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Chapter Text

Emma glared at the battered radio that was perched precariously on top of the equally well-used filing cabinet that was crammed in the corner of the tiny office she and David shared. The ancient speakers were emitting a tinny rendition of “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas,” and Emma found herself overcome with the urge to hurl the damn contraption out the window.

It’s only early November, for crying out loud, she thought to herself as she continued to scowl at the source of the offending tune.

“Whoa, isn’t it a little bit early in the season for you to be whipping out your Grinch impression?” David’s amused voice broke through her reverie and she turned to see her brother entering the office and shrugging off his jacket.

“It was just Halloween, like, yesterday. It’s far too early to be playing Christmas music!” she exclaimed, gesturing emphatically at the radio. Wheeling on David, who was in the process of hanging his coat on one of the hooks by the door, she narrowed her eyes. “And what exactly do you mean by ‘Grinch impression’?”

Unfazed, he crossed his arms and turned to face her. “Perhaps you’d prefer a comparison to Grumpy Cat?” he asked. He twisted the corners of his mouth down and furrowed his brow in what she assumed was an imitation of her earlier expression – but could only hold it for a moment before his grin returned and he chuckled. “Besides, Halloween was a whole four days ago, actually.”

She shook her head in fond exasperation. “Kinda proving my point there,” she murmured, but she could already feel her initial irritation fading. “It’s just…they’ve got almost two months to go, and it’s like everyone’s just universally decided to skip over Thanksgiving or something. I just don’t get it.”

“It’s never too early to get into the spirit of the season, I guess,” he replied, moving to the office’s kitchenette to grab himself a cup of coffee. “Or to prime people for holiday shopping,” he continued, “though that’s definitely a more cynical way to look at it.”

“Mm,” she shrugged noncommittally. “Anyway, it’s too early for me.” She reached up and switched the radio off before changing the subject. “What’s on tap for you today?”

David moved over to his desk, sitting and beginning to shuffle through the stacks of papers strewn across its surface. “Have a new client coming in in about half an hour, then another later this morning. Have a couple of ongoings that I’ve got to do a bit of following up on, and I’ve got to check in with Graham at the precinct after lunch about some paperwork from last week’s cases. You?”

Emma picked up the case file on top of her desk and showed it to David, “Felix Sykes. Didn’t make his court date. Again. So it looks like I’ll be staking out some of his favorite places for the next little while at least.”

David sighed. “He never learns, does he?”

“Nope,” Emma agreed dryly. “He doesn’t even change his habits all that much. I’m sure I’ll find him at one of his regular spots. It’s ridiculous.”

“He liked to hang out on Newbury, didn’t he? Or you could try the Common, maybe? The Emerson side…over near the bandstand?” David suggested. His voice was casual, but when Emma looked up at him, she thought she saw a flicker of mischief dancing in his eyes before he could fully hide it.

He can’t know. He can’t. Her mind screamed at her. But he clearly suspects something’s up…tread carefully here, Emma.

Arching her eyebrow and shooting a cool, and hopefully composed, look in his direction, she nodded and aimed for nonchalance in her brief reply. “Maybe, yeah. Anyway,” she said, changing gears. “I’ll spend a bit of time in the field today tracking him, then I have a late afternoon class.”

She decided to seize the moment and get out of the office. Grabbing her jacket and scooping up the case file from her desk, she juggled them around so that she could sketch a brief wave at David as she headed for the door. “Hope it goes well with the new clients – let me know if there are any really interesting cases, okay?”

David nodded absently. He was already half-engrossed in one of the files in front of him, but he looked up as she spoke. “Will do. And be careful out there,” he admonished her.

She rolled her eyes, but internally was touched, as she always was, by his concern. “Yes, Dad,” she teased, and with that she slipped out, his humph echoing behind her into the hall.

Chapter Text

Emma had a secret guilty pleasure.

So sue her.

It wasn’t something she did very often – the irregularities of her schedule made that impossible – but whenever she could get the chance to indulge herself, she took it.

She kept them to herself, these stolen moments when she could find a spot on one of the many benches lining the Common near the Emerson campus and listen to him play. Tall and lean, his acoustic guitar was always slung over his (usually Henley or flannel-covered) chest with a carless air, but his playing was anything but careless. His long, slender fingers always moved so nimbly over the instrument’s strings that Emma swore the sound they produced was magical – and she wasn’t usually prone to that kind of fantastical exaggeration.

She enjoyed watching him surreptitiously while he played, guitar case open at his feet for the generously-inclined passersby, eyes often closed as he lost himself in whatever song he was singing. There was no denying that he was good-looking – all dark hair and scruff, not to mention the piercing blue eyes. But she often thought that the most captivating thing about him might just be the passionate intensity he brought to his playing.

And he was good. Really, really good.

(He also seemed to have a sixth sense for artists she really liked – often covering several of her favorite songs).

