Page 21 of The Proposal Pact
Sophie shrugs like she didn't care either way, and for some idiotic reason, that bothers me. Okay, maybe it's indigestion from all that coffee. Yeah, that's it.
“Then, hard way it is. Now, would you mind hurrying up? We only have like three minutes before overtime starts.”
“How come you’re so into hockey?”
She quirks an eyebrow at me. “Again, are you going to buy me that drink?”
I purse my lips. “Again, no.” I have no idea why I’m even bothering to ask her all these questions. It’s not like I’m ever interested in people of any kind, yet for some reason I can’t keep my mouth shut.
“Then there’s your answer.”
Thankfully, we’re back at the station before I get any more brilliant questions in my head and Sophie jumps out of the car, still clutching her jersey like it’s about to fall off her body…okayyy.
I’ve known this little menace for all of twenty minutes and already I understand that there is no logic to her behavior. It’s pure chaos and crazy. Two things I despise with all of my heart. I head inside and she follows, bouncing on her feet.
“Well, who do we have here?” Marsha’s voice greets us. “This doesn’t look like an arrest since she’s not in handcuffs.”
“Psh, Sheriff Hot Asshole wishes he could put those on me,” Sophie snorts, and I happen to agree.
In more ways than one.
“Sheriff Hot Asshole, huh?” Marsha seems way too amused, and I start pushing Sophie toward the breakroom before they can get all cozy in here and find new ways to torture me.
“Sorry, Marsha, no time for chit chat. We have a game to catch.” I stuff the girl into the room and hand her the remote. “Here, have at it and let me know when it’s done. I’ll take you back home.”
She snatches the remote out of my hand without saying another word and promptly finds the right channel. It looks like the game is just about to resume, and I let out a sigh of relief because I just know if she’s miss it, I wouldn’t hear the end of it.
Leaving Sophie to watch hockey, I return to my desk where I still have a fuckton of files to go through.
“So?” Marsha starts before I get a chance to sit down. “Want to tell me what’s going on?”
Just at that second, a string of colorful curses comes from the breakroom. My gaze swivels from Marsha to the door and back to Marsha again. “No.” I give her my favorite answer and pick up the next file I need to go through.
She chuckles under her breath but leaves me to it.
Not two minutes later, the shouting resumes. “Yes! Yes! Yes! Go, baby! You got this!” A pregnant pause and then, “NOOOO! You fucker! Can’t you just move out of the way so we can score and call it a day?”
After another wild shriek, I snap the file I was looking through shut and sit back in my seat, my arms crossed as I glare at the door. People are trying to work here! Can’t she keep it down? There’s too much of her everywhere.
A second later, Sophie flings the door open, holding her hands up with a joyous expression on her face.
Jesus, you’d think she just won a fucking lottery, not watch some hockey. “We WON!”
“That’s it? That is all you needed to watch?”
“Mm-hmm.” She brings her hand to her mouth and that’s when I notice the bottle.
“Is that beer?”
Sophie picks up the bottle to her eye-level, as if inspecting it. “Technically, it’s cider, but sure.” She shrugs. “We can go with beer.”
“Where the fuck did you get a beer at a police station?”
“I brought it from home, duh.” Suddenly, it clicks. She was holding her jersey…
“Jesus Christ, you smuggled beer into a police station?”
“Yep!”
