Page 1 of Snow One Like You

Chapter One

Snow

November 14th…

“I need you to do me a solid,” I say to the stranger.

He turns around, looks me up and down – with approval, I might add – and asks, “Pretend to be your boyfriend?”

“Jump to conclusions much?” I scoff. Yeah, I liked what I saw, too, but that isn’t what this is about. Plus, the fact he thinks I don’t already have one is kind of wrong. I mean, I don’t, but still.

“It was a logical conclusion,” he defends himself, lifting his hand to indicate where we are. I’ll give him that. It is a club, and I have no doubt a few, probably more, of the patrons are seeking a hookup.

I, however, am here under duress. My coworkers blackmailed me into coming here, holding my cell hostage unless I agreed. And keeping it until afterward lest I try to leave before they’re ready for me to.

Considering my pickpocketing skills aren’t what they used to be, I’m stuck.

For now.

“It was illogical,” I correct him.

“My apologies,” he states, standing to bow at the waist before returning to his seat. “How may I be of service?”

I will not giggle at his ability to pull off polite snark. My lips, the traitors, do twitch though, appreciating it. It’s quite the talent and he deserves to know that, but I’m still perturbed at his assumption.

“Could you tell me the time?” His eyes widen comically and I feel a bit smug at the proof I’ve shocked him.

“Did not see that coming,” he mutters, shaking his head with a grin.

“I live to please.”

“Really?” He asks, waggling his brows as his tone turns suggestive.

“No,” I reply.

“You’re breaking my heart.”

“You have one?”

“Not any more. You stole it.”

“Maybe you should call the cops.” This is actually kind of fun.

“I am the cops.” Until it isn’t.

My parents will be so disappointed. All that training, all those years teaching me how to spot the police, and yet here I am being charmed by one of them.

**Calvin**

I throw some money on the table, enough to cover my drinks and my friends’, telling them, “The next round is on me.” It’s the least I can do as they talked me into coming, my preference being to go home, sit in my recliner, and relax.

I’d rather show them they were right then tell them. If I say it out loud, I’d be tempted to shoot them all because they won’t stop bragging about it. And my captain frowns upon that, so…

As it is, their knowing looks as I shift my chair, taking my focus from our table and those sitting at it to the captivating stranger, will lead to numerous questions I don’t feel like answering. Mainly because I have no idea what I’d say. Being a detective, my job relies on my brain seeing patterns, deciphering clues, and instinct. Only the third is currently cooperating.

There’s just something about her, as cliché as it sounds, that captured my attention from the second she walked in.

Yes, I clocked her that long ago. Her attire matched that of her companions. Her attitude did not. Like me, she does not want to be here. Chances are her coworkers, their professional clothing dictates that’s what they are to her, guilted her in to coming as mine did me.

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