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We enter the main office area, where Doug is packing up his laptop.
“Hiya, Aiden, do you know what’s up with Britt? She ran out of here so fast… looked like she was about to cry. Was it something about the case?”
A knot is in my throat, and I glance down, meeting Owen’s disappointed eyes. “We just ah… had a little misunderstanding. I’m taking care of it.”
Dropping to one knee, I put my hand on Owen’s waist. “I have an idea. Would you be okay with going to Grandma’s for dinner tonight?”
“Yeah!” he shouts. “She gives me chocolate cake for dessert.”
“Perfect.” Standing, I catch Doug at the door. “Hey, man, would you mind dropping Owen by my mother’s place on your way home?”
“Sure thing.” He holds out a hand to Owen. “Let’s go, Champ.”
Owen scoops up his backpack and slings it over both shoulders. As he passes me, he gives my hand a squeeze. “Don’t worry, Dad. Apologizing is hard, but Britt’s really nice. You got this.”
I shake my head. “Thanks. When I get home, I want you to show me that card trick, okay?”
“Okay!” He skips out after Doug, and I glance at the clock.
It’s just after five. If I hurry, I can run home, take a shower, and change into civilian clothes, hopefully before she has time to eat anything. I scoop up my phone and text my mom what’s going on, then I jog out to my waiting truck.
* * *
The Star Parlorsign glows purple in the twilight as I park on the street in front of her apartment. It’s like a warning sign:Dangerous territory, turn back.But my son is right. I have to apologize for overreacting and being a dick at work.
I’m technically Britt’s boss, and the way I acted wasn’t just rude, it was unprofessional. This dinner is a nice gesture, nothing more. It’s not an idea borne out of the persistent interest humming in my veins… like I’ve crossed a desert and found the first glimmering pool of water waiting on the other side.
Fuck that.
It’s an olive branch.
I open the glass outer door and climb the wooden stairs to her apartment above Gwen’s studio. Hesitating, I hear the soft strains of music coming from inside. More Shania Twain. It sounds like “Any Man of Mine.”
Glancing down at my jeans and navy tee, it’s time to do this. I lift my fist, ready to knock when the door swings open, and a piercing scream throws me into a defensive crouch.
“What’s… the fuck?” I shout at the same time Britt yells, “What are you doing?”
Taking a step back, I lean against the wall, placing my hand on my clenched stomach. “Dammit, Britt, you scared the shit out of me.”
“I scared you?” Her voice is loud, and she’s standing there in plaid boxer shorts and a tank top with no bra. “What are you doing lurking outside my door?”
I avert my eyes from her nipples piercing the thin cotton, looking down at her smooth, muscular legs and red toenails. This is not how I expected this to go.
“I’m sorry.” Clearing my throat, I lift my eyes to hers and push off the wall, stepping closer to where she’s standing in the doorway. “I came over to apologize for the way I acted this afternoon.”
Thankfully, she crosses her arms over her breasts. Her hair is piled on her head in one of those buns I don’t understand. It’s a big mess on her head, but it’s cute in a way that slides easily into sexy.
She lifts her chin, and I drag my eyes from her sex hair to the traces of dampness around her lashes.Fuck, did I make her cry?It’s like a punch to the gut, and I scrub a hand over my mouth.
“Damn, Britt, I acted like an ass, and I thought maybe you might let me take you to dinner to make it up to you.”
Her chin pulls back, and she blinks several times, looking away from me. In her bare feet and hardly any clothes, she’s so small and vulnerable. It’s like I kicked a kitten.
“I guess that would be okay.” She’s quiet, glancing down at her outfit. “I need to change and touch up my face and hair.”
“Of course, whatever you need to do.” I take a step back. “I was going to suggest we go to El Rio if you like Mexican food.”
“Luckily, I do.” Her arms are still tight over her bare breasts, which I can’t seem to get out of my brain. “El Rio is the only restaurant in town.”
