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Raith ate breakfast at DeVane's, raiding her kitchen until he found a bowl, spoon and box of Cheerios. He broke the seal on a half-gallon carton of milk and poured a liberal amount over his meal. Then he sat down at her table and fed himself.
It would've been more convenient for him to go home and eat there. He needed to head that way next to shower and change anyway. But it didn't even matter that he preferred the kid-flavored brands of cereal he had stocked on his own shelves. He stayed rooted at DeVane's table and finished his Cheerios, drinking the leftover milk from the bottom of his bowl.
All the while, he stared at the counter where he'd taken her, remembering how good she felt wrapped around him.
She'd tried to nudge him awake a couple minutes ago, saying, "Hey. Malloy. Don't you have to go to work today?"
He cracked his eyes open far enough to catch her studying his uniform, bulletproof vest, duty belt, gun and boots in a heap on the floor. She'd already showered and dressed for the day, wearing one of her seductive power suits. But he'd been too tired to be disappointed that he missed getting to see her dress up.
Mumbling something unintelligible, he winced at the light and rolled over away from her.
"What?" she asked and nudged him again, making him growl.
"It's my day off," he repeated, more loudly this time. He didn't have to go in until later to fill some hours because of Wilmer's absence.
"Okay then," DeVane relented. "Make the bed before you leave."
Now that he was awake and alert, he wished he had snagged her wrist and tugged her down on top of him to get a lusty little kiss goodbye.
She was officially his lover now, so he felt perfectly within his rights to do so. Well, she hadn't balked at the idea when he'd suggested it last night. So, damn it, she was his lover now.
Still amazed by that fact, he lingered in her home and surrounded himself with her things. He rinsed the bowl in her sink and thought about leaving it there, but changed his mind and cleaned it properly, drying and
putting it back where he found it.
Afterward, he just kind of stood around and set his hand on the counter, right where she'd sat a few weeks ago when he'd shoved her robe aside and pushed his way inside her. Steeped in memories, he slid his palm over the surface of the countertop and groaned, feeling like an idiot for reliving that moment in his head. Closing his eyes, he leaned forward and rested his head on a cabinet door.
"You are so screwed, Malloy," he told himself.
When he left a few minutes later, he locked her back door behind him.
~ * ~
When Willow made it home, he was gone. He'd left her bed a mess—probably on purpose, the ass—but other than that, there was no trace of his presence. She didn't want to admit how much that disappointed her. She'd pictured him lounging around her house all day, eating all the food from her fridge and being completely lazy. And shame on her, but she had liked the image.
She'd never confess it aloud, but she'd hurried home just to see if he was still hanging around. The locked back door that greeted her made her growl in frustration because she had to drop her briefcase and dig inside her purse for a key. But then it made her smile because it reminded her of him. She pushed her way inside, spilling into the kitchen in a rush.
The house was quiet. And lonely.
After walking through the halls to make sure he was really gone, she returned to the kitchen and mechanically started dinner. Halfway through cooking a heaping pot of pasta alfredo, she realized it'd take her a month to finish such a serving all by herself. Even more depressed by that notion, she called Camille and Dylan and demanded they come eat with her.
She should've called Chase and his wife Allison or maybe Kit and Tina instead, she decided an hour later when she and the Taggarts settled into the living room, because the first after-dinner topic out of her cousin's mouth was the very one she'd been wanting to avoid all evening.
"So... how's Malloy doing?" Camille asked bluntly.
Willow sent her an arch look. "Why do you assume I know the answer to that question? Maybe I haven't seen him since running into him at the theatre with you two."
"If that's the case, then why do you have a new figurine?" her cousin countered and held up a tiny brass statue Willow hadn't even noticed before.
She sucked in a breath when she saw it. Only about five inches tall, the sculpture of a police officer with a whistle in his mouth and a hand up in the universal sign for stop as if he was directing traffic instantly captivated her. Willow snatched up the sculpture, envisioning Malloy strolling around her room and examining her menagerie as she'd talked on the phone. He knew she liked to collect statuettes.
"Oh my God," she breathed. "I wonder when he left this here?" Quietly, she speculated why he hadn't given her the trinket in person, only to figure he'd been too embarrassed to offer her a gift. She grinned. That sounded like Malloy. He'd cut off his arm before looking like a "nice" guy.
It never occurred to her that maybe he hadn't left the item. But come on. Why would anyone else give her such a present? No one besides Camille and Dylan even knew of her involvement with a deputy.
"He must've put it here after I left this morning," she mused, grinning slightly at the thought of him really being awake when she'd left, only to fly out of bed as soon as she closed the door, and hurry into the living room to set up his surprise.
"Hey." Camille snapped her fingers in front of Willow's face, making her blink up at her two guests. Neither of them smiled back. "What in the world?" her cousin exploded. "I thought you said you didn't like him. I thought…" She shook her head. "What was up with all that Don't-worryCamille-I'll-never-see-him-again crap?"
