Someone like Daisy.
After all, they no longer worked together. A date wouldn’t violate all those restrictions he had in place as a good boss.
That would also suck, but not for the same reason.
Actually, I was a little surprised by how bad the thought bothered me. Rhys was attractive, definitely. I would go so far as to say he was probably the hottest man I’d ever seen in real life—including the far-from-ugly men in that room.
I mean, the muscles. The tattoos. His arrogant swagger and the way he walked likeitwas heavy. His amazing hair with the subtle streaks of gray. The fashion vibe that mixed grunge with sophisticated biker. The list went on and on. And at the top, by a landslide, were those dimples. I would have to be an idiot to not see the appeal.
And Lieutenant Anthony Oscar hadn’t raised an idiot.
Well, not an idiot daughter. The sons were a different matter.
So, yes, Rhys was hot.
Yes, I was intrigued by the way he took charge.
Yes, that was fueled by some of the stuff Daisy had shared about what he liked—stuff I’d thought about too much.
And, yes, I liked our banter and his exasperation with me.
Which was also part of the issue with my irrational reaction. He seemed to tolerate me at best. Jury and Haze both flirted, though I was fairly certain that was as default as the former’s RBF—resting broody face. On the other hand, Rhys seemed more irritated at me than anything.
And honestly? I couldn’t fault him for being unhappy about having a shadow.
He’d never said anything particularly complimentary, either. The only thing he’d ever said about my appearance was that I dressed like an old lady.
If the usual caliber of women he hooked up with were on Daisy’s level, I couldn’t fault him there, either.
Not that I was some gargoyle. I might not be everyone’s fantasy girl, but I knew I was pretty.
Different strokes for different folks, and all that.
“Didn’t have a date,” Rhys said, and I had no clue if he meant thatperiodor if his qualm was simply with labeling it as a date. That might’ve been too official for his regulations.
I might not have known what was happening with my stupid reaction, but I did know myself well enough not to want to hear any more details.
“Okay, no mice talk,” I said, getting us back on track. “But that still doesn’t answer my question.”
“Maybe,” Glitch answered, again keeping it cool even as he lied. “I won’t know till I dig in.”
As badly as I wanted to hear whatever had Glitch’s motorcycle in a tizzy, they weren’t going to say anything more around me. Allowing them to talk without me put it out there in the group. That greatly increased my chances of overhearing something at some point. Not ideal, but a better option than forcing it until everyone clammed up. I also found myself needing a break to squash whatever was happening in my head.
I was vaguely aware of someone’s phone beeping as I inspected the hole in the wall.
“Shit,” Judge said. I looked over to see what the problem was, only to find his eyes on me. “I forgot to tell you that O wants to meet you. She’s at the bar.”
“Why did she text you if she’s right at the bar?” I asked. My cop-brain jumped to the possibility of it being a trap in retaliation for the possibly discovered tracking device.
But the sweet smile on Judge’s face was far from malicious or conniving. “’Cause she’s comfortable, and there’s no way she’s moving except when she has to pee a million times an hour.” His grin grew. “Her words.”
Since he’d mentioned a pregnancy, that made sense.
More than that, the timing was impeccable. I could’ve kissed JudgeandO for giving me the opening to step away without looking shitty at my job.
“I’ll go to her then,” I said.
If it was a bad drama, I would walk down the hall before silently backtracking to eavesdrop in the hallway. That usually ended up with whoever getting caught or maimed. Or, if it was a comedy, it ended with them overhearing just enough of something to misconstrue it until embarrassing hijinks occurred. Since I didn’t want any of that—and I was very curious to meet the mysterious O—I kept going down the hall.
