time. He loved hearing from her – even if it was just a few words typed onto a phone – but he also dreaded each message as though it might be that message that ended everything.

He wasn't even sure what if anything he could call the relationship he had with Emma right now. It seemed so fragile and tenuous as she understandably battled demons that he wasn't sure he could overcome himself. He knew she was hesitant and he didn't want to overstep, but he felt like there was something there between them, something that different than anything he had felt before. It was early, but he wanted so desperately to explore it and understand what he was feeling. Most of all he wanted to know if she was feeling it too.

He closed his eyes in a silent hope that she wasn't texting to say that she had changed her mind about Friday. He was already mentally creating an itinerary and may or may not have spent more than an hour looking at late night places to take her after their date.

Emma: So I'm thinking to grab a drink after a crappy day at work.

Killian: That bad of a day, love?

Emma: It has sucked. I am in need of adult beverages and drinking in a bar is preferable to drinking alone.

Killian: Is this an invitation or just your idea of keeping me updated on your whereabouts?

He watched as the three little dots indicated that she was writing back immediately. Perhaps she was not quite so reserved as he was beginning to fear.

Emma: Just wanted to know if I was going to run into you. I don't know your schedule or habits yet.

He smiled widely, recognizing that self-preservation of not actually inviting someone but saying that she would maybe run into them was preferable to the possibility of rejection. He'd used it before himself.

Killian: It's been a rough day here too. Perhaps a drink would do me some good.

A few rapid texts were exchanged before he returned to his work, his mind already imagining her sitting at that bar where he had met her. There was something about a plan to see her that made the rest of his day go much more quickly.

***AAA***

Killian had to knock twice before he heard Emma's footsteps and her voice on the other side of the door Friday night, eliminating his fears that she had run away or decided to hide from him instead of their agreeing to their third date. He had to admit that she was a challenge, as she fought him every step of the way, but he enjoyed a challenge.

She swung the door to her apartment open wide and smiled as his jaw dropped a bit at the sight of her. The dress she wore was a bright red that swooped down at the neck to reveal a hint of cleavage and hit just above her knees. It was made from a light fabric that swirled about her as she moved and clung in just the right spots. Her hair fell down her back and over her shoulders in loose waves and her long legs were made even longer with a silvery pair of heels.

"Emma," he said, glad that he could remember her name. "You look stunning."

She smiled, brushing her hand down her own hip. "Thanks," she said, looking up at him through her lashes. "You don't look to bad yourself."

He did a small spin as though modeling and laughed. "I'll look even better tonight with you on my arm, love." He was wearing a tight pair of black pants with a black textured shirt that seemed to be buttoned one button lower than necessary. She could see the silver chain around his neck that nestled into the chest hair peeking out from the v of his shirt.

"You did say dancing?" she asked, grabbing her keys and her clutch. "Just wanted to make sure."

"Aye, dancing is on the agenda," he commented, reminding himself to blink as she locked the deadbolt on her apartment door. "Unless you would rather…"

She spun back around to him, the soft material floating around her. "I think dancing is fine," she said as though he had suggested something horribly boring in return.

He led her out to his jeep, opening the door for her and stealing another glance. She had looked beautiful at the Rabbit Hole the night before, but now she looked even more so. Her eyes sparkling as she loosened up a bit and told him funny stories of her law enforcement experience. She had prodded him for information about himself and seemed to actually enjoy it when he gave her a few of his own tales. He had made a silent promise to himself to make her smile more often, as the look was one that he was starting to crave.

They had sat in one of the booths at the bar the night before, their shoulders brushing as they laughed and chatted well past their first drink. Lingering over another, he had lost his willpower and brushed back a bit of her hair over her ear, letting his hand linger and his fingertips graze her cheek and jaw. To his surprise and delight, she had not pulled away but leaned into the touch. No, it wasn't a grand gesture but he had appreciated it just the same. That movement toward him instead of away meant more than even the fiery kisses that again took place at their parting. Not that he would have denied the impact of those on him either.

"I didn't think you would be the type for clubbing, loud music, and dancing," Emma said from the passenger seat, knocking him out of his memories of the night before. "You strike me more as a low key type."

"Perhaps I am a bit more complex than just one thing," he responded. "Anyway, it seemed an honest way to get to hold you in my arms. Unless you plan on dancing with all the other blokes there." There was a teasing in his voice, but it was a bit vulnerable too as if he wanted her to deny the doubts.

She looked out the window at the lights of the city they had just entered, the colors reflecting brightly. "I'm not going out with one guy in hopes of leaving with another," she said, offering her best reassurance.