She’d discovered him earlier in the fall when she’d had some downtime between her last class of the day at BU and checking back in with David at the office. She’d taken her coffee and a novel she’d been reading and decided to enjoy the sunny, still-warm September day. When she’d relaxed on the bench and heard him strumming away at “Let it Be,” she’d recognized immediately that there was something special about him.

She’d been hooked instantly.

(By the music, of course, and his amazing talent – not by his gently charming manner when chatting with people in between songs and certainly not by the fact that she thought she’d caught him smiling at her after finishing a beautiful rendition of “Chocolate”).

After that first time, she’d started visiting that part of the Common as often as she could in order to hear him play – he wasn’t always there when she went, and she couldn’t always make it, but it became a bright spot in her week whenever she caught him there.

She wasn’t ashamed of her little habit – she just didn’t want to tell her friends because she knew they’d tease her mercilessly, or worse, make it out to be something more than it was.

And it was just music. Brilliantly played music and an insanely hot musician, yes. But it’s not like she was interested in the guy.

(For months, she’d been steadfastly tamping down on the little voice in her head calling her a liar, as well as the flip her stomach would execute whenever she arrived at the Common and spotted him there. But it had gotten harder and harder to ignore as the fall had rolled onwards).

If it just so happened that one of Felix Sykes’ preferred hangouts wasn’t all that far from where Mr. Tall Dark and Musical usually played, well then…that was just her good luck, right?

Today, she strolled into the Common, scanning the greenspace in front of her – for her bail jumper – and settled herself on her favorite bench with the reading for her class later that day. She was mostly done with it, but she could use a little time to catch up and review – maybe she’d be able to get it all done if Felix didn’t show.

Just as she’d established a comfortable routine of alternating between reading a few paragraphs and glancing covertly around the Common for her mark, she heard it. Today, the opening number was a slowed-down, but still rousing, rendition of The Waitresses’ “Christmas Wrapping.” He followed it up with a few non-holiday tunes, including a gorgeous song she didn’t recognize, before drifting back to the seasonal material with a soulful version of Joni Mitchell’s “River” and a remarkably good take on the old Elvis standard “Blue Christmas.”

Seriously?!

She let out a disbelieving laugh that caused his head to turn her way. Oops…guess that was a bit louder than I thought, she mused. Their eyes locked for a moment as he reached the climax of the song – his rich, deep voice coloring the lyrics beautifully. His eyes were twinkling at her and she couldn’t help but smile at him even though he was playing the same sort of music she’d been complaining to David about not even an hour earlier. Somehow, she didn’t mind it so much coming from him.

After he finished the song, Mr. Guitar and Chiseled Jaw flipped his case closed and picked it up, starting to walk in the direction of her bench, a smile still on his face. Unfortunately, almost simultaneously Emma spotted Felix out of the corner of her eye. He was with a small group of boys roughly his age (and not looking any better off) as they sauntered into the Common, looking around cavalierly.

Well, shit, she thought at the same moment that the guy with the guitar reached her. That’s just perfect. She started to shove her things back into her bag so that she could be ready to confront the boys, hoping that Felix wasn’t going to make her chase him but knowing he probably would.

“Lass, I know this might be a bit forward,” the guitarist began, his smile still stretching across his face, “but I was wondering if you might be interested in joining me for coffee?”

She barely had enough time to note that his accent was as attractive as the rest of him before she saw Felix see her. The youth took off like a shot across the wide, grassy expanse, heading for the exit on the opposite side of the Common. Crap. She flicked her eyes quickly to the musician, an apology on her lips she hoped he knew was sincere. “Sorry, now’s not really the best time,” she said and, shooting him one more regret-filled look, took off after Felix as fast as she could go.

“At least tell me your name!” she heard the man call after her. Unfortunately, she couldn’t spare the breath to reply – Felix was a fast little devil, and he was pulling away from her with every step. She needed every ounce of her concentration and energy to even keep him in her sights.

Just my good luck? She remembered her earlier notion that it would be a good thing that Felix’s preferred hangout coincided with her favorite relaxation spot as her feet flew faster and faster and her blood pounded ever-louder in her ears.

Yeah, right.

Chapter Text

The next couple of weeks flew by in a blur of classes, fresh cases (she’d missed catching Felix that day on the Common, but thankfully had nabbed him two days later at another of his favorite haunts), and all of the other little tasks and errands that made up Emma’s busy life. She crammed for midterms and sat on stakeouts (both with David and alone), she wrote papers and filled out case-related paperwork, and somehow still managed to find time to squeeze in a girl’s night with Ruby, Elsa, and Mary Margaret.

What she did not do, is get to return to the Common and listen to her favorite street musician.

And it wasn’t that she was avoiding him because she was embarrassed about how their first meeting (if you could even call it that) had gone. She wasn’t. She’d just been too busy to even think straight.

