Page 66 of Claws and Feathers

“Nope. No other red flags that I saw.”

“Thanks, Walker. I’m on my way to the station now.”

James paused. “What’s your angle, McAllister?”

Cooper resumed his pace, opening his car door and hopping inside. “I don’t have a goddamn clue,” he admitted. “But I’ll take anything I can get right now.”

Abby raced to the front door that evening when she heard the knock. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw Cooper standing on the other side. “You’re back,” she said, a radiant smile lighting up her face.

Cooper had texted her that morning while she was still asleep, telling her he needed to head into work and that he’d return after his shift. Officer Kravitz had been parked out front all day watching over her. Abby was grateful for the extra pair of eyes while there was a creep out there leaving her morbid gift baskets, but it wasn’t quite the same as when Cooper McAllister kept watch.

“Miss me?” Cooper greeted, his eyes sparkling.

His smile matched her own, and Abby felt a twinge of heat start to swell in her belly and travel downwards. She gulped as she stepped aside, allowing him entry. “Cupcake missed you more it seems.”

The cat was at his feet as soon as he crossed the threshold, spiraling around each ankle. Cooper chuckled. “Such a warm welcome.”

Abby flashed back to the night before when she’d fallen asleep against his chest like it was the most natural thing in the world. She had woken up at sunrise to find Cooper still lying beside her, his arm partially draped over her hip. Abby had instinctively inched her way towards him, cocooning herself in his arms. Cooper had stirred, but only to tighten his grip around her waist. The memory made her tingle. She had been disappointed to wake up a few hours later to his absence, but she’d been elated to see that he’d be returning that evening.

Cooper walked inside, his eyes dancing over to her. “Do I smell food?”

“Yeah, I made some enchiladas. Hopefully you like Mexican.”

He paused to study her beneath her brand new light fixture. There was a fleeting look that glided across his face. “You didn’t have to cook for me. I would have been happy raiding your pantry for munchies later.”

Abby grinned. “You still can. I was thinking another marathon of The Office?”

“Wait, dinner and a show? Are you trying to seduce me?”

She had a witty comeback on the tip of her tongue, but her tongue had decided to tie in knots.Stupid tongue.Then she started thinking about Cooper’s tongue. Specifically, his tongue doing things tohertongue. Abby felt her cheeks grow warm. “Is it working?” she squeaked out. It was supposed to be a joke,of courseit was supposed to be a joke, but it sure as hell came out like a come-on.

Cooper leaned in ever so slightly. His hazel eyes flickered greens and golds as his lips curled into a half-smile. “A little.”

Shit, wasthatsupposed to be a joke? The blush in her cheeks shot all the way down to her toes. Why were all the lights in her house suddenly blazing hot? What was the damn wattage on the bulbs?

Abby brought a hand up to her chest, as if to hide the pink splotches she was certain were spreading like wildfire. “Wine,” she blurted. “I have wine. Do you want wine?” She decided not to wait for his response and bolted into the kitchen. She was uncorking the bottle as he slid up behind her.

“I probably shouldn’t,” Cooper said.

Abby popped the cork out and turned to face him. “In case the creepy bird killer shows up?”Understandable.

“Yeah. That, and…” Cooper trailed off, his eyes holding her gaze. “I don’t exactly trust myself around you when I’m drinking.”

She felt her balance teeter, so she leaned back against the counter, her hand squeezing the corkscrew like it was the holy grail. Abby decided that was most certainlynota joke. Her mouth went dry.

“Enchiladas, huh? Smells amazing.”

Cooper had changed the subject, thus allowing her to forget his provocative insinuation for the time being.

But the relentless throbbing between her thighs did not forget.

Abby spun back around, breaking eye contact. She pulled plates out of her kitchen cabinet. She rummaged through her silverware drawer for forks. She busied herself with mundane tasks until her body temperature decreased and her heart rate slowed down.

Cooper settled in at the kitchen table, leaning back in the chair and watching as she distributed the enchiladas onto their respective plates. “I haven’t had any authentic Abigail Stone cooking yet,” Cooper said with a smile.

Abby brought the plates to the table and took a seat across from him. “My grandmother and I would cook all the time. Monday nights were Mexican night.”

“It sounds like you two were really close.”

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