“Yeah, man, I’m sorry about that. I guess I was fooling myself to think I could come here, hang out, talk with you, and she’d never find out. I’m sorry I put you in that position.” I raise my eyebrows and take a swig of my beer. “Despite my good intentions, nothing involving her has ever gone according to my plan.”
Will slaps me on the shoulder. “Then, maybe you should stop planning.”
I follow him back over to the main room, unsure of how to even respond, when someone reaches out, snatching me by the bicep and pulling me to the side.
Oh. Fuck. My. Life. Why does this day just keep getting better and better?
Lynn leans forward, tracing her finger across the chest of my blue long-sleeve T-shirt. She sucks in a breath when her nail crosses over my nipple. “Crutch, you’re not wearing your polo?”
I grab her hand, quickly removing it from my chest. I can feel a fiery burn scalding the side of my face. Stealing a glance at Lulu, my heart stops beating when I see her watching me. Her eyes flare in anger and her jaw clenches. She squares her shoulders and turns her full attention back to the guy at her side. Sighing, I let go of Lynn’s hand. “Lynn, you know I don’t wear department-issued clothes when I’m in the bar. When I’m drinking, relaxing.”
Lynn has a thing for guys in uniform. She’s young. Twenty-five, maybe. She works in the tax assessor’s office at the county courthouse. That’s where we ran into each other. Of course, wehooked up. She flirted. I asked her out. We wound up at her place, having sex. I think her bedspread was a pink leopard print.
She’s a nice girl, don’t get me wrong, but she’s also one of the many poor life choices I have stacked against me. I can remember her bedspread, but I don’t remember her kiss. Don’t remember her touch. Don’t remember her scent.
I’m a complete and total asshole. And now I’m starting to think that my main goal in life was proving I was king of the assholes instead of being what I should’ve been. Lulu’s champion. Lulu’s lover. Lulu’s partner.
Lulu’s husband.
I’m surprised when I hear her behind me, clearing her throat. “Well, see you on Monday, bright and early. We have a lot of work to do,” she pauses for a split second before choking on her sarcasm, “partner.”
The guy beside her wraps his hand around the small of her back, leading her away. She grimaces, but she doesn’t stop him. He’s smiling like he just won the damn lottery.
She’s not drunk.
She’s sober.
She’s sober, and she’s leaving the bar with a one-night stand.
She’s doing the very thing I’ve been guilty of on more than one occasion.
And what’s worse, somehow, I bet she’ll remember more about him than just his bedspread color.
Chapter 6
CRUTCH
She’s following me down the hallway, hauling her purse and a large computer work bag on her shoulder. I offered to take it from her, but she refused. On our way to the conference room, we pass by the large bullpen office I share with the other investigators—Marcum, Leary, Colson, and the new guy, Wilson.
She pauses, staring at Marcum’s desk. “Where is everyone?”
“Marcum is in a lieutenant’s meeting. Leary and Colson are out of the building, and the new guy, Wilson, is actually on loan for a couple of weeks to a department in South Alabama. He did some undercover work when he was on patrol, and he’s on loan doing the same thing for a different department.”
She walks into the office, not asking for permission, acting like this is a second home to her. And I don’t stop her. I should, but I don’t. I always do what I shouldn’t, and that hasn’t changed. She opens one of Marcum’s desk drawers and smiles to herself, quickly shoving it closed. I don’t know why a drawer full of protein bars make her happy, but I’m glad they do. That little smile is the best thing I’ve seen in days.
She stops for a moment at my desk. There’s nothing personal on it. No framed photos. No mementos. Nothing. At least, there’s nothing ontopof my desk. If she opened a drawer, she would see the dog-eared copy ofSilas Marner, the last book we read together before I left her.
Reaching across to Colson’s desk, she quickly rearranges his framed photographs and shoves his stapler and tape roll into the wicker basket of the large potted plant between his and Wilson’sdesks. She breezes past me, wafting the scent of her shampoo in my direction. “Let’s go.”
“You know he’s gonna blame me for that.”
She shrugs and makes a huh sound, quickly filing her fun side away and bringing Ella back to the forefront.
I unlock the conference room door and step aside, giving her wide berth. I reserved the room for the foreseeable future so we can leave our paperwork here and I can lock the room each time we leave. I’ve already brought in my case files on Carrie and stocked the room with office materials, a dry erase board, and a thumbtack board. I even bought the kind of ink pens and highlighters she likes. Well, used to like. She wastes no time pulling out her laptop and getting hooked up.
I pull up a seat, adjusting my weapon as I sit down. “So, what exactly is this business of yours? What do you do? Why did the mayor fall all over himself and break protocol to have you work on this case?”
She glares at me with those honey and copper eyes, blinking her black eyelashes. She’s seriously considering not answering my question. If she’s not even going to communicate with me, this will be one hell of a long investigation. It’s already long considering I spent the entire weekend obsessing about what might have happened when she left the bar with that guy.