However, their second meeting – which had taken place just a few days ago – was something that she tried not to think about at all. It was difficult to forget, but if she dwelt on it for too long she felt like she just wanted to shrivel up inside from a fierce blend of humiliation and frustration, so she tried to put it out of her head.

That was not one of your finest hours, Emma.

-/-

It was a huge relief when Thanksgiving week finally rolled around – she got a break from classes and David called in Mac, a freelance colleague they worked with from time to time, to cover the office. Emma got the word from her brother the Tuesday before Thanksgiving that he would be on emergency-only call status for the next three days and that she was on emergency-only call for the next five – then he reminded her (for the fourth time, at least) that she was meant to bring her sweet potato casserole to the Thanksgiving dinner he and Mary Margaret were hosting at their apartment. She answered him in the affirmative (as she had the previous three times), but not without a hefty dose of eye-rolling.

Thanksgiving Day found her at David and Mary Margaret’s, enjoying an amazing dinner and the company of many of her good friends. For a while, at least, she was able to just relax and enjoy being with those she truly considered her family.

That was the case until the tail end of dinner, when Elsa asked her a seemingly innocuous question that ended up setting off a chain reaction Emma couldn’t have foreseen.

“So, Emma…whatever happened with that guy?” her friend inquired, turning slightly in her seat at the Nolan’s cramped dining room table to face Emma more fully, an eagerly inquisitive expression coloring her normally cool, calm features.

“What guy?” Emma asked in return, her brows furrowing in honest confusion. She’d not told a soul about the musician from the Common, and she couldn’t think of anyone else that Elsa could be referring to.

“Oh, is this the guy she’s been stopping by the Common to see whenever she gets a free moment?” David’s voice cut in from the kitchen, where he was helping his wife wrap up the leftover turkey and side dishes.

“How do you know about that?” Emma exclaimed, twisting around in her seat to get a better look at her brother. She was so sure she’d been careful – she’d never seen David there, any of the times she’d visited. Though to be fair, your attention was elsewhere during those trips.

“No,” Elsa replied, ignoring Emma’s question and answering David’s instead. “This is the guy who she punched outside Ruby’s bar last week.”

“Wait! How do you know about that?!” Emma whipped her head back towards Elsa, only to find her normally composed friend sporting what could only be described as a cheeky grin.

“Emma, what’s all this about?” Mary Margaret piped up, stepping closer to David so that they could both be seen through the kitchen’s pass through. The petite brunette was wiping her hands on a dishtowel as she looked at Emma expectantly, her smile bordering on the gleeful. “Did you meet someone?”

“Apparently, two someones,” David muttered with a frown, his brotherly overprotective instincts clearly starting to kick into gear.

Taking in the array of expressions on their faces – ranging from the concerned (David) to inquisitive (Elsa) to downright giddy (Mary Margaret) – Emma did the only sensible thing she could do.

She promptly dropped her head to the table, closed her eyes, and let out a groan. Staying there for the space of a few deep breaths, she cautiously opened one eye and focused on the wood grain of the tabletop as she mumbled her reply. “Not two,” was all she said.

“Pardon?” asked Mary Margaret.

Sitting back up, Emma folded her arms over her chest and glared at all of her so-called friends. She was really notlooking forward to explaining. But she knew that there was no way around it. Sighing deeply, she repeated herself more clearly. “Not two guys,” she said. “It was the same guy.”

She was met with three identical stares of intrigued confusion. “I’ll tell the story,” she muttered, knowing she’d been defeated. “But only once, okay? It’s really nothing.”

“That usually means it’s really something,” Elsa said, blinking innocently when Emma shot a glare in her direction.

In this case, it means it’s really embarrassing, she thought to herself, wishing she didn’t have to recount the story but not seeing any way around it at this point. The best she could hope for would be to get it over with fairly quickly and hope that her friends didn’t ask too many questions afterwards. Ha! With this bunch, that will take a miracle.

But before she could open her mouth, the doorbell rang and Mary-Margaret headed towards the entryway. “Emma, hang on – that’ll be Ruby and Mulan. They were having dinner with Granny but said they’d swing by for dessert. David, can you pull Merida and the others away from the TV please? And don’t get sucked into the game!” she called after her husband’s retreating back.

Left alone with Elsa, Emma leaned over until her head was resting on her friend’s shoulder. “You think there’s any chance they’ll all forget about this by the time they’re full of pie?” she groused.

Elsa just laughed gently and reached up to softly pat her on the head. “I’m sorry if I opened up a can of worms. I didn’t realize this was such a big deal.”

Emma shrugged without sitting up. “It’s not…really, it’s not.” She paused, considering her words before continuing. “It’s not anything…but it might’ve been something. Or had the potential to be? I don’t know. Nevermind.”

