Page 28 of Catch
Miles looked up at me between bites of pie. “I mean, it’s blonde,” he said, casually waving at my messy, sleep-rumpled hair. “I like blonde.”
“My natural color is more like yours,” I replied, smiling at the way he was picking through his second piece of pie. “A darker, dirtier blonde.”
He leaned back in his chair and gave me that mischievous grin. “I like dirty too.”
I shook my head, fighting off the grin that threatened to break out.
Once I had realized sleep wasn’t going to win the battle, I got up, grabbed the apples and butter off the floor, and started baking. The rhythm of peeling and slicing apples, mixing the butter and sugar, was like second nature. My mom’s recipe came flooding back, and before I knew it, the pie was a masterpiece.
When Miles finally walked into the kitchen, the smell of fresh pie greeted him. So I slid a plate with a generous slice in front of him, along with a steaming cup of coffee, eager to see his reaction. Baking the pie was like writing a song. I wanted him to love it as much as I wanted the world to love my music. The thought of him enjoying it made my heart feel a little lighter.
“Get your mind out of the gutter,” I finally said, swatting at him playfully.
“You started it,” he whined, but I could hear the grin in his voice.
“Well,” I tried to get the conversation back on track before I did something crazy, “I ordered some hair color and I’m gonna try to do it myself today while you’re at work. So when you come home and see a darker blonde sitting on the couch, don’t shoot.”
“My gun or my…” he trailed off.
“Neither!” I laughed, throwing my hands up in surrender. “I’m nervous, though,” I admitted, shrugging. “I haven’t had a different hair color since they made me bleach it when I was eighteen.”
“The thing I hate more than anything,” he spoke softly, his voice turning serious, “is the fact that a group of people, probably men, told you, a grown woman, what she can and can’t do. Honestly, it's a really good thing I don’t know who these people are.”
I tried to laugh it off, but the words hit harder than I expected. I took a deep breath, looking down at my coffee for a second, gathering myself. Seeing him care so much meant more to me than he would ever know. Just being around him wasmaking me feel stronger, more confident in myself. I didn’t have to explain who those people were, becauseIknew. And I wasn’t going to let them, or anyone, hold me back anymore.
“Get dressed,” Miles said, his voice suddenly back to his usual playful self as he stood up from the table. He rinsed his plate and turned away from the sink. “You’re riding into town with me and bringing my jeep home.”
“Oh,” I teased, raising an eyebrow as I stepped closer to him, waggling my finger. “You sure do hate when those big, mean music moguls tell me what to do, but you have no problem making your own demands.”
He smirked, shaking his head like I was missing the point. “You’re the reason the jeep spent the night at the Piggly Wiggly, Lox. I’m only making the demands I need to make to fix the situation.” He grabbed my finger from the air, holding it for a second with a teasing smile. “And just for the record,” he added, “You like it.”
Chapter Fifteen
MILES
Loxleyand I had somehow slipped into this endless loop of playful flirting and teasing that was making me fucking giddy. I hadn’t exactly planned on waking her up at 1:00 a.m. to bake a pie, but there was something about the way she looked all sleepy-eyed and slightly confused that made it all worth it. Watching her get irritated, then amused as I goaded her into baking for me was... almost too much fun. But I hated that she had waited up for me. I should’ve come home earlier so she didn’t have to stay up, but I was honestly afraid that if I got home, I wouldn’t want to leave again.
The pie she made, though? Damn near perfect. The grated cinnamon sprinkled on top? I didn’t even have words. It reminded me of Grams’ apple pie, the kind that made you feel like you were home no matter where you were. More than the teasing, that pie had me thinking all kinds of things about Loxley that I really shouldn’t be letting myself feel.
But there was no harm in liking her, right? She was easy to like. Easy to talk to, flirt with, and mess around with. As long as I reminded myself that she was ahugestar and I was just a small-town cop, I was safe. No harm in enjoying the friendship we had, and I'd be crazy not to.
I pushed open the kitchen door, grinning like a fool after another day back on patrol. “Honey, I’m home,” I called, expecting her to bounce in with that same energetic smile she always had for me, but the house was deathly quiet. “Lox?”
I tossed my keys onto the hook, noting that the jeep keys were right where they should be. When I pulled into the driveway, I’d seen the jeep parked in its usual spot. So she wasn’t committing a felony—at least not grand theft auto.
At least not my car.
Again.
“Lox?” I called louder, my voice bouncing off the walls. The quiet was starting to make it feel like something was off. Hopefully she hadn’t ventured off into the woods or something because it was nearing dark and I wasn’t exactly Dora the Explorer. My cop instincts and training could take me far, but I didn’t typically venture down to the ravine with a monkey and a map.
“Lox?” I hollered again, this time walking down the hall toward her room. The door was wide open, and so was the bathroom door, which made me doubt she was in there. She would’ve answered me by now.
The next door was the gym. She hadn’t stepped foot in there since she started staying with me, so I figured the odds were low that she’d be working out. Still, I checked. And when my eyes landed on her, I had to hold onto the door frame to keep myself from falling over.
She was standing in front of the full-length mirror on the far left wall, dancing around in tight shorts and a sports bra. My Beats were over her ears, the music loud enough that I could hear faint hints of it, but not nearly enough to block out how badly my heart was hammering in my chest. I knew she couldn’t hear me coming, butGod, I couldn’t look away.
Her hair—holy shit. She’dwarnedme she was going to dye it, but seeing it in person? It went from platinum blonde to a darker, richer blonde, almost the exact shade of mine. It was pulled back into a ponytail, and every time she moved, it swayed over her back gently.
