Page 28 of Bears Behaving Badly
Ah, someone forgot to engage his filter this morning. Why do I find that so endearing?
David misinterpreted her silence, because he added, “I’m not fishing. I get that you’ve got no interest in…you know.”
What? I know? I don’t think I know. What is he talking about? Good God, this is exactly like being back in high school, which I DID NOT LOVE the first time around.
“But you’re really…you know.” David probably thought he was clarifying, which was as annoying as it was adorable. “So I was wondering why you’re not seeing anybody.”
“Why aren’t you?” she countered.
He shrugged. “The job. The hours. It’s hard to meet new people, and I’ve got no interest in Mate or Tamer or Shifter Date.”
“Well, there you go. We’re both in a committed relationship with a faceless government bureaucracy, and we’ve got little or no time to cheat on it even if we wanted to, which we don’t.”
He laughed. “Fair enough.”
She considered ignoring everything she had learned about him and everything she had told herself and just asking him out, then reminded herself that (1) there were more important things to concentrate on, (2) his disinterest was plain, and (3) she was terrible at asking men out. It always ended up sounding like a sales pitch. And not for something vital, but something like a terrific set of mixing bowls. Something you immediately regretted purchasing, like an extended warranty on an electric toothbrush. “Oooh, here it is. Turn, turn!”
“Wonderful. I love back-seat drivers.”
“David, you missed the turn!”
“I’mmakingthe turn, Christ, stop screaming.”
Lund lived—hadlived—in a luxe apartment in the Layette Loft building in Saint Paul’s Lowertown neighborhood. The area was justly famous for its artists’ quarter, breweries, and warren of hipster lairs. “Oooh, Pazzaluna’s right across the street! Excellent gnocchi and lamb chops. Maybe there’ll be time after to grab a sandwich.”
“It’s not even 8:00 a.m. And they don’t serve breakfast or lunch.”
“Don’t give me problems, David, give me solutions. Maybe we’ll try a deli instead. See? See how I immediately found a solution? You could learn a lot from me.”
“I’ll never deny it,” he replied, admirably straight-faced.
Traffic was annoying, which was to be expected during morning rush hour, but David quickly found a parking space out front.
“Do you have meter money? Because I don’t have meter money.” She snatched up her purse, rooted around. “I have four quarters. No. Six!”
“Annette, what year do you think it is?” He shut off the engine and pulled out his S metro card. It worked like any transit card in any meter in the state, but the info went into IPA’s database for billing and payroll. Theoretically, they were efficient time-savers. Realistically…
“Those never work for me. Well, sometimes they don’t work. Or I get it mixed up with my library card—they’re the same color!”
“There’s also an app.”
“It’s just easier to dump a bunch of quarters in a meter. Okay, okay, enough with the cross-examination!”
“I didn’t—”
“Fine, you’re right, Imighthave a smidge of Luddite in me. I didn’t start texting until two years ago.”
He smothered a laugh as they headed past the pale pillars and up the steps to Lund’s building. “You know you’re not being cross-examined, right?”
“I hate when you ask questions that aren’t actually questions,” she grumbled. “Why are you smiling? Before yesterday, I didn’t know your face could do that.”
“I like working with you,” he replied simply, and if she wasn’t careful, she’d blush like a virginal schoolgirl. Oh. Wait. She was. Blushing. Not virginal.Virginity doesn’t grow back, right? No matter how long the dry spell?“I’ve been working with IPA for a while, but you and I’ve never had to work a case together.”
“Sadly, this week your lucky streak came to an abrupt end.”
“I don’t see it that way. Not at all.”
Aw!“Well. I like working with you, too. Now let’s go visit a horrific crime scene together.”
