Page 63 of Off the Hook

“I’d love that,” I said, while also wishing I hadn’t left my breakfast dishes in the sink.

“It’s time I get to knowyourworld.”

My world had changed the moment Coulter walked into it. I’d wanted to keep him in it ever since.

CHAPTER 31

COULTER

Riding in an unmarked police car was a little unsettling after everything I’d been through, but at least I was in the passenger seat and not the back. And it sure beat the roller coaster of emotions I’d been riding for weeks. I could hardly believe that it was finally over.

My heart was full of hope again, and butterflies stirred in my stomach–a mix of excitement and nervousness. Going to Faith’s house felt like a big deal. I tried not to overthink it, but I hoped it felt that way for her, too.

I squinted into the darkness, trying to remember if I’d ever been down this road before.

“Here we are,” Faith said as she turned into a paver stone driveway outside a coral-colored bungalow. “Home sweet home,” she said, swinging the car door open.

“Did you plant these?” I asked, pointing at the birds of parasite flowers on either side of the tiny porch while she unlocked the door.

“I did. They must be fairly robust plants, since they’re still alive.” She grinned, pushing the door open and reaching in to flip a light switch. “I’m afraid it’s a little messy.”

Scanning the open kitchen and living room, I noticed the thoughtful details in the coastal decor. The chenille pillows on the sofa were the same dark shade of blue as the strip in the curtains.

“This is a great little place. Good find,” I said, sliding my hand around her waist.

“It wasn’t easy, especially on a detective salary. Rents are just stupid here.”

“The Keys are getting harder every day for working class folks. I’m glad I bought my house when I did. It’s nearly doubled in value in five years.”

“Lucky you. Unless I hit the lotto, I’ll never be able to buy down here.”

“Lucky foryou…I have plenty of room for you,” I drew her into my side, smiling, “if you play your cards right.”

“And what does that entail?” she smirked.

“First off, you show me how to use this.” I released her waist and stepped over to the stove, picking up a stainless steel espresso pot.

“The Moka pot?” she asked. “You want coffee this late?”

“I’ve always wanted to learn to make authentic cafe con leche,” I grinned. “And besides, I plan on keeping you up all night.”

Faith gave me that sly smile of hers that always made my stomach flutter. “In that case I’ll have one too.” She snatchedthe Moka pot from my hands, unscrewing it to separate the chambers. “Technically, you should boil water first, then add it to the bottom part, but you can skip that step if you’re in a hurry.” She ran it under the tap to add water then screwed it back together, setting it on the stove.

“So you’re in a hurry to get to the keeping-you-up-all-night part?”

“Maybe…” she snickered, picking up a stainless steel canister off the counter and twisting the lid before she lowered her nose to take in the aroma. A smile spread on her lips while she pushed the jar under my nose. “Dark roast is essential. Finely ground.” Pressing with one thumb, she flipped open the lid of the espresso pot, and scooped two spoonfuls of coffee into the wire basket in the top. With the flick of her wrist, she turned on the element. “Heat on high until you hear it boiling, then take it down to medium low. When you hear it gurgle, it’s ready.”

Swinging open the refrigerator door, she pulled out a half gallon of milk. “Meanwhile, since I don’t have a steamer yet, I heat milk on the stove.” She filled a stainless steel pot that was shaped like a pitcher halfway and placed it on another stove eye. “You can whisk it for froth.” The wire whisk rapidly scraping the pot sounded like a percussion instrument.

Watching her whisk made me feel warm inside. “It’s quite an art.”

“My mom taught me when I was eight. I have it down to a science,” she beamed with pride. “Come here, I’ll show you. It’s all in the wrist, like casting a fishing line,” she slowed the movement down to show me and then passed me the whisk.

“Good,” she said, “now faster.”

“My brow raised. This is kinda sexy.”

“You’re kinda sexy doing it,” she winked, reaching around me to turn the heat down.

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