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My eyes squeezed closed at the sound of his voice, the deep, beautiful rumble of it in my ear Just that one word made my cheeks flush and my heart pound

“Hello?” he repeated

“Michael?”

He hesitated a second “Dahlia?”

I stared up the street toward the ocean feeling stupid for calling him Of course, he hadn’t taken a job in Hartwell Noould think I was nuts!

“Did you call for a reason?” His question was broken by the histling through our connection, but I caught the gist

“What are you doing right now?” I blurted out

He gave a huff of laughter like he couldn’t believe I’d called him to randomly ask him what he was do

ing And I didn’t blame him for his disbelief “I’m about to start work”

“I thought you were on night shift” That suspicion crept in again “Where are you about to start work?”

He was quiet, and then I heard, clear as day, not through the phone, but from behind me, “Hartwell”

The breath expelled from my body, and for a moment I froze, afraid to turn around I could feel hinets ere, I was forced to move, to turn, to face him

He was as beautiful as I remembered

The only difference was his unshaven face, his hair was slightly longer, and he wore a warmer coat than the one he’d worn in Boston He kept it open, however, with a black scarf wrapped around his neck I could see the police badge clipped to the belt threaded through his dark jeans

Oh my God