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I followed him. “Hello, what the hell do you know about women’s fashion? Or what’s professional? You wear jeans and boots to the office every day.”
He rocked to a quick stop, and stared at his desk. A desk that was now sparkling clean. I’d dusted it this morning. Thankfully, Colt kept it pretty tidy because of said allergy to paperwork.
“What the fuck is that?” He stabbed a finger at the new object on the corner of his desk.
I tried not to notice his finger, or the rest of his hands. I’d noted before that Colt had amazing hands—large, strong, with long fingers.
“That is a plant. To brighten your office.”
His head sliced my way. Oh, his scowl was in fine form. I’d developed a rating system for Mr. Grumpy Bounty Hunter’s scowls. Level 1 was his resting scowl. Level 2, he was faintly pissed off at something. Level 3, there was trouble brewing, so watch out. Level 4, he was pissed off and ready to let you know about it. Level 5, batten down the hatches, because he was going to blow.
Tapping my chin, I assessed that his scowl was a 3.5.
“I don’t want a plant.”
“Sure, you do.”
“I don’t.”
I pouted. “It’s a gift, big guy. And it’s too late now.”
He sighed. “Fine. But I’ll kill it.”
“That’s why I got you a cactus.” I turned the little pot around. It was painted in bright colors. “Plus, it matches your spiky temperament. You guys are twinsies.”
His blue eyes narrowed.
I smiled. “Looks like you need this as well.” I pulled the folded paper out of my pocket.
Colt took the brown origami bear and gave me a bland look. This one was on all fours, looking like it was ready to go in for the kill. Sometimes I just did bear faces—all with varying grumpy looks.
My mom had taught me origami. I loved slipping away from everything for a few precious seconds to create something bright and fun.
I made Colt bears because he was grumpy like a bear. He pulled open his desk drawer, and I caught a glimpse of his growing paper bear collection as he dropped it in.
“I know you just got back, but I have a local job for you. Should be quick.” I hitched my hip on the corner of his desk.
“What job?”
“Lenny Bridges skipped bail.”
Colt rolled his eyes. “Again?”
I nodded.
“He’ll be half drunk on his stool at his favorite bar.”
“Yep.” Lenny was nothing if not consistent.
“Fine.” Colt raked a hand through his hair. “It should only take me an hour.”
That’s when I heard light, quick steps out in the front office.
A pretty girl of seven burst in. She smiled at me. “Hi, Macy. Iloveyour red top.”
“Thanks, gorgeous girl.”
Then Daisy Fury whirled. “Daddy, you’re home!”