It wasn't like the clubs of her early 20s or the places where Ruby would drag her with the promise of cheap drinks and music that thumped in her ears well after they were gone. There was actual room on the dance floor and couples were intimately embraced as the music swelled and filled the air. The lighting was low, but there were few flashing lights that gave her a headache. When he gave her a questioning look that was what she tried to convey – that he had once again exceeded her expectations for the evening.

At first it was not much more different for them than their shared drinks at the Rabbit Hole. He insisted on buying her the house special that looked more like glowing windshield wiper fluid. She wrinkled her nose at it and giggled that it tasted like blueberries only stronger. They watched the other couples dancing, each sipping on their drinks – a soda for him and her blue concoction. His free hand found hers, not exactly holding it, but glancing off her fingers. She smiled at him as he hummed and then sang along with a few of the lyrics.

"Maybe it's the alcohol in this thing but you're pretty good at singing," she said, leaning in a little closer to him. His chuckle and quick question if she wanted another drink told her that he was not good at taking a compliment either.

"I thought we were here to dance," she said, her eyes prying away from his and looking back to the dance floor. He smiled, pushing aside his now empty glass and threading his fingers with hers.

"As the lady insists," he said, guiding through the growing crowd to a piece of real estate on the fringes of the shadows. His steps were not as clumsy or basic as she might have thought as hips swayed and they quickly fell into a matching rhythm. His hand stayed linked with hers and he tugged her closer as they moved together to the beat.

They danced for several songs in a row, fast and slow. Their hands and bodies touched incidentally or with more purpose as the music and atmosphere swept them up in the course of things. After another drink and rest, they were back on the floor her arms loosely draped over his shoulders as the music droned in a subtle tone. One of his arms was about her waist, a hand settling at the small of her back and his other tracing lines with his fingertips along her upper back and shoulder. Their foreheads touched and he marveled in the way her eyes fluttered shut as she drew in a breath.

"You are so beautiful," he said, his voice deep and melodic though shaking a bit his own uncertainty. "So lovely." His next words got lost on her skin as his mouth moved down her face to her neck, trailing soft kisses along the bare skin there.

Her eyes snapped open and her head reared backward at his words. "Don't," she said softly and then repeated it again more firmly. "I'm not…"

"I can't tell you that I find you to be so lovely that you take my breath away, love?" he asked, frowning as she cringed. "I don't mean it in a bad way, only that I am in a bit of disbelief that such a striking angel would allow me to hold her."

Her breath seemed unsteady as she tried to answer his quizzical eyes with her own. "I don't want this," she said, her words coming out vaguer than she meant. "I don't want to like you."

He smiled almost sympathetically. "I fear it is too late for me to make such a declaration," he said, still holding her to him as if not to allow her to run. It was not a tight enough grip, as she pulled away and moved past the other dancing couples to the door. He blinked twice before he ran after her, feeling foolish that he had in some way insulted or scared her.

She was easy enough to find, her back leaning against his car and her arms folded across her chest. "I'm sorry," he said, an apology seeming to fit the situation.

"You don't have to be," she returned. "I'm the one who can't even manage to take a compliment." She looked up at him and then back toward the lights of the building they had just left. "I should apologize. You didn't do anything wrong. It was great in there. I was having fun."

His tongue peeked out of the corner of his mouth as he watched her fumble for the right words. "And I ruined it," he countered. "You don't want this sort of thing. You have made that clear. You just wanted a drink. I've been pushing to make that one time thing into something more. I repeat my apologies, love. I should take you home."

She sighed audibly, not discrediting his observation. "You do know I'm trying, right?" she asked as he made a move toward the passenger door to open it. "I've…I've been having fun with you. I like spending time with you."

He paused, his hand still reaching toward the door but afraid to move much more in fear of stopping her confession. "And I with you," he said, holding his breath as her arms unfolded.

"I don't want to ruin that," she admitted. Her eyes closed again, tighter this time to block out the voices and the intrusions. "I do that all the time. I ruin everything good in my life because I'm too busy trying to figure out what is wrong with it. I turn over every coin looking for the flaws."

His extended arm lowered slowly. "And so you're looking for the flaws in me?"

She only nodded, the breeze that had cooled them upon exiting the club now blowing back her hair.

"I'm not perfect, love," he said as if he was revealing some huge secret. "And as lovely and brilliant as you are, lass, you aren't either. I think we can know that without it ruining anything." She had not moved from her spot against the front of the jeep, but her eyes followed him as he pulled open the door and grabbed his jacket. With slow and deliberate steps, he placed it over her shoulders. "You looked cold."

