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“Well, yes,” she says dryly as if that were obvious. “But the way I said it made him sound… dreamy. The way you put it sounds like you’re profiling him.”
“I was. I’m a cop. I profile everyone.”
“Even me?” she gasps, placing her palm over her chest.
“Of course,” I admit. “You can never be too sure about one’s neighbor,” I joke.
After picking up Gabe and keeping him wrapped in his warm, blue blanket, I say my goodbyes and then leave.
* * *
Gabriel goes down without a fuss,making me skeptical that he’ll remain that way. That’s usually a sign he’ll be up way before dawn, and there is no telling how long he’d been asleep for my neighbor. In the last week, he’s been sleeping mostly through the night, but only if I keep him up later. Other than Drago popping by twice this week, I’ve been able to do that, and I’ve managed to get a decent night’s sleep.
I’ve been getting my ass handed to me these past few weeks in my daily workouts and that shit’s getting old. I’m decent at holding my own—or so I thought.
Shutting the hot water off, I pull the shower curtain back and then reach for a towel.
A yawn cuts through my lips as I head into my closet, snatching up a pair of cotton shorts and a thin, white, long-sleeve Henley.
I need more sleep. I need longer sleep. I need my life back.
I know my neighbor has a point. Gabriel does need someone who will care for him like a child needs. I’m just not convinced I’m that person. Scratch that, I know I’m not that person. I’m doing a half-ass job with Gabe at best, and I’m failing miserably with my investigation that somehow doesn’t feel like a case I’m working anymore. I’m not even eating that great, which is probably one of the reasons I’m in a shitty mood right now.
I yank up my shorts, ready for this month to be over when I hear a hard knock on my door. Heading out of my bedroom, I wonder who it could be. I’m not expecting anyone.
There’s another knock as I lean into the door, looking through the peephole. Seeing Drago, my lips spread wide on their own accord. My earlier berating about not doing my job where he’s concerned is forgotten as I quickly pull open the door.
He’s leaning into the frame of the door, looking tall, dark, and sexy as fuck, holding two plastic bags.
“Hungry?” He lifts the bags.
“Maybe.” My stomach takes that moment to growl embarrassingly.
“Sounds like a definitely to me.” One corner of his lips tip, making him look younger. It reminds me of his brother’s easygoing demeanor.
I cross my arms and then lean into the doorframe next to him. Being so close, I have to look up to see his eyes. He must be in a good mood; they appear lighter than normal.
“What’s in the bag?”
“Chinese.”
I force a smile, but not because I dislike the cuisine. I love it, actually, but nine times out of ten, it gives me a headache. I don’t have the heart to tell him. I’ll just deal with the misery MSG will bring me.
“I guess you can come in then.” I push off the entryway and then take a step back to let him come inside. “Want a beer?”
“I’d love one—or six.” He laughs. I turn, facing him as he closes the door.
“Bad day?” I question. That’s the opposite thought I had moments ago, I think, walking backward to get us drinks out of the refrigerator.
“No.” He shakes his head, placing the bags down on the coffee table and then sitting on the couch in front of them. “Just a long one with a long drive.”
Where did you go?” I ask, twisting the cap off both longneck bottles before handing him one and then taking a sip out of the other.
“Business outside of San Diego.” He shrugs, not looking me in the eyes. Scooting off the couch and sitting on the floor in front of my coffee table, he starts taking our food out.
Something strikes me as off. It’s not his steady, cool voice that tips me off but more so his body language.
Drago isn’t the shrugging type, at least not that I’ve witnessed; no behavior that would give me that impression. He’s too in control of himself. I doubt most people would have picked up on it, but being—
