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“Being forced to tolerate you today doesn’t give you unfettered access to every part of my job.”
I wonder if now is the right time to inform her that my ride-along is open ended, not just for today.
I shrug instead. “I just figured if there was something you could do away from your desk it may help you to stay awake better.”
She continues to glare at me, neither of us dropping our eyes when the pen between her fingers falls to the desk with a clatter.
Without warning, she stands, and I hate that the quick movement catches me off guard. I’m also standing by the time she makes it around the edge of her desk, barely giving her any room to walk past me. We don’t touch but she slides by close enough that I can feel the warmth of her coffee-scented breath on my chin as she passes.
I don’t know if she’s playing hard to get or what but I can’t pass up the opportunity to taunt her.
“Good girl,” I say to her back, smiling when she freezes in the doorway.
I’d hand over my life savings just to see the look on her face right now, but she doesn’t turn back in my direction.
I follow her through the department out to her car.
Instead of using the fob on her keychain to unlock the door, she opens it the old-fashioned way, using the key. She seems unfazed when the alarm goes off, beeping it until it silences as she climbs inside. I don’t bother reaching for the door handle on the passenger side of the car because I’m well aware it’s not unlocked. I bend in the middle and lock eyes on the side of her face.
Her hands clench the steering wheel so tight, even from outside of the vehicle I can see her knuckles turn white.
It has to be at least a minute I stand outside, watching her take long breaths before she hits the button on her door to unlock my side. Wordlessly, I open the door and settle inside, making sure to pull my seatbelt over my shoulder, all the while praying I’ve annoyed her to the point that she’s awake enough to face whatever it is we’re doing.
We don’t get a mile from the department before she rolls down her window, and fuck am I ever grateful. It’s probably my cologne she’s trying to clear the vehicle of because the scent of her is just as distracting to me. I spend a minute getting lost in the memories of how she buried her face in my neck and breathed me in that night.
Her agitation grows with every turn of the tires, and I think not speaking annoys her as much as speaking would.
Before long, we’re right back in the area of town near Jake’s but instead of turning into the bar parking lot, we head to the gas station on the other side of the road.
She looks over in my direction when she puts the car in park, no doubt to ask me to stay in the fucking car. Like I’d agree to that.
“What the fuck is that?” she snaps, pointing her finger at my waist.
I look down. “A Sig.”
Her eyes narrow so much, she looks like she’s squinting, and the dark circles under them won’t be helping her case any time soon.
“You brought a gun into the fucking police department?”
I shrug and it seems to anger her even more.
“It’s against the goddamned law to carry a weapon into the fucking police department, Maddox.”
“That filthy fucking mouth of yours,” I growl, my eyes dipping down to that very part of her.
She lifts her hand and points a finger in my face. “Don’t start that shit with me. I ought to—”
“What?” I interrupt. “Arrest me?”
I can tell she hates the way I chuckle when she snaps her jaw closed with my challenge.
“Sawyer,” I say rather than continuing down a path that will lead nowhere, considering we’re in broad daylight outside of a gas station.
“What?”
“You called me Maddox. My first name is Sawyer.”
“I’m well aware of your first name.”
“Been thinking about me?”
“Fat fucking chance,” she snaps, but her eyes dart away, a tell if I’ve ever seen one. “I’ve got work to do. Think I can get that done?”
I sweep my hand to indicate the front of the store, but I don’t climb out of the car until she does. I wouldn’t put it past her to leave me standing in the middle of the parking lot and reporting back to her boss that it was my choice.
“Are you Curtis?” she asks the man behind the counter the second she approaches it.
“Yes, ma’am,” he says, holding his hand out.
She looks down at it before looking back up at him. I’d say there’s a real possibility she hates this guy more than she hates me. Before the clerk drops his hand, he points to the back of the store.
