My pulse thrums in my neck, panic for Wright racing through me.
Pierce runs his tongue over his bottom lip then sighs. “Yeah. Maybe.”
I relax a little, thinking that’s it, but then he shifts to face me. “Do you have a second?”
“Uh, sure.”
Have a private conversation with the cop who suspects your best friend of grievous bodily harm, Hazel. What could go wrong?
Pierce nods his head to the side and I slide out of the booth. We walk over to a quiet corner by the raised platform where they host live music and poetry slams and I smile awkwardly at him.
Pierce glances back at Wright. “She’s going to get herself in trouble if she’s not careful.”
I frown in a show of confusion, which if it’s anything like my first-grade talent show performance, is less than convincing. “I don’t know what you mean.”
Pierce drags a hand through his hair. “Hazel… Just, do me a favor and don’t get involved, okay? I really don’t want to have arrest you at some point in the future.”
I blink up at him. “Well, that makes two of us.”
Pierce’s shoulders drop and he gives me a half-smile. “Would make things kind of awkward, especially given I’m still hoping to take you on a date sometime.”
I sigh. “Derek…”
He holds up a hand. “I know. You don’t like mixing work with pleasure, but we hardly even work together, and we can go slow. Just a coffee. You really want to turn down free caffeine?”
I open my mouth to do exactly that but then my phone buzzes against my thigh and I just get this feeling.
“Sorry,” I mutter, pulling out my phone. The Croc Jibbitz on the case dig into my palm, my grip tightening as I read the message.
Dexter
Pretty sure I told you to go home, Lilac…
My nostrils flare as I breathe in through my nose because either Flynn’s following me, or he’s broken our deal and checked the cameras.
I click the screen off and look back up at Derek. “You know what, sure. Coffee sounds great.”
Pierce half smiles like he’s trying to hold back how happy he is and guilt twinges in my gut. I need to ignore the little voice in my brain telling me I’m doing this for the wrong reasons though, because it’s the same voice daydreaming about how good it would feel to have Flynn’s hand around my neck. So clearly, that voice is fucked the hell up.
“Saturday morning at Bean Me Up?”
I smile. “Perfect.”
Two sets of nosy eyes track me as I walk back to the table.
“Sooo?” Wright asks.
I plunk myself back down in the booth. “I have a date.”
Wright’s eyebrows climb high. “Seriously?”
“He’s sweet,” I defend. “He draws me cute little sketches on my birthday.”
“He’s Detective Derek.”
“Derek is a perfectly normal name.”
“Uh huh, talking about names…” Wright plants her elbow on the table and twists to face Olivia. “You know what the Vigilante Choker’s real name is, right?”
