Page 77 of Four Steps to the Perfect Fake Date

Calvin did his best to remind himself of that fact—until Daphne’s expression softened and she said, “Be careful, Flint.”

“You think Bobby Troy’ll start tackling again?”

“I’m just saying, I’m injured enough for the both of us.”

Unable to resist, Calvin leaned forward and placed a kiss on the edge of the healing bruise on her cheek. “I’ll be careful.”

“Good,” she said, and gave him a nod that saidGo on.He watched her hobble toward the bathroom where her abandoned clothing was stashed; then he strode to his own office to double-check Bobby Troy’saddress. Once he’d confirmed that it matched the registered business address, Calvin grabbed his jacket and headed for the door.

Twenty minutes later, he was pulling up outside a run-down house in the central part of Fernley Island. The houses were relatively close together here, and they were all small and in varying states of disrepair. It was a far cry from where his mother and sister now lived, and it reminded him of his own neighborhood growing up.

He slowed as he approached the front of Bobby’s house, looking at the chain-link fence encircling the small yard, the various bits of rusting machinery, the children’s toys that looked to be at least a decade old. Overgrown weeds poked their heads out all along the gravel pathway, and the two concrete steps leading to the front porch were cracked right through.

After driving down to the end of the block, he turned and made a loop around the street, checking the back fence. Bobby Troy’s precious truck was parked on a patch of gravel at the back of the house, its hood up. Calvin lifted two fingers off the steering wheel in casual greeting when Troy glanced up from the work he was doing on the engine. A scowl marred Troy’s brow. He stood still as Calvin drove on and away, watching the whole time.

Calvin could park his vehicle and question Bobby, but that might tip him off. Better to wait until they had more information.

By the time he got back to the station, it was nearly time to pack up and go home. Daphne leaned against his door as soon as he sat down behind his desk, eyes questioning.

“He was home. Mean-mugged me as I drove past.”

She hummed, frowning.

Calvin combed a hand through his hair, watching the way the fading light from the overcast sky diffused over Daphne’s features. She was beautiful. And strong. And smart. And—

“Better to stay away,” she said. “Otherwise whoever owns the business will know we’re onto them.” Her eyes were far away, clearly having no idea of the direction of Calvin’s thoughts.

“Have you made any progress?”

Daphne tilted her head from side to side. “I’ve requested a copy of the original renovation quotes from Jerry Barela,” she said.

“Oh?”

“I was checking the paperwork over again, and the documents almost looked like they’d been tampered with. Thought it wouldn’t hurt to cross-check our copies against Barela’s records.”

“You’ve got a knack for this,” Calvin told her, feeling a rush of pride and—and—something else. Something that ran deep and fast like a river hurtling toward a fall over a cliff.

Daphne smiled. “I’m just thorough. Most people get annoyed with me.”

“Most people are dense.”

Laughing, Daphne tilted her head to the door. “You got more work to do, or should we head out?”

Calvin glanced at his desk, at the mounds of paperwork he had to get through. Then he stood. “Let’s head out. I’m starving.”

She rewarded him with a brilliant smile, and Calvin knew he was lost.

Chapter 28

The days passed. Daphne felt the urgency of the investigation, sensed the fact that they were closing in on some real answers. She still had a lot of work to do to prepare her report for the sheriff’s department, and most of it detailed the mismanagement and banal overspending she’d anticipated.

Everything except the failed renovation that lurked at the back of the building like a monster in the dark. Through that plastic-covered doorway was evidence of something that had gone wrong in this place. The more Daphne dug into the details, the more clearly she saw that something criminal had occurred.

Outside work, Daphne and Calvin circled each other. She’d backed away from him three times: after their kiss in the kitchen, then on the couch, and finally in his office. She knew, from the way he kept himself at a slight distance, that he was giving her space.

The problem was, she didn’t know if she wanted it. She fell asleep wondering if she’d taste his kiss again. She woke up needing to slide her hand between her legs to ease the pulsing ache he’d caused there. She stole glances at him every chance she got.

But taking that final step toward him required more courage than she possessed. It meant baring her soul in a way that terrified her. It meant trusting that he wouldn’t toss her aside when he got bored of her. If he got bored of her.

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