Page 76 of Walking the Edge


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She stared at the cut on his cheekbone. “What’s between you and Jack, anyway?”

“He only puts up with me because Kurt gave me the job.”

“Nonsense, and you know it. He’s your brother. He loves you.”

“I don’t want to talk about that.” Mitch dropped his fresh clothes on the foot of the bed and sat beside her. Tiger immediately stepped onto his thigh and nuzzled his hand.

She tucked her knees against her chest, taking comfort from the soft fleece of her old sweats. “When are you leaving?”

Did she still have foot-in-mouth disease? She tugged the collar of her shirt higher around her red-hot neck. “I mean, I’m just curious. It’ll be strange knowing you’re not here.”

“There’s no one else to help Jack. If Hal weren’t recuperating, he’d be going so I could stay with you.”

Stay with you. His words wrapped her in a fuzzy blanket.

She touched his arm. “It’s important for you to be part of the team. But I have a request. If it’s not too late when you get back, can we go to my office so I can check any messages on Bea’s phone line?”

“I thought you were checking on your business with your cell.”

“The toll-free calls, but I bought a special phone so Bea could take the job. She doesn’t understand too well on a normal phone, but this special phone doesn’t have voicemail. The callers have to record messages, and I have to listen in person to her answering machine.”

“You want to go tonight?” Mitch scratched his bristly jaw. “It’s the Bacchus parade tonight.”

That krewe didn’t enter the Quarter but always created a lot of congestion. She crossed her arms and tapped a finger on her lips. “We could park in a tow-away zone.”

He stared at her as if she’d lost her mind.

She shrugged. “We already know the drill on getting the truck back.”

“That’s out of the question.” He lifted her hand with the care he might use to handle a china figurine. Her breath ran out of gas somewhere in her windpipe. He spread her fingers against his, his voice solemn. “I need to tell you something.”

Her stomach clenched. What could be more serious than arresting a vicious felon?

He moved closer and cupped her chin, every action precise and deliberate. Making her feel so cherished.

“You ready, Mitch?” A male voice boomed through the bedroom’s closed door.

“Give me five more minutes.” Mitch urged Tiger off his lap. “I got to get out of here.”

“Wait.” Cath touched his thigh. “What did you want to tell me?”

“We’ll go to your office later. Together. A couple of hours isn’t going to make that much difference?” He raised his eyebrow.

“I doubt it. That sounds good.” She smiled, her heart warming. He would be exhausted when he got home, but he still wanted to do this for her. “I have no place else to go, anyway.”

“Knowing you, you could think of somewhere.”

“I promise to stay home.” She crossed her heart.

He twisted open the doorknob and flashed a grin over his shoulder. “Get Hal to give you some ice for the bruise on your back, if you want.”

She sagged against the pillows. He’d been going to kiss her. She’d wanted him to kiss her. She liked Mitch. A lot. Even though she’d relished his passion last night, his intensity scared her. And her heart couldn’t handle another disaster.

A few minutes after Mitch’s boots clomped down the hall, a knock sounded. She opened the door and came face to face with a scruffy-bearded Hal, dark hair in disarray, popcorn bowl caught to his chest.

“You want to watch the news with me? There might be some parade shots.” He extended the bowl, and the smell of the melted butter wafted over her.

Was this Hal Guidry’s version of accepting her apology?

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