Page 34 of Dining for Love

At the same time, what kind of life would I have here? It’s so...slow. After spending the last few years undercover, in a pretty constant state of anxiety, if I’m being honest, my body still doesn’t know how to take all of this…stillness. Despite the town’s hazing, which has been nothing short of charming in a way, my time here has almost felt like a vacation.

“Think about it,” Jack says, sensing that I don’t really have anything to say about it. “And take the day off.”

“It’s Saturday,” I protest. “Don’t I need to go write at least fifty licensing citations to the people on the pier?”

He laughs. “You know you don’t.”

“Yeah, that’s Thompson’s gig,” I smirk. The man gets far too much enjoyment out of issuing those things. He’s also the exact kind of asshole cop who tickets people for the ticky-tacky things they usually don’t even know about, like burned-out rear lights. I’m about to insist on doing the shift, but then he says, “Willa’s off today.”

Dammit. My eyes fly to his, and they straight-up twinkle. I bet he’d make a great Santa if he let his beard grow.

He laughs and shoos me out the door. “Thought so. Go. Enjoy the day. I’m not always this generous.”

I leave before he changes his mind, swinging past the Piggly Wiggly to grab some wet food and a toy for Midnight as my excuse for the visit. Then I head home to change out of my uniform, putting my gun in the safe and making sure it’s locked before leaving through the back and closing the distance to Willa’s.

She answers the door, and I nearly swallow my tongue. She’s in a dark blue, silky pajama set. Her hair is tousled and she absolutely, with no question, is not wearing a bra. She holds Midnight against her chest, her lips bare, and she blinks up at me.

Lord, give me strength.I have never prayed for help in the face of unbound breasts, but I think now is a grand time to start. How,how, am I supposed to resist this woman?

“Reid!” Her voice comes out high-pitched and tinny, and she winces. She clears her throat, the pink I adore already blooming across her cheeks, and tries again. “H-hi,” she stammers. “What’s up? I mean, why are you here?”

I fall back on the dimpled smile that’s guaranteed to increase her blush. “I brought treats.” I hold up the plastic bag and hoping she doesn’t notice the way my pants have gotten just a little tighter around the crotch area. Midnight mewls pitifully, scrabbling to get out of Willa’s hands and into mine like some sort of baby who’s seen her favorite uncle.

Willa rolls her eyes at the kitten’s antics but hands her over and takes the bag out of my grip. With a shy smile, she says, “Come on in, then.”

It’s the first time I’ve been in here. The kitchen is small but clearly used, the counters stuffed with cooking implements and spices. She sets the bag down on the table, and I follow her to the living room. She gestures for me to have a seat on the couch, butI’m too busy looking at the incredible amounts of doilies scattered about.

“Willa. Are you a secret doily maker?” I ask, half afraid of the answer.

She crosses her arms. “No. They came with the place.”

I choke out a laugh. “And you’ve kept them on display? There’s…” I trail off to count. “At least ten in here.”

“I’m well aware.”

“Doilies for cups, doilies for the arms of the couch, doilies for ...”

She cuts me off. “I know. They’re not so bad.”

“Willa. They’resobad.” I choke out a laugh.

Willa widens her eyes and gestures to Agatha’s house. “Well, what am I supposed to tell her? ‘Sorry, Agatha, I can’t keep these on display in my house because they’re a crime against the twenty-first century’?”

I laugh. “That is precisely what you should tell her.”

“Yeah, you try telling her that and see how far you get.”

“You’re right,” I say after a moment of consideration. “It’s a terrible idea.”

She laughs and points at me. “Exactly.”

Midnight mewls in my arms, and it’s only then that I realize I’ve been holding her this whole time. I nod to the bag she left in the kitchen. “I brought a toy and some treats. Wanna give them to her?”

She hums and turns away, and because I’m an asshole, I take the opportunity to watch her walk away from me. Christ. Those tiny shorts might be the death of me. She returns with the toys: A plush mouse with some catnip inside it and a little stick with feathers on it. I put the kitten down, and she immediately pounces on the mouse.

I laugh. “Guess she likes it.”

“She’s a cat. Pretty sure it’s in her DNA.” Then she pauses. “Do you…wanna stay for a while? Hang out?”

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