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“There was an avalanche. The mountains got dangerous, and…” I stopped along with the car, waiting for the pedestrians to pass. “And I went to see my sick friend.”
I started rolling again.
“And you didn’t call?”
I pushed on the brake, and his face pressed against the wired divider. At this pace we’d never get to the station, but I wasn’t about to explain how I despised love triangles and players.
“Look, I had a good time in Colorado, but as you can see, I’m more than a nutcracker now.”
“Right—you’re a cop who’s busting a guy for nothing. Significant improvement.”
Was that sarcasm in his voice? I checked the rearview mirror as he rolled his eyes.
“You know nothing about me, Silver. I’m great at my job.”
Eighty percent of relationships started with lies; except we had no relationship. I had been good at my job until Mrs. Brewers took another child to babysit. Foxy caught one bug after another, forcing me to cut back on my hours.
“You’re definitely great at running,” he mumbled, and sat back in his seat. I was not about to get into this with him while on the job. Any woman in my shoes would have done the same. I said nothing else until we arrived at the precinct and I put him in a room for booking. I had just signed off on the paperwork when Sargent Dwight called me over to his desk.
“The gun is registered. Mr. Silver’s lawyer says you should have checked before booking him for possession.”
“He got a lawyer?”
“The Silvers always lawyer up. You would have known that if you followed protocol, which you didn’t. I don’t want to demote you, Young, but—”
“Demote me? Sir, I know I’ve been off my game the past couple of months, but I can do my job.”
He loosened the tie around his neck.
“You’re a good cop, Laura, and I need you here, but you will need to apologize to Mr. Silver.”
“So he’s walking?”
“Your bust is a no bust. What do you want me to hold him on?”
Good genes, bright blue eyes, and a body to die for? I shrugged instead.
“I haven’t seen you slip like this before. Is something going on at home?”
Did three stacks of laundry, a sink full of dishes, and a sick two-year-old count?
“Foxy’s puking again. He’s getting all kinds of germs when Mrs. Brewers brings on new kids, so I’m looking for a new sitter, and I’m… I’m sorry about the gun. I won’t slip again, sir.”
“All right. Go pay your dues and make sure the lawyers are off our back.”
“Yes, sir.”
I turned and saw him standing by the main desk. He was leaning forward, resting his elbow on the counter, charming the secretary. The overgrown beard was new, but it matched his long lashes. If it weren’t for the darker circles underneath his eyes, I’d argue he looked hotter than the night we met. His gaze lifted and caught my stare.
I fixed my shoulders back, lifted my head, mustered my confidence, and straightened my spine, taking calculated steps to the front.
“Hey,” I said. “I’m sorry about the power trip. I shouldn’t have arrested you.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t press charges if you have dinner with me.”
“What?”
“I thought we could catch up.”
