Page 2 of Snow One Like You

At least my pests included a bribe. It’s impossible to turn down the offer of having my paperwork done for me for a month. As much as I didn’t want to come, regardless of the incentive, I’m glad I did.

She’s captivating, even with her shock at the revelation of my career. I’ve encountered many reactions to learning I’m with the police – fear, surprise, defeat, attraction, to the badge, not me, and so forth. Hers, however? Disappointment.

That’s new.

Well, sort of. My parents’ response was along the same line, though theirs manifested as resignation and acceptance. They’ve come to terms with it after their numerous attempts at changing my mind failed, finally realizing this is what I was meant to do.

“How fortuitous,” she mutters, no doubt in regards to my career.

I grin. Not at the word, but her delivery of it and the tone giving it. Two of those things is not like the other. “My parents would disagree,” I inform her, unsure why I’m sharing such personal things. I don’t talk about this with anybody. My sister, Brewster, knows, of course, but other than them, I never discuss it.

Brewster did what I couldn’t, or didn’t want to, do and became a doctor. In her defense, though, it just happened to be what she’d dreamed of being, so that worked out. Dad and Mom, while ecstatic of that fact, couldn’t simply take the win. They wanted both of us to have those initials behind our names. Because we’re little shits, Brewster and I might have some fun with that when we’re together. I call her Dr. Wells and she calls me Non-Dr. Wells. An inside joke that never fails to bring us joy. “What is it you do?” Look at us, getting to know each other.

“I’m one of many,” she raises her hand to include those with her, “minions that cater to our boss’ whims.” I quirk a brow. “Err, that have the honor of assisting him.”

I laugh at her correction, stating, “I have a feeling the first was more accurate.”

“I plead the fifth,” she hedges.

“Is your boss by any chance a lawyer?” I’m teasing, yet her reaction to the mere thought of working for an attorney, that being an almost invisible shudder, has me curious.

“Bite your tongue,” she declares.

“Will you kiss and make it better if I do?” It just comes out. I couldn’t stop it even if I wanted to. Now I just have to hope she isn’t offended. Thankfully, she winks, silently letting me know she wouldn’t be opposed to it. She’s also not agreeing, which means I have my work cut out for me. I’m okay with that. She’s worth it. Veering back to her original reason for talking to me, I ask, “So, what’s the favor?”

She blinks and I have no clue how the hell it’s adorable, but it is. I see when she remembers and chuckle at the fact I had such an effect on her. Glad to know I’m not alone in this. “I need to know the time.” I stare at her, speechless at the realization it was initially for something so simple, then laugh my fool head off.

“It’s not that funny,” she grumbles. At her response, I laugh harder. “I’m gonna turn around now.” I stop her, placing my hand on her arm, using no pressure so she doesn’t feel as if she has no choice. She peers at me in question.

“I’m sorry,” I tell her, meaning it. “I didn’t expect that, so it took me by surprise.”

Clearly curious, she wants to know, “What were you expecting?”

“You’d ask if I come here often. I’d say no. You’d then inquire what brought me tonight. I’d reply that it was fate.”

Peering around me, she glances at the group I just abandoned. “Is one of them named Fate?”

I point at the ringleader of this excursion. “That’s Nate. Close enough?”

She pretends to think. “Fate’s lesser known, though not less powerful cousin?”

Nathan Moretti – Nate to his buddies, pain in the ass to me, his best friend and partner – notices us looking at him. As if in agreement, like he knows what we’re discussing, he raises his glass of beer in the air. “Maybe it has been Nate this whole time and people mistakenly believed otherwise.”

“That bitch has taken the credit for everything,” she points out, playing along. “Ooh. Has she been impersonating a police officer this whole time?”

“Technically, an argument could be made for that, but I think the case would be thrown out.”

“She’ll get away with it,” she sighs.

“It happens,” I admit. “However, most criminals can’t resist doing it again, so they will get caught.”

“And you always catch them?”

“I do have a pretty high closure rate, but some do elude authorities for quite a while, if not forever.” I shrug as if I’m okay with this, except I’m not. I hate the idea of justice not being served. It’s why I became a cop. Dad had come home from a long day at the hospital, as they all seemed to be, upset due to losing a patient. The person responsible for hurting her had a rich daddy that continually bailed him out regardless of the charges and he’d gotten behind a wheel, drunk off his ass, ran a red light and hit the victim head on. He’d survived. She didn’t.

I know that’s an extreme example, but the outcome remains. If he’d been behind bars where he belonged, that woman would’ve lived. I know gray areas exist, that not everything is black and white, but I have yet to encounter a situation that has changed my mind. I’m not saying I won’t, merely that I haven’t. “Speaking of forever,” she replies, seeming not to want to comment in regards to my statement, “where are we currently at in the span of time?”

I smirk, surreptitiously checking her wrist for a watch, and her finger for a ring. She notices the former, but not the latter, which might be better for my health. “I’m afraid I can’t give you that information.”

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