Page 94 of Floodgates

“Oh yeah?”

The smile he gave me was gorgeous and made his eyes glitter as he gently slid a hand around the side of my neck. “I like Kvetch in Crocker-Amazon too. I always get the lobster mac ’n’ cheese or shrimp and grits.”

“I’ll take you over to the Swan Oyster Depot when we get home.”

“It’s a date,” I said, grinning, hands on his hips.

“So you were hungry is what you’re telling me.”

“Yeah.”

He sighed suddenly, both hands on my face. “There are footprints out there in the mud.”

“Oh yeah? Big ones, little ones, what?”

“Big.”

“Okay, so, a man.”

“Yeah,” he said, and I heard him purposely trying to infuse his tone with normalcy.

“I saw someone at the window—freaked me out.”

“I bet. I’m sorry I wasn’t here with you. It won’t happen again.”

“You were doing your job.”

“My job is you,” he said, drawing me back close. I curled my arms up under his and put my hands on his shoulders as I rested my head on his collarbone. “I’ve been waiting so long to get you; I don’t wanna lose you now.”

I put my nose up to his throat and inhaled his warm male scent, and he chuckled, which I felt more than heard. I almost purred.

People got closer, Breckin and his family crowding toward us, probably wanting to talk. Cord didn’t want that, as evidenced by him pulling away from me only to tug me after him.

“Come over here and siddown,” he grumbled, but I heard the smile in his voice as he led me to the great room and took a seat beside me on the couch. “So what was Breckin doing down here with you?” he asked casually.

“Convincing me to take him back,” I said as seriously as possible.

As he furrowed his brows, I snorted out a laugh.

“These are questions important to the investigation; I would appreciate your cooperation and truthfulness.”

“Yes, soon-to-be ex-inspector.”

He growled at me.

I cleared my throat. “He wanted to yell at me about you.”

“I’m sorry?”

“He doesn’t like me all over you.”

“Well, he better fuckin’ get used to it.”

“Like it matters,” I soothed him, reaching up to trace my fingers over the stubble-covered jaw. “As if you care.”

“I don’t,” he admitted, smiling shyly, seemingly pleased with me.

“Something else.”