Page 79 of Direct Action

“Both local, no records. I’ll get Fallon to do a deep dive later today.”

I heard the bedroom door open, then close, then open again.

“Everything okay?” I called out.

“Yes . . . no . . . yes,” Chloe returned.

What the hell?

I took a few steps but froze when Chloe came stomping into the kitchen while declaring, “This is awkward. Not as awkward as yesterday but still . . . So to make it not awkward, I’m just going to say, good morning, Pete, who is not my boss while I’m not at work.”

She plopped down in a chair, grabbed my coffee, and took a gulp. When she was done, her nose scrunched adorably and she made a sound that communicated exactly what she thought of my joe.

Christ, she was cute.

“How can you drink that?”

“Government coffee is shit.”

“This isn’t government coffee,” she rightly told me. It was off brand and I’d scooped it out of a yellow canister, so close enough.

“Nope.” I grabbed two mugs out of the cupboard, finished pouring, and looked over my shoulder to find her staring at my mug with pure hatred. “Habit.” Her gaze lifted, and she still looked disgusted. “How do you take your coffee?”

“Not like you,” she declared, and opened the box of donuts.

“I gathered that.”

“A splash of the half-and-half and one small teaspoon of sugar,” she said through an epic grimace that made me want to kiss her.

I moved out of Pete’s way so he could doctor up his coffee and delivered Chloe’s.

“Thank you,” she mumbled around a bite of glazed donut. “Sorry, it’s rude I’m not waiting, but I’m starving and I need to leave soon.”

Right.

The reason why Pete was there. Chloe was borrowing my truck to run errands and to meet up with Poppy. I was sure one of the places she needed to go was to visit her dad, though she hadn’t come out and said it. Neither had I asked. Not that this was an issue, beyond the fact I’d prefer to go with her.

“Good Lord, how much sugar do you take?” Chloe hilariously gasped, staring at Pete’s mug.

“Eight.”

“Eight what? Heaping tablespoons of heart disease?” she asked Pete.

“Ryan takes ten,” he said, throwing me under the bus.

“Ten? Holy mother of dragons, Ryan, you’re gonna die. Seriously, this might be your last day on earth if you’ve been using ten tablespoons of sugar to cover up the government coffee taste. And I drank some. My poor arteries are in distress. I can feel it.”

Pete stared at Chloe like he was unsure if he was going to bust a gut or run.

“Your arteries are in distress from one sip?” I asked.

“It was big sip, and now I know why it was gritty. There’s so much sugar it couldn’t all dissolve. I hope you’re up to date on your CPR certs. You know, in case I have a heart attack from the seventeen spoonfuls of sugar I ingested.”

There were only ten in the whole mug, but I wasn’t going to correct her. Something else I was finding cute about Chloe Baughman—she was dramatic as fuck when she ranted.

“Don’t worry, baby, my mouth-to-mouth is top notch.”

Chloe winked and shoved the last of the donut in her mouth that had more sugar in it than my and Pete’s coffee combined. It seriously sucked she had places to be when what I wanted to do was kick my friend out and drag her ass to back to bed and show her exactly what I thought of the wink.