Page 85 of Puzzle for Two

“Angry? Not afraid or—?”

Jordan snorted. “Alton didn’t know enough about people to understand when he should be afraid.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Flint’s SUV was in its usual place toward the back of the shopping center parking lot.

Zach parked beside it, got out, and headed across the lot to Davies Detective Agency. What hewantedto do was talk to Flint, but he couldn’t help thinking that ever since that morning, Flint had been transmitting very mixed messages.

Well, no. Actually, until Brooke had chimed in with her theories of what Flint might or might not be feeling, Zach had felt he understood perfectly what was going on with Flint. Flint was hoping Zach wouldn’t make too much of what had happened between them the night before. Clearly, Flint was a guy who enjoyed playing the field and, just as clearly, he had recognized that Zach…was not.

And Zach made no apologies for that. It was true. His problems with Ben hadn’t stemmed from boredom with monogamy or domesticity. He liked regular companionship and reliable sex. He liked having someone to share the fun and help shoulder the worries. He liked teamwork and partnership and private jokes and shared memories. His problems with Ben had ultimately been Ben.

That said, it wasn’t like Zach was so naïve or so desperate that he mistook one night of sex for the start of something permanent. Or the start of anything at all.

True, he wouldn’t have minded if it had been the start of something. He had woken up, literally, to the idea of seeing what might happen. The night before had been kind of a revelation. Flint had been so funny and tender in bed, so, well, generous, that Zach couldn’t help seeing him in a new light.

Well, even that wasn’t completely accurate, because he had already started to see Flint in a new light from the minute he had, albeit reluctantly, agreed to provide Zach with backup the night Zach dined with Alton at Pinch.

There was something refreshing, even relaxing, about Flint’s honesty and directness. Flint was not a guy who played games. And after years of Ben’s (probably unconscious but real all the same) emotional manipulation, it was a relief to be around a guy who said what he meant and meant what he said.

Flint had allowed himself to be vulnerable the night before—they both had—so Zach had been disappointed, maybe a little hurt, but not surprised by Flint’s retreat the next morning. He’d understood that Flint maybe wanted a little breathing room. He had figured if he showed Flint he was more than okay with taking things one step at a time, Flint would work through his wariness.

But then Brooke had chipped in with all that talk about Flint maybe having been interested in Zach for a long time.

What did that really mean?

And if Brooke was right—a very big if, going by prior experience—that cast a different light on Flint’s retreat. Maybe it turned out that Flint enjoyed the chase more than the, er, capture. Maybe the reality of a night with Zach hadn’t lived up to expectation. Maybe Flint’s interest didn’t stretch beyond a very occasional tumble in the hay (or whatever bedding he preferred). He seemed pretty involved with Detective Schneider, so…

Part of what drew Zach to Flint was how forthright Flint was, but now Flint was suddenly, uncharacteristically reserved, and Zach was confused and unsure about how to proceed.

It seemed best to leave it up to Flint as to whether they proceeded at all.

As far as the case went, they were supposedly still working it together, but he hadn’t heard a word from Flint since that morning. After Flint had canceled their lunch in order to have lunch with Detective Schneider, he had gone radio silent.

It was great having Flint’s experience to rely on, but Zach was making progress without that extra help. He felt confident he was going to solve this thing, with or without Flint.

That’s what he told himself anyway as he strode across the parking lot. Thin, half-hearted sunshine barely took the chill off the afternoon. The rain had stopped the night before, but pond-sized puddles dotted the asphalt, offering watery reflections of the tall palm trees and darkening clouds. Another storm was coming, following on the heels of the last.

He reached the office, pushed open the door, and halted in the doorway.

Flint was right there, standing in the reception area, laughing with Brooke.

Having just delivered a long lecture to himself on how much he didn’t need Flint in either a personal or professional capacity, the shock of delight at finding Flint waiting for him felt a little out of proportion.

Flint grinned in welcome. “Hey there, Slick!”

Zach turned a withering gaze on Brooke, but Brooke, per usual, remained unwithered. “Flint and I agree. Ransford is not our guy.”

Off-balance, Zach picked up on the one thing he was sure of. “Ourguy?”

Brooke’s chin shot up in defiance. “That’s right, Zee.Ours. This business is half mine.”

This unexpected rebellion caught him off-guard.

“I know that. I never said—”

Technically, the company was one third Brooke’s. Their mother was also one-third owner of Davies Detective Agency, but their mother wanted nothing to do with the business. She had been pushing Zach to sell since Pop had passed.

---