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Okay, so maybe Eddie didn’t eat donuts.
I shook off my surprise.
“I can’t find your kettle or any instant,” I tried.
“I don’t have a kettle or instant coffee.”
I kept staring. “What do you do for coffee?”
His eyes went back to the mirror. “I go to Fortnum’s.”
“Well then, what doIdo for coffee, like, right now?” I asked.
“Get ready for work?” he suggested.
I put on The Glare.
“You need a woman,” I told him, trying to be uppity and throw some attitude.
It wasn’t a smart thing to do.
His eyes came back to me and his expression turned my bones to water.
Eek!
I left the bathroom.
I slapped on minimal makeup, put on jeans and a V-necked, scarlet-red, long-sleeved T-shirt that Mom bought me, and yes, you guessed it, it was skintight. I blew my hair dry and pulled it back in a ponytail holder. Because I felt in the mood, I put on a pair of kick-butt, high-heeled, tan boots and a belt so wide it strained the limits of my belt loops.
Eddie pulled on a long-sleeved, white, thermal T-shirt, his jeans, boots and belt, took his gun and cuffs from the drawer in the bedside table and clipped them to the belt on his jeans. His final touch was to grab his badge from the dresser and hook it on his belt.
I picked up my purse and we rolled out the back door.
We were halfway across the yard when I noticed Eddie scanning. My stomach clenched and I started scanning too, looking for heads peering over Eddie’s tall fence. He unlocked the garage and then we were in the truck, waiting for the garage door to open, Eddie watching it through his rearview mirror, all the while fishing in his pocket. Then he held out a set of keys to me.
“Keys to the house,” was all he said.
I took them. My stomach clenched again and he started the truck. He was about to put the truck in gear when I put my hand on his forearm. He didn’t move his hand, but his eyes came to mine.
There were a lot of things to say.
“Thank you,” being the biggest one on the list, but the words weren’t good enough.
“I’m sorry to be a pain in the ass,” was another one that was way up there.
I knew I should say something, anything, but I didn’t know what to say.
“I don’t know what to say,” I said.
His eyebrows came up.
I took my hand from his arm and looked away.
“Chiquita, is this about the keys?” he asked.
“It’s about everything,” I told the window.
Silence.