Elsa took a deep breath as if to respond, but before she could speak the apartment exploded in a flurry of activity. Mary-Margaret bustled back in from the front door and headed for the kitchen trailed by Mulan and Ruby, the latter carrying a pair of cake boxes from her grandmother’s diner. David re-emerged from the den, followed by Merida, Graham, and August – they were all still hotly debating a contested call from the game they’d been watching while the others had lingered at the dinner table.

Mary-Margaret quickly unboxed the chocolate cake and pumpkin pie Ruby had brought, and added her own apple-caramel pie to the dessert lineup on the kitchen island, topping the array off with a bowl of homemade whipped cream and a tub of vanilla ice cream. She called everyone in for dessert and for a few moments the small space was occupied with a frenzy of slicing, scooping, and serving.

Finally, everyone had their chosen desserts and had settled back around the table. Any hope Emma’d had – however slim – that her story would be forgotten and she’d be off the hook, evaporated when Mary-Margaret turned to her and, with a far too innocent blink of her eyes, asked. “So, Emma. You were saying?”

With a defeated sigh, she began her tale.

-/-

The thud-thud of her footsteps on the pavement nearly matching the fast pace of her heartbeat, Emma wove her way through the late night crowd on Tremont Street. Sweat beaded along her hairline despite the cool air, and her breath was visible every few seconds as she exhaled, releasing in great white cloud-puffs that floated away into the evening sky. Despite the fact that she’d already been chasing her current skip – a petty thief with a taste for small electronics – for more than six blocks, she was pulling closer to him. After losing Felix that day on the Common, Emma was determined not to let another mark give her the slip. Sure, she’d found Felix quickly enough anyhow, but it was the principle of the damn thing.

Spotting the thief’s dark hair and black leather jacket on the brink of disappearing into the crowd only half a block ahead of her, Emma put on one final burst of speed. Dodging bar patrons that were spilling out of one of the street’s many bars – Ruby’s, actually, she had a split-second to note – she caught up to him at last. Closing her fingers around the collar of his jacket, she used momentum to swing him around. For good measure, her free hand came up as she turned him towards her, and she planted a solid punch directly on the right cheekbone of –

-the wrong man.

“Lass,” groaned a very familiar lilting voice, whose owner now turned fully to face her as he staggered back under the force of her blow. “If you didn’t want to have coffee with me, all you had to do was say so.”

-/-

Emma hissed involuntarily as Ruby deposited a soft dishcloth filled with ice cubes on her hand, causing her bruised knuckles to start throbbing. “Shit.”

“Agreed,” murmured the figure seated to her left. He was slumped forward over the bar, a matching dishcloth pressed against the right side of his face. Given the way her knuckles felt, the odds were good that he’d have a pretty impressive shiner tomorrow despite the ice. He chuckled dryly before wincing slightly.

A wave of embarrassment swept over her. “Look, I’m really sorry about that. I don’t make a habit of going around punching strange men.”

“Actually, you kind of do,” Ruby cut in, a wicked grin on her face when Emma glanced her way. “In fact, it’s kind of essential to your job description.”

“Ruby,” Emma gritted out, her tone heavily implying an unspoken shut up.

Ruby – never one to heed warnings, verbal or otherwise – had opened her mouth, poised to respond, when a commotion between some patrons at the other end of the bar drew her attention. As she moved away to take care of the problem, she glanced at the man Emma had punched, then looked at Emma and smirked. Emma rolled her eyes at her friend before turning back to the man next to her.

“Is that really true, lass?” he asked, sounding faintly impressed. “What sort of job calls for that particular skill set, if I may ask?” He quirked an inquisitive eyebrow at her.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” she found herself murmuring back before biting her lip.

He gazed back at her, eyes full of mischief but something warm and genuine in the smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Perhaps I would,” he replied.

It was the warm honesty in his expression that prompted her to reply more readily than she otherwise might have. “I’m in bail bonds, actually,” she said. “I was tracking a mark…who unfortunately for you also had dark hair and a black leather jacket. I lost him in the crowd and grabbed you by accident.” She gestured at his face. “Again, I’m really sorry about that punch.”

He shrugged off her apology. “Don’t fret about it, love. It’s been awhile, but I dare say I’ve had a fair sight worse and from assailants not nearly half as lovely.”

It was the sort of line that normally would have had Emma rolling her eyes and readying a caustic retort, but as she listened to the soft lilt of his words she continued to observe an earnestness and honest quality in everything he said. It inspired her to respond in kind. “Thanks for being so understanding,” she said softly before steeling her nerves. “Look…since we’re conveniently in a bar right now, I don’t suppose you’d want to-“

“Hey Killian, you guys are up if you can still play!” Ruby called from the other end of the bar before Emma could finish asking if he’d let her buy him a drink – just as an apology for the punch, of course. And for skipping out on him the first time, she thought. She bit back the groan of frustration that wanted to escape – was something always going to keep them from having a real conversation?

