As Charlie stood and moved to the door, he could feel the sheriff’s stare boring holes into him. Why did it feel like he’d been caught with the man’s daughter? He stopped by his desk and grabbed her memory card. His heart thumped in his chest. Whether it was because of the troubled look on the sheriff’s face or because Lane was waiting for him, he wasn’t sure.

In the front of the station, he found Lane chatting with Deputy Benningfield. Lane’s long hair was pulled into a ponytail, revealing the delicate features of her face. Their eyes met and she smiled, a small one, but it was powerful enough to send his pulse thrumming.

“Lane just made herself the best friend of every officer in the station.” Deputy Benningfield’s eyes sparkled as she looked in Charlie’s direction, giving him a wink before heading back to her desk.

“I just brought in some cookies. And these.” Lane picked up a tray of drinks and brought them to the counter. “To make up for the ones I spilled the other day.” She bit her lip as she glanced down at his uniform. “And I’d still like to pay for your dry cleaning.”

“The coffee and cinnamon rolls more than made up for the drinks. And I learned a long time ago how to get stains out of my clothing.”

Her dark lashes fluttered. “That’s a good skill to have.”

“A virtue instilled in me during basic training.” And a father who required order down to the folds of his underwear.

Her face shifted. Pain pinched the edges of her eyes. “You were in the military?”

“Yes. Marines.”

Lane seemed to consider his answer before speaking. “I don’t want to keep you—”

“Wait.” Charlie looked down at the memory card in his hand. “We’re done with this.”

“Oh, thanks.” Lane took the card from him and put it in her pocket. “Did it help?”

“We’re looking through the photos. You’re good. I mean, the pictures. They’re really good.”

“Thank you.” A pink hue colored her cheeks. “I should go.”

“Um, right. I’ll, uh, just walk you out.” Charlie came around the counter. What was he doing? He could already feel the stares piercing his back—not enough body armor to defend him from the teasing that would assault him when he returned to his desk. He didn’t care. He held the glass door open for her. “Dinner.” He blurted the word out like he’d just learned how to talk.

“What?”

Charlie let the glass door close behind them, giving them a little privacy. “Would you like to have dinner with me sometime?”

Lane swallowed. Her gaze fell to her hand, the one with the golden reminder on it. Charlie’s heart sank.

“Maybe.”

Her voice was so quiet that he thought he had misheard her. “Maybe?”