He pushed off the butcher block and started pacing. “It sure as hell didn’t feel like it the other night. Also, just because I’m well maintained doesn’t mean I can’t do manly things.”
“Of course not. But baby—” I took his hands in mine. “You have a better manicure than I do. Let him do you the favor and put the lights up. Besides, I know the real reason why you keep them nice and trimmed… and it’s…very manly,” I said, smirking as I moved his hand to my pussy, holding it there.
The frost in his eyes cracked, just slightly, as a small grin tickled the corners of his mouth. He inhaled long and slow, then crashed his mouth onto mine, spinning me to the wall next to the kitchen window.
I pushed him back. “Let me make you that cocoa.”
Graham’s truck started, and he backed out the driveway before I was even out of Hunter’s arms.
“Well, that was rude. I guess we’ll have to bring the tree in ourselves. I was hoping the ogre could do it for us.”
“Hunter!”
“Hey, if he gets to be an asshole… I do too. Only fair.”
God, I needed to get this figured out and fast. I didn’t know how much more of their “trying to prove whose dick was bigger” I could take. If today accomplished anything, it proved people who liked having twomen fight over them were insane. Okay, insane may have been a strong choice of words. Because I wasn’t gonna lie. It was incredibly hot how protective they got over me—even if it usually meant someone ended up with a black eye.
Graham
I hated that asshole. If he laid one hand on her she didn’t beg for, I was going to fucking kill him. Plain and simple. Should I have left? Probably not. But I couldn’t stand seeing her with him like that. Choosing someone like him even thoughI was right there. Fuck the curse. We’d figure it out.
God, Locke, you’re so stupid. You’re the whole goddamn reason she’s in this situation in the first place. You left. You fix it.
My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I hoped it was her, but it wasn’t.
It was Nettles.
I blew out a breath to regain my composure, then answered. “Cap, what’s up?”
“Bishop’s out.”
“Oh yeah? Story panned out?”
“No. Not exactly. We even got pictures of his two previous lovers—both look so similar to the Midwest Girls?—”
“Then why’d you let him go?”
“We got another body. M.E. says time of death occurred while Bishop was in the cooler.”
“You’re shitting me.”
“I wish I was.”
“Any ideas on what our next move should be?”
“No, but I’ll text you the new information—let you hash it over.”
“Okay, thanks, Cap.”
I hung up and tucked the phone back in my pocket. If it wasn’t Bishop—which I knew already—we were back to square one. Which meant Maggie was still in danger. I knew Bishop was innocent, but the selfish part of me wanted him guilty just so we could put this to bed and move on from the fact that the girl I loved continued to be a target.
Maybe there were two killers. It’d happened before. In the movies, anyway—guy offs someone while his buddy’s in custody, forces a release. Oldest trick in the book.
No. That wasn’t it. Bishop was innocent. He had to be. I’d known him for years—never had any of the signs.
As I pulled into the bird sanctuary, the light gave way to the dark of the forest as I made my way home. Nothing about this was easy. Not solving this case. Not trying to swallow down my feelings for Maggie. None of it. No matter how I tried to play it, I was the bad guy. I shoved them together, and now everything I wanted in the world was to rip them apart, even though she could have a chance at happiness with him.
My phone buzzed again.