At least now, thanks to Ruby, she knew his first name.

To his credit, Killian looked as frustrated as she felt. “Sorry about that, love – I was on my way in here for a gig when we, er, ran into each other.” He glanced over to where a small stage sat at the far end of the room. A couple of other men were already onstage – the taller of the two was sandy-haired and smiling as he tuned his bass guitar, while the shorter one with the unfortunately large ears looked a bit disgruntled as he settled himself behind the drum kit. Turning back to her, Killian gestured at the pair. “And it looks like my mates just got here – I’m going to have to go. But look…our set’s not going to be that long. Will you…would you stay? Have a drink with me after?”

“Oi, Jones! Stop flirtin’ and get yer lazy arse up here!” the drummer had gotten settled behind his kit and his sharply accented voice cut across the entire bar, amplified by his mic. Killian rolled his eyes and muttered a curse before looking at Emma again, a hopeful expression on his face.

She grinned. Maybe her evening would turn out well after all. Nodding, she murmured. “All right.”

“Brilliant!” he smiled brightly back at her before scooping up the guitar case she’d previously not noticed that had been leaning against the bar beside him. “I’ll see you in about 45 minutes, yeah?”

“I’ll be here,” she said with a laugh as he moved off towards the stage. She flagged down one of the bartenders and asked for a water, deciding to wait for him to return before getting anything stronger to drink. Besides, after her foot chase earlier in the evening, she definitely needed to hydrate. They kicked off their set with a boisterous Mumford and Sons cover, and she sat back and enjoyed the music.

As their set rolled along, the trio played a variety of covers, another piece she guessed might have been an original, and a couple of seasonal tunes – including a slowed-down rendition of Wham’s “Last Christmas” that was oddly sultry. She enjoyed them all, and as the set went on she found it harder and harder to deny the pull she was feeling towards Killian, despite having only exchanged the briefest of words with him earlier.

Alright, alright…maybe I’ve been going to that park for more than just the music.

Just as Killian announced over his mic that the next few songs would be their last, Emma’s phone started buzzing insistently in her pocket. Pulling it out, she saw David’s name on the screen. She groaned. It was unlikely that he’d call her unless there was something urgent with another one of their cases. He knew she’d been working one tonight – as far as he knew, she still was – and unless it was an emergency, he wouldn’t pull her off her current job.

Dammit.

She picked up reluctantly, listening with a sinking feeling in her gut as David outlined the problem he was having with the perp in the other case. “I really need you, Emma – how soon can you get over to Long Wharf?”

Emma did a quick calculation in her head – it was almost three quarters of a mile to the location David mentioned. “If I hurry, maybe twenty minutes – but I don’t have my car at the moment, so maybe a little bit more.”

“Just get here as soon as you can,” her brother urged.

“Yeah, yeah,” she replied. “You owe me though. Big time. Where exactly should I look for you?” She listened as he rattled off his specific location before saying goodbye and trying to get the attention of one of the bartenders. She wanted to leave a message for Killian – she hated that she was going to have to take off on him again, and with him still on stage she couldn’t explain directly.

Unfortunately for her, the place had steadily gotten mobbed over the last half hour or so and the bartenders were all swamped. Even Ruby was pinned down helping customers and Emma couldn’t get her attention. After about five minutes of fruitless attempts, she had to give up – if she didn’t leave right now, she’d be putting David in a serious bind.

There was nothing for it – she was going to have to bail on Killian. Again.

She quickly chugged down the rest of her water, turned, and headed for the door.

-/-

“And that’s about all there is to that story,” she finished morosely, swirling the last bite of her pie through the melting ice cream on her plate before popping it into her mouth.

“Wellllll, that’s not exactly true,” Ruby chimed in from her spot across the table next to Mulan, who silently quirked an eyebrow at her girlfriend’s exuberance. Ruby glanced at her quickly, before turning back to Emma, a slightly guilty expression flickering over her face before it was replaced by her customary mischievous twinkle.

“Ruby,” Emma narrowed her eyes at her friend. “What did you do?”

“Nothing bad!” she exclaimed. “I just gave him a way to find you…maybe.”

“Like he’s even going to want to – this is the second time I bailed on him.” Emma huffed. “What did you say?”

“Wait – second time?” Mary-Margaret cut in, looking perplexed but intrigued. Emma glanced around the table only to find many of their friends wearing similar expressions.

“He also plays regularly at the Common. Where apparently David,” she cut her eyes to her brother who had the decency to look sheepish, “has covertly seen me go listen to him. A few weeks ago I was staking out a different mark there and had to take off when the mark showed up just after Killian had asked me to get coffee.” She dropped her head into her hands and mumbled. “Didn’t give him my name either time – he probably doesn’t want to have anything to do with me.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Ruby piped up again. “Not with how he kind of looked like a lost puppy when he tried to find you at the bar after he’d finished his set.”

