Page 6 of Finding Our Reality

How freakin’ rude can this guy be? I’ve made up my mind that I’m not telling him shit. And I’m not leaving this station until Marcum is back on the case. Spinning around, I refuse to face him when he walks through the door. He doesn’t have time for me? Well, fine, I don’t have time for him.

But then, everything changes.

The door opens all the way, and I hear him kick it closed with a boot. “Sorry to keep you waiting, ma’am. I’m told you’re wanting to speak with someone regarding the Caroline Hill missing person’s case?”

I don’t have to turn around to know it’s him.

True, his voice has more depth now. More tone. Aged like a fine wine. But I would still know it anywhere.

Because it’s the voice that refuses to leave my head. No matter how much I want it to. No matter how much I hate hearing it.

It’s the voice I hear when I touch myself, alone in my bed, late at night.

And I despise the fact that it still sends a chill down my spine.

Chapter 3

CRUTCH

She doesn’t have to turn around for me to know it’s her.

I would know that body anywhere.

As soon as the last syllable leaves my mouth and I glance up from my notepad, I know it’s her. That stiff back, those perfectly postured shoulders, that head tilted in the air, wafting the scent of fake arrogance throughout the room.

There’s no denying it.

Her mile-long legs have a tighter line to them. Her waist, although still trim, is a little softer. Her hair, although still the color of heated honey, is shorter. It grazes the tops of her shoulders. It’s also wavy now, not straight.

Her hips are wider. She’s a mature woman. Child-bearing age.

Holy shit. Lulu may be a mom.

Marcum refuses to tell me anything about her. In fact, no one tells me anything about her. And I refuse to do a web search on her. So, it’s a great possibility that she may be re-married by now. She may be someone’s mom.

But, even if all that wasn’t a dead giveaway, the hand rubbing the scar on the back of her neck would be.

She freezes the second she digests my voice. She knows it’s me. We can feel each other in this small-ass room. She’s literally sucking all the energy from my body, even though she’s more than eight feet away.

She doesn’t have to take it, though. I’m willing to give it. I’ll give every bit of energy I have to this woman… still.

I was always willing to give everything to Lulu. That’s why I gave her life back to her. And I’ve been regretting it every second since.

Lowering her hand, she slowly spins around to face me. I stop breathing the moment I lay eyes on her gorgeous face. Time has been kind to My Lulu. She’s only grown more beautiful. Just like the night we first met, her makeup is expertly applied. Her lips shine with gloss, her cheekbones are highlighted pink, and her eyelashes are luxurious and dark, probably painted with mascara that costs more than my bi-weekly paycheck.

Her eyes glitter with more hidden emotions than I ever thought possible. Despite the dilation, I’m pretty sure the overriding emotion is anger. She takes a deep breath, swelling her chest. It looks like her breast size has increased. A half-cup, maybe. A cup?

My dick jumps in my pants and I quickly cover it with my notepad and file folder.

Out of all the things I see that I like, there is one thing that I don’t like. It’s pretty damn clear thatLuluisn’t standing in front of me.

Ellais.

She finally breaks the silence, hissing at me. “What are you doing here?”

“I work here. It’s called a job.”

“You came back to town? You live here?”

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