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“What kind of case?”
“The kind that’s none of your business.”
My lips almost curved until I realized that smiling wouldn’t improve my grotesque appearance. Meaning, his offer likely had nothing to do with him hitting on me. Unless he liked his women all beaten up. “My mother taught me to never accept a ride from a stranger.”
“Hardly strangers, given you know my name and where to find me. So, one last time, do you want a ride?”
My lips parted, readying to utter an emphatic, “no.” Only an idiot would accept a ride from a cop. Still, I didn’t have many options unless I stole someone’s charging cord and got enough juice to order a rideshare. The effort involved daunted. “You sure? I’m probably out of your way.”
“You are.” He didn’t deny it. “But you look like you could use a break.”
“Aren’t you still on the work clock?”
“Yes. And your attack is one of my cases.”
The relegation to a duty he had to perform soured me.
Why? Why did I care? Yes, he was cute. About my age, with sandy blond hair that either hid the gray well or meant he had none. His age only became apparent in the deeper creases around his eyes and inset within his forehead.
Broad shoulders in an open jacket and dress shirt that didn’t appear to stretch over his abdomen butdidget tight around the top part of his chest, the top two buttons undone.
I really should stop staring and say something. “Are you a perv?”
Blunt, and yet being direct sometimes worked best. Catch them unaware.
“I am not going to molest you on the way home, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Says you.”
“I have a dashcam we can use to record the trip.”
Sounded great in theory until I remembered one, how I looked, and two… “I don’t want everything I say to be recorded.” Because what if something stupid slipped out? I could get awkward when flustered. And right now counted.
“Are you coming or not?” Other men might have said this with much impatience, but Detective Walker remained steady and oozed trustworthiness.
I had to remind myself that The Jerk hadn’t started out that way. I’d gotten a good twenty years out of him. Many of them dull, in retrospect. Yet, I shared some of that blame.
All that to say, my man-dar worked perfectly fine. The Jerk and I had just grown apart. If my intuition said the detective wasn’t an asshole, then I should listen to it—and stop eyeballing him as a potential dick.
Since being single, I had a tendency to filter every comment and action made by an attractive male into a few categories. Flirting, not flirting, orgasm potential, or run away—fast and hard.
The detective fell into the bad-idea category, but I needed a ride home. Before I could overthink it even more, I rose and said, “I’d love a ride.”
I hadn’t meant for it to emerge salaciously. A good thing he didn’t pick up on it.
“I’m parked a few minutes’ walk away.”
His idea of a few minutes happened at a fast clip. With my bruised body, I managed a lopsided hitching gait at best. It led to him shortening and slowing his stride.
“Nice day,” he remarked, as I wished I had sunglasses to choke out the bright sunlight.
I’d been working a lot at night with the fluorescents on. In the daytime, I sometimes opened the large bay door; however, the sun never hit it the right way to truly light up the inside.
All to say, I might be part vampire. I certainly wanted to suck on the guy by my side.
It was the last thing I should be thinking of, and yet the only thing strong enough to distract me from the discomfort of my body. I could have used a massage.
I eyed the detective’s hands. Big, but the fingers didn’t appear too callused. A glance farther down showed his feet a good size. Promising. The step off the curb, and the ensuing jab of pain after, shoved that thought right out of my head.
