Page 31 of Off the Hook

“I’ve taken up gardening, but somehow I’ve managed to kill half the plants already.”

Laughing, I held up my thumb. “Mine’s not green either.” I waved toward my barren pea gravel yard. “I don't evenbother with plants. Lucky for me, killing fish is part of the job.” After we both had a laugh, I asked, “Do you like to fish?”

Faith scrunched her cute little nose and bit her lip, like she was embarrassed to admit it. “I haven’t been since I was little. My uncle took me bridge fishing with my cousins in Miami a few times before they moved to Chicago.”

Flustered by the feeling she stirred in my stomach, I forced my eyes from her lips and met her gaze. “So you’ve never been fishing in the Keys?”

Faith shook her head. “Nope.”

“Well, we need to change that!” If she wasn’t investigating me anymore, maybe that would be allowed.

Her lips curled into a wry little smile as she asked, “Are you offering me the VIP treatment?”

That was a loaded question, but I decided to keep it mostly clean. “But of course,” I smiled, “complete with private lessons.”

“Deal,” she agreed, which gave me a happy twinge. “I need to get out on the water more. Kind of silly living here and not doing ocean things.”

“For real. What made you move to the Keys?”

Faith sighed, staring into the darkness. “Most of my mom’s family is still in Cuba, and my dad died when I was a little girl, so we were kind of on our own in Miami. When my mom finally remarried and moved to Arizona, there was nothing keeping me there. It never really felt like home anyway,” she said with a tinge of sadness. “Even after I joined the force, I never felt like I fit in. So when this job opportunity came up, I jumped on it. I needed a change.”

“That was pretty brave of you,” I acknowledged with a nod. “It can’t be easy starting over. Made any friends here yet?”

She shook her head. “Not really. It’s hard to make friends when you’re the new cop in town. Most people keep their distance.”

I chuckled. “The Keys were built by misfits, people who like to bend the law. It’s pretty much the Smuggler’s Cove code to keep your distance from the cops. It’s in our DNA.”

“What about the Sheriff?” she asked. “Isn’t he your dad’s best friend?”

“Waylan’s an anomaly. He understands the misfit mentality. People trust him.”

“He defended you from the start.” Her warm smile spread wider when her stomach rumbled, and we both laughed.

“Sounds like you’re hungry. How about I make us some dinner?”

“You cook?” she asked, surprised.

“Mom insisted all her boys be able to take care of themselves,” I said, standing up. “Cooking, cleaning, laundry– she made sure we learned the basics. Come on, I’ll whip up something.” I hopped off the boat and offered her my hand. “I hope you like fish.”

She took my hand to steady herself as she stepped onto the dock. “I love fish. But don’t you ever get tired of it?”

“Nope. There’s a million ways to cook it, so I like to switch it up.”

Her eyebrows raised as her hand drifted back to her side, leaving mine feeling empty. “I’m impressed.”

“Do you like to cook?” I asked.

“I don’t like to cook for myself much, but I do it.”

“Yeah, it’s way more fun to cook for someone. I’m glad you could stay,” I called over my shoulder as she followed me up to my house. “I wasn’t expecting company, so don’t mind the mess.” I twisted the knob, pushing the door open before stepping aside to let her in ahead of me.

She looked around my little bungalow. “Looks pretty clean to be honest…”

I could tell what she was thinking but didn’t say. “For a dude?”

“Yeah. I guess your mother really did raise you right.”

“Yes, she did,” I grinned, reaching into the fridge to pull out the ingredients: parmesan cheese, Japanese bread crumbs, a key lime and butter for the sauce.

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