“That doesn’t exactly negate my point.” Emma picked her head up and glared blearily at Ruby. “And you never did tell me what you said to him.”

Her friend smiled a touch too brightly at her before responding. “I might have just supplied your name. I know you get twitchy about giving out your number and whatever…and I get that…but he’s a good guy-“

“You know that how?” Emma asked.

“He’s been playing at the bar with his band for the last several weekends, and we’ve talked a few times. Trust me, Emma, he’s one of the good ones,” Ruby said, her tone more serious than usual. “Besides, you’d already told him what you did for a living. I figured that with that info and your name, if he really wanted to, he’d be able to find you.”

Emma shrugged, a curious mix of hopeful anticipation and resigned disappointment blending together in her stomach, making the pie she’d just finished feel distinctly leaden. “Yeah, maybe.”

She fell silent after that, and just let the ebb and flow of the conversation around the table wash over her. Part of her wanted to hope that Ruby was right, but the bigger part of her was mired in doubt.

Maybe he’ll try to find me…but I’m not going to hold my breath.

Chapter Text

After nearly a week of internally debating with herself, Emma screwed her courage to the sticking place and went over to the Common around lunchtime. She was toting a steaming cup of coffee and bundled up in her warmest winter coat, the temperatures having plummeted sharply in the days since Thanksgiving. She stayed for an hour, sipping her rapidly cooling coffee until she couldn’t take it any longer – cold-induced shudders racing through her despite her heavy coat – and decided to head home to get started on some work for one of her final papers. She’d been putting it off, and it certainly wasn’t going to write itself – no matter how much she wished for it to. Killian didn’t show and she chalked it up to the freezing temperatures. It would have been really hard on him to play in this weather, she told herself. His fingers would have frozen solid.

Sighing as she left the Common, she tried to stuff down the disappointment she felt. It’s irrational – you don’t even really know him, she silently berated herself. And you ran out on him twice and punched him in the face. You’ve got no right to feel like this. But no matter how much she tried to make herself believe that, the nagging sensation persisted. It felt like having missed a connection she was supposed to have made.

The same pattern persisted for the better part of the next ten days or so – she went to the Common, not every day but several times, and stayed as long as she could before the cold drove her away. It didn’t matter when she got there or how long she stayed – she didn’t run into Killian once. After the first couple of times she began to wonder if it wasn’t the cold keeping him away, but the possibility of seeing her.

Don’t be stupid, Emma. He wouldn’t give up a steady gig over this. There has to be something else going on – you just don’t know what. Logical though her reasoning might have been, after the third time she came up empty, she decided she was through. It’s probably for the best – this is starting to feel borderline stalkery, she thought to herself as she trudged back towards the T after her latest failed attempt. She was only continuing to come up empty, and it hadn’t been making her feel any better and she resolved then and there not to go looking for him again.

If he finds you, then it’ll be a sign – otherwise, it’ll be time to let it go.

-/-

She knew something was off the instant she stepped out onto the street, but at first she couldn’t place exactly what. As she turned back to lock the office door, her scalp prickled with awareness – she could feel the weight of someone’s gaze on her back and was about to reach into her purse for her trusty can of pepper spray when she heard it.

Music.

The gentle plucking of guitar strings, to be exact. The notes were slow, intermittent – as if the instrument was being tuned. A flicker of hope burst to life in her chest, and as she turned back to face the street, she saw him – a few steps away, leaning nonchalantly against the wall of the building – and she couldn’t stop the wide grin that spread across her face.

She also couldn’t seem to find her tongue, as they stood there – her grinning like a loon – for about thirty seconds in complete and utter silence. Finally, he seemed to remember himself and sidled a bit closer to her, ducking his head as he finished his tuning and began to play the first few chords of a slightly familiar tune.

Her eyes followed his hands, and she was so mesmerized by the way his fingers moved so nimbly over the strings that she didn’t realize at first that he’d started speaking.

“…and maybe we could just try this again?” he asked.

She tore her gaze away from his hands, bringing it back to his hopeful face, and realized that she’d missed most of what he’d just said. “Huh?”

Oh that’s eloquent, Emma.

Thankfully, he seemed amused by her reaction and simply smiled and repeated the question. “I said, it seems that we’ve had bad luck with this the first two times around, but I was wondering if you’d like to join me for a drink and maybe we could just try this again?”

Her heartbeat kicked up a notch or two, and she felt a pleasant warmth bloom in her cheeks. That feeling she’d carried around with her for the past week, that frisson of regret for a missed connection, evaporated as she smiled back at him. “Well, you know what they say…” He merely arched a curious eyebrow in response. She chuckled as she continued. “…third time’s the charm.”

