Page 8 of Pulse
“Eh, not really.”
“Want me to pick? I’m open-minded and levelheaded. I’d be good at this.”
He stretches his long legs out in front of him.
“Let me guess,” I say. “Option one is … working with the Brewers again?”
“Nope.”
“Okay. What about staying local with one of the Landrys?”
“Nope.”
I lick my lips. “You’ve been clear that you don’t want to return to the Laina Kelley contract. So I’m hoping it’s not that.”
The blaze of fire in his eyes tells me it’s exactly that.
Irritation sweeps through me on Troy’s behalf.
He has requested to be removed from the Kelley assignment more than once—and he doesn’t make many requests ordemands. Troy does whatever’s asked of him, and he does a damn good job. The fact that Ford is asking Troy to return pisses me off.
“I hope you told him no,” I say, my shoulders taut.
“Well, the other option isn’t exactly stellar.”
I set my mug down with a thud. “What was it?”
“He wants me to take a vacation.” Troy sighs.
I bite my tongue both literally and figuratively.
Troy has taken one sick day since I started working here, and if HR can be believed, he’s called in sick a total of three times while employed by the Landry family. He gives his all to this company; his loyalty to Ford knows no bounds. And it really pisses me off that Ford, in turn, puts Troy in this position.
Even if I think he needs a vacation, too.
“What are you going to do?” I ask, my voice even.
“I don’t fucking know. He told me he needs to know by Friday. So I guess I wait and hope another job comes up.”
“Want me to tell Ford that I refuse to work on the Kelley case? If we both say we won’t, what can he do?”
Troy’s eyes twinkle. The moment of vulnerability makes my heart swell.
“I’ll fight him.” I grin. “I know Ford was like special ops or whatever, but he hasn’t seen me with a baton. I was a majorette with the band in high school. I know how to work a stick.”
“Is that so?”
“You can’t possibly be surprised. I’m good at everything I do.”
My stomach clenches at the heat in his eyes. Goose bumps run down my arms, and I struggle to change the subject. My brain fries with the imagery of me and a certainstick.
Thankfully, Troy does me a favor and changes it for me.
“So who are you having drinks with on Friday?” he asks, nibbling his bottom lip.
“I told you, it’s none of your business.”
“Is it Theo?”