She thanked him. "This isn't really a place for this conversation," she said gripping his jacket over her like a cape. "I could at least show you what a mess I am in some place that is climate controlled."

His grin was familiar as looked down through his own long eyelashes at her. "How do you feel about pancakes?" he asked. Smirking wider as she looked utterly confused. "As food, darling? I'm not asking for your philosophical point of view on them."

"I like them," she said hesitantly. "Who doesn't?"

He nodded in agreement of her assessment. "I know a place near here with a 24-hour breakfast that will have you singing the praises of syrup. I think there must be 80 different varieties there." He pointed his chin toward the jeep's passenger door. "Shall we?"

It was her turn to nod as she took his hand to help her inside. She breathed in as deep as she could, watching him jog around to his own seat to join her.

***AAA***

Killian was right. The pancake house was not short on varieties. "It's a bit like picking a wine to go with dinner," she mused as he watched her with his hands folded on his own closed menu. "Any suggestions?"

He ordered a fruit laden trio with whipped cream and powdered sugar, joking that he would have to do a few extra miles and reps at the gym to make up for it. She settled for a French toast dish with cinnamon sugar and apples. "I'm afraid the sugar and whatnot negate the benefits of the fruit."

"I don't believe many people come to a pancake house for their nutritional benefits." She settled her hands on the warmth of the mug of cocoa that the waitress had just delivered. He had laughed in amusement at her excitement over being able to obtain it instead of coffee.

"Aye, you are right, love," he said, sipping on his own cup of coffee. "I think it is more of a place to ward off a hangover."

She dipped her finger along the whipped cream that topped her drink, taking with her digit the chocolate and cinnamon shavings. Her eyes closed briefly as she tasted it and then shot back open to find him staring back at her. "So I guess you see that I'm not perfect either. I have horrible table manners."

"A flaw I can overlook if it comes down to it," he laughed. "Emma, I hope you know that I never have tried to look upon you with unrealistic expectations."

"I know," she said, rolling her lips over her teeth. "I should explain what I meant. I know neither of us is perfect. Nobody truly is. I do like you, Killian. I am attracted to you. I guess that should be obvious. I had pushed away guys at the Rabbit Hole last weekend, but I didn't push you away. I talked to you even before Ruby showed up."

He nodded, holding the mug of coffee just centimeters before his lips as though he was contemplating another sip.

"The attraction isn't the problem, Killian." She sighed again. "You've not done anything wrong."

"But you don't think this will work?" His voice was tinged with disappointment, but he smiled knowingly and nodded his head. "I had hoped that…"

"I didn't say that," she interrupted.

"Emma, I'm afraid I don't understand." He lowered the mug down to the table where it clattered against the cheap material.

She cradled and then uncradled the mug in front of her, her eyes focusing on the dollop that floated in the darkness of the chocolate. "I don't know how this goes," she admitted. "It's sad, but I don't know how to like anyone where it is more than just sex and empty promises to call again sometime. I don't call back. I don't text with guys during a break or before I go to bed. I don't hear a song on the radio and start daydreaming about a guy." She saw the smile on his face at that and lowered her eyes even more. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do here. I never do it."

"I'm not sure there are any hard and fast rules about it," Killian said. "To be honest, I'm not sure I'd know them if there were."

She considered that for a moment. "I just feel like I'm fighting against you and then losing the battle. "Then I fight again. It must be exhausting for you to never know if I'm going to be nice Emma and flirt with you or regular Emma and bite back at you for daring to want to spend time with me." Her eyes lifted, half expecting to see him running for the door.

"You do present a bit of a challenge to me, love, but it has hardly dissuaded me. I just seem to appreciate the moments you allow all the more." He grew silent as the waitress appeared to assure them their orders would be right up. "Emma, I wouldn't have asked you out again if I wasn't interested in getting to know you. And getting to know you means more than just the sweet side that you let out when you aren't guarding yourself."

"That side is only part of me," she said, sinking the last bit of the whipped cream with her spoon and stirring furiously. "It's not the real me. I'm more broken than that." She sighed at her own words. There was always that knowledge inside her, but she did not like to admit it. She hated that the people in her life had broken her and left her that way. She hated admitting they had that power and ability.

"We're all broken," he whispered. "Some of us are in more pieces than each other. So knowing that you are broken is no big surprise to me. Maybe someday we can compare cracks and scars to see if we have any in common."

Review? Thank you to those who have written their thoughts and ideas. I really do get excited with each notification.