His grin widened and his eyes lit up. “Excellent!” he exclaimed. “I was hoping –”

“What’s with the guitar?” she cut in, gesturing to where he was still absentmindedly strumming while they talked. “I mean, not in general, but why now? If you don’t mind my asking?”

His cheeks took on an adorable pink tinge and he stopped playing to scratch behind his right ear before he answered. “Ah, well lass, I’m afraid your quick reply deprived me of what would have been a rather dashing and persuasive serenade – if I do say so myself.”

“Oh?”

“But,” he hastened to add, “I’m much happier having your answer already. Especially given what it was.”

He really is pretty adorable when he blushes, Emma thought. “Well, now that we’ve got that settled,” she said brightly, “you were saying something about a drink?”

“Indeed. You’re not free right now, by any chance, are you? I have a gig later tonight but I don’t have to be there for a few hours…and now that we’ve finally managed to connect, I kind of don’t want to let the opportunity pass by,” he said, an earnest look on his face.

Technically, she supposed she should go home and do some more work on prepping for her finals, which loomed ever nearer, but there was no way she was going to let another chance to get to know Killian better slip through her fingers. Especially not when he was standing there, looking so hopefully at her.

“Actually,” she said, “I am. But I’m awfully hungry – never got a minute to have lunch today. Would you mind if we got dinner instead? I know a great place not far from here.”

If he was taken aback by her sudden upgrading of their impromptu date from drinks to dinner, he didn’t show it. He dipped his head in what almost constituted a little bow, and gestured to her to lead the way. “Just let me put my guitar away and I’m all yours.”

He bent and deftly slipped the guitar into its case, which had been resting against the wall near his feet. Clicking the case closed and hefting it in his hand, he straightened with a smile. “Where to, lass?”

She turned and started walking, pointing down the street ahead of them. “C’mon. This way.” He fell into step beside her and they continued on in companionable silence for a couple of blocks until they slowed to a stop in front of a cheery, brightly lit diner. An old fashioned sign on top proudly displayed the owner’s name – the lettering proclaiming “Granny’s” shone down on them in red and green neon while the woman herself could be seen bustling about behind the counter inside.

Before Emma could say anything, Killian spoke up, sounding pleased. “Oh good choice. I love this place.”

She turned to face him, surprised. “You know Granny’s?”

“Who doesn’t?” he replied, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Best burger I’ve had in this city.”

“Huh,” she huffed. “I’ve just never seen you in there…and I’m there a lot.”

He shrugged. “Musician’s hours are odd, lass.”

She snorted, “Yeah, because bail bonds work is such a regular nine to five.”

He grinned back at her. “Well, it doesn’t matter how often we missed each other in the past, does it? I’m just glad we connected now.”

The continued earnestness of his tone and his genuine expression caught her off guard, and she felt that warmth bloom across her face again, pinkening her cheeks, she was sure. She ducked her head quickly, blinking furiously in an attempt to get herself under control. She looked back up at him with a soft smile. “Me too.”

“Well then, shall we?” He asked, gesturing towards the door.

“Yeah, I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”

-/-

And that was how it started. After all their missteps and missed connections, it was a such a simple beginning – it was almost funny how effortless it was between them. Dinner turned into coffee and dessert, which in turn led to Emma joining Killian for his gig that night on the spur of the moment, and sharing a drink with him at the club’s bar after that.

The entire evening was infused with an easy chemistry that Emma hadn’t felt with anyone in a very long time, if ever. She wasn’t quite sure why it was so natural and easy to talk to Killian, although she suspected that maybe it had to do with the fact that he truly seemed interested in listening to her. He had a way of watching her as she spoke – intent, no intense, but warm and not off-putting – that made her feel completely at ease.

Because of this she somewhat surprisingly found herself sharing things with him that she didn’t usually reveal to a guy until at least several dates in.

Even more surprising – she didn’t feel her usual fight or flight instinct kicking in. Instead, she was filled with a blend of relaxation and anticipation that warmed her from the inside out.

And she only wanted to prolong the feeling.

He, too, seemed to feel equally at ease with her, readily offering a personal story or piece of information for each of hers.

She learned about how his brother Liam raised him after their mother had passed away and their father had left them when Killian was fairly young. In turn, she found herself revealing bits and pieces of her childhood in the foster system – how she’d bounced around from home to home until she was in her early teens and had been placed with David’s mother, Ruth, who eventually adopted her.

He talked about his day job as a graphic designer, but confessed that the music bug had bitten him early in life and had never let go of him. It sometimes got tricky balancing his steady job with his gigs, but he told her how he simply couldn’t bear to give up playing, his eyes dancing with enthusiasm as he spoke. She told him that she could sympathize with his busy schedule because she was juggling working with David in their bail bonds office with trying to go to school part time to get her masters in social work.

