Page 33 of Blue Jeans in Low Beams

I laugh, trying to hide the fact that no part of me would turn that down. Brenna might be my best friend’s little sister, but she’s also one hell of a woman. One I really want to let kiss me right now. Because if this was any other date—if she were any other woman—I would have kissed her hours ago.

Fuck, I would have kissed her a week ago.

Still, I hold back, scribbling my own answer onto the card as she writes her answer then scurries off to turn them in.

“Alrighty!” Edgar gathers everyone together. “I hope you all enjoyed playing detective this evening and helping us solve the murder of Leo Caggiano Jr. However, only one of you sleuths was able to determine the correct killer! Congratulations to Brenna Rawlins!”

Brenna squeals, hands flying over her mouth to help diminish the sound. It doesn’t work, but she earns herself a laugh and applause from the rest of the group. She heads up to the front, humbly accepting her prize.

“And now, will Oscar Buchanon, our killer, please step forward and explain himself!”

I do as I’m told, taking the card from Edgar and reading it out loud. I confess, I poisoned Junior’s drink, a bottle I’d told him I made special for him, because I wanted Anna all to myself. I tried to convince everyone that Palmetto had done it—after all, I had seen him hit Junior with a paperweight—but that the poison had already taken effect. Little had I known about the affair Anna and Palmetto were having and that she would never be mine.

“Great job,” Edgar says as we head out. “As a thank you for taking on that role, and effectively taking yourself out of prize contention, since you couldn’t vote for yourself, we would like to offer you this gift card, so you can bring your beautiful girlfriend back to The Rustic on us.”

Girlfriend…

I don’t bother correcting him. Now’s not the time for semantics. Plus, it’s not his business what Brenna is in my life. And an excuse to bring her back here is more than welcome.

“I still can’t believe you figured that out,” I tell Brenna as I put the truck in park back behind the Southern Brothers warehouse. She chattered the whole way home about the case. The characters, the scene, the plot itself. I let her, loving listening to her go on and on. It doesn’t seem to matter that it’s not my chosen topic—I could do this for days. “I thought I played the part well.”

“You did! You so did! I really was thinking that maybe it was Palmetto and the obvious guess was it. Until you made the ‘for love or money’ comment.”

“But how’d you know that Oscar loved Anna?”

“Because of the drink.”

“The drink?”

I pause at the bottom of the stairs that lead up to our apartment, not wanting this night to end. We agreed before we left that inside the apartment we were roommates—Milo and Brenna, same friends as always—and that our date started and ended at the front door. That sounded good at the time. Now I wish I could take that back.

“The Anna,” she answers, walking past me and up the stairs. “Etta, the club singer, mentioned in one of her interviews that you had created a special drink called the Anna. The only reason you would do that is if you love me. Her.”

Well I’ll be damned. Guess I would have picked up on that if I had been paying attention to the game rather than the girl. Looks like Oscar and I have more in common than just our chosen profession.

“I…er…I guess this is it. The end of our date.” Her face falls as she says it, and it’s clear the disappointment that is settling in my chest is mutual. “Back to being roommates on the other side of this door.”

“Yup.”

“Thank you, Milo, for an amazing night. This was so much fun. I really enjoyed it. Enjoyed being on a date with you.”

Something rises in me I can’t name. A bold, brazen desire backed by knowledge that this is right. So fucking right.

“Me too. So now there’s just one thing left.”

Taking one large step, I erase the gap between us, one hand sliding around her waist, the other to the back of her neck, hauling her into me. A small gasp echoes into the air as Brenna grabs ahold of my biceps. I stare into her soft brown eyes for a second, silently letting her in on my plan.

But only for a second.

Lowering my head, I capture her lips in mine. Softly, gently, slow as molasses, giving her a moment. She whimpers, hands digging into my bicep the way they did earlier in the evening when she realized what our date was. The feel of her holding on awakens something in me. Something that no longer wants to be respectful.

Still, I maintain my composure.

Sort of.

I tighten my embrace, deepening the kiss. Moving my lips along hers, I let myself go. Let myself feel it. Let myself enjoy the excitement of kissing a pretty girl. Of her kissing me back. Of not knowing where this is going to lead, but wanting more than anything to find out.

My dick twitches, the excitement flowing straight to my groin. This might all end on the other side of that door, but we’re not there yet. Right here, right now, we’re on this side of the door. And this side of the door includes kissing.