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“With homemade sauce,” Callie added with a sly smile.
“And garlic bread!”
Tension snapped along Liv’s spine. “He’s already called for a—”
“Please, Mama?” Brodie bounced on his feet.
“How can you deny this face?” Callie pushed her nephew’s cheeks forward to make him look like a chipmunk.
Brodie blinked his eyelids rapidly, ripping a chuckle from Liv’s throat.
She loved seeing the two of them so playful. Despite losing his dad at such a young age, Brodie was a happy kid, though one area of his life remained irrevocably changed. His refusal to play sports of any kind, especially baseball. Grief wrapped around her chest.
“Zeke and I—” She paused to pick her words carefully, digging her fingers into her left temple. Had she even thanked him properly? She couldn’t remember. Her entire focus had been on getting to Brodie, then separating him from Zeke as quickly as possible. “Our association has had a rocky start. He will probably say no.”
What if her icy behavior made him decide not to help them with the case? Mitch would freaking kill her. Or fire her. Neither option boded well for her career.
“Leave him to us,” Callie said, grabbing Brodie’s hand.
Liv set her jaw. “No, I’ll go.”
“But he might say no to you.”
“Exactly.” She moved toward the door. “If he stays, it’ll be because he wants to, not because he can’t say no to a siren and a cherub.”
“Don’t go out there with your cop face on,” Callie warned, “Ask him as Liv. The woman who helps those in need and takes walks in the park to pet other people’s dogs.”
She sent her sister an annoyed look. “Yes, Mom.”
Zeke stood staring down the street, his hands in his pockets. When she stopped beside him, he said, “I’m not loitering to annoy you. My ride will be here in a few minutes.”
“My family,” she sent a pointed look toward the house where two faces pressed against the picture window, “would like you to join us for dinner.”
He followed her gaze, then returned to watching for his ride. “Are you here to encourage me to decline?”
“No.”
“But you’re not encouraging me to stay, either.”
She scanned her surroundings. “No.”
“I can’t read you, Liv. Am I welcome or not?”
“Of course. My family has invited you to be their guest.”
“But not yours.”
She met his gaze straight on. “This has turned messy, Zeke. You being here muddies the line between my personal and professional life, which I try like hell to keep separated.”
“What do you call two weeks ago?”
A ticker tape of images flashed through her mind—Zeke eating dinner alone, Zeke rising from a midnight swim, Zeke moving over her with firm, hard strokes.
“Two consenting adults passing time.”
“You do remember me. I wasn’t sure.”
“I told you once, you’re hard to forget.”