And so it went, on and on, sharing silly stories of their friends – and finding that, actually, they had a few in common besides Ruby – and their families which, while small, meant the world to them. She admitted that she’d tried to find him at the Common during the past week and a half (though she didn’t cop to exactly how often she’d gone looking for him) and learned that he’d been visiting his brother, who was now a lawyer, in New York since Liam would be traveling abroad at Christmas.

It was the best date she’d had in ages, and there was a big part of her that didn’t want it to end. But there was a smaller, yet annoyingly logical, part of her that didn’t want to rush anything with Killian. She didn’t want to follow her standard one night stand pattern with him, she realized. There was a connection between them that she couldn’t deny, and for once, she wanted to explore this kind of attraction and see if it could grow into something more than just the quick satisfaction of basic, physical urges. She had a feeling it could, and for the first time in forever, she wasn’t afraid to let it.

But as they sat together at the bar after his set was over, sharing tumblers of rum, she found herself staring at his mouth and losing track of what he was saying, and she knew that if she didn’t extricate herself soon, she’d be tempted to invite him to come back home with her. She wasn’t quite ready for that with him – she didn’t want to risk this crashing and burning. (Though, truthfully, she wasn’t sure how long she was going to be able to wait).

With extreme reluctance, she finished the last swallow of her rum and pushed her glass back towards the bartender, shaking her head “no” when they asked if she wanted another. Turning to Killian, she spoke, a regretful smile pulling her mouth tight. “So.”

“So…?” he queried, meeting her gaze with a raised eyebrow and a curious smile.

‘I really hate to say this,” she said, “but I probably should be heading out. I’ve had an amazing time, but I’ve got to be in the office early tomorrow.”

“Oh,” he said, his brows furrowing and his mouth pulling down into a frown for a moment. But then he looked at his watch and blinked, his eyes widening in surprise. “Bloody hell, it is late.”

“Yeah, well, time flies when you’re having fun, right?” she offered with a smile, hoping he’d understand that she really did regret having to call a halt to their evening.

“True,” he agreed, finishing off his own rum and fishing out his wallet to pay. He tossed a few bills on the bar and then stood up, putting his wallet away and shrugging into his leather jacket. “Well, c’mon then.”

“Wait, what?” she stood and followed him out of the bar, slipping her own jacket on to ward off the mid-December chill outside. Boston winters were unforgiving in the daytime, let alone the middle of the night. “Where exactly are we going?”

“Oh,” he turned back to her, stopping momentarily. “Forgive me, lass. I was going to walk you back to your car, if that’s alright.”

She bit her lip – part of her wanted to tell him that she was a big girl and could more than handle herself, but the way he was looking at her wasn’t patronizing, and his tone didn’t seem to imply he thought she couldn’t handle herself. In fact, he looked as loathe to part from her company as she felt to part from his. So instead she grinned, teasing him lightly. “Such a gentleman,” she murmured.

He nodded and held out his arm for her to take. “I can be, when the situation warrants it,” he replied with a wink. She looped her arm through his, a shiver racing through her that had less to do with the cold and more to do with the promise in his tone that hinted at less-than-gentlemanly behavior that she hoped she’d get to experience someday. Soon, she promised herself as they walked and she nestled closer to his warmth.

-/-

The club where he’d been playing was only a few blocks from Granny’s and as the diner was only a few more blocks from the office she shared with David, it wasn’t too long of a walk until they were back at her Bug and she was regretfully disentangling her arm from his. “Well, this is me,” she said, turning to face him.

He nodded, a soft smile flickering across his face. “Emma,” he paused before continuing. “Will you go out with me again?”

She smiled back at him, ducking her head for a moment before looking back up at him. Instead of verbalizing her response, she pushed up on her tiptoes, bracing her hands on his shoulders as she leaned into him and kissed him slowly and softly. After a moment, she pulled back just far enough to murmur. “Give me your phone.”

He fished around and pulled it out of his back pocket, handing it to her with a smile. She quickly entered her number into his contacts and sent herself a text so she’d have his number as well. “There,” she said, “now we don’t have to rely on chance.” She gave his phone back to him and slipped her arms back up around his shoulders. “And just in case I didn’t make it clear, yes, I would very much like to go out with you again, Killian.”

His grin was blinding before he leaned in and closed the distance between them, and she could feel the curves of their smiles bumping their cheeks against each other as their lips met again and again. Their kisses quickly deepened into something more passionate than playful, and Emma wasn’t sure how much time had passed but when she eventually came back to herself she was pressed up against the side of her Bug, her forehead leaning against Killian’s and both of them panting heavily.

She pulled back far enough to glance up at him, only to find him looking every bit as wrecked as she felt. His cheeks were delightfully flushed, lips kiss-bitten, and several strands of his hair refused to stay put, falling adorably across his brow. “Well then,” he said, his voice deeper and his accent rougher than she’d ever heard it, “goodnight, love.”

“Goodnight, Killian.”