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“Like?” I asked, sitting down next to her this time.
“Like would it be completely insane to put bars on all the windows,” she said, snatching one of the thoughts out of the storm of them.
“Whatever it would take to make you feel comfortable isn’t insane,” I said, shrugging.
“Any idea how much those are?”
“Fifty to a hundred per window, depending on the design.” I watched as she mentally did the math. She didn’t have a lot of windows. But she was already shelling out a pretty penny for the security system, and then more for the dog and supplies. “If you decide to do it, I can install them,” I offered.
“You’ve done too much already,” she said, giving me a sad head shake.
“You’ve got to stop thinking that,” I insisted. “Keeping you safe is a top priority,” I told her. Then, despite myself, added, “And I don’t just mean because of my case.”
“Det—“
“Wells,” I corrected.
“Wells,” she repeated. “You have to let me thank you somehow,” she said. “How about… I can cook you dinner. You’re always working. I’m sure you don’t have enough time to get a home-cooked meal.”
“Don’t think I’ve had one since last Thanksgiving,” I admitted, feeling a warmth spread through me at the idea of her cooking for me.
“Then it’s settled. I’ll cook dinner for you. After all of this, maybe I will have to do it a few times,” she added, and I couldn’t tell if she was flirting with me or just being friendly. Her energy was all over the place.
“I will never turn down a home-cooked meal,” I told her.
“Do you have any favorite foods?”
“Anything that doesn’t come from a takeout menu or the prepared food section at the grocery store,” I told her.
“I’m reasonably sure I can do better than that. Maybe… tomorrow?” she suggested. “After we look at dogs.”
“It’s a date,” I said, internally beating myself up about it until I saw a little flush break out across her pretty face.
It was probably a career-ruining mistake to get involved with a witness in an ongoing case.
But, for once, I couldn’t seem to make myself care.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Mari
I was sure it was just, you know, a turn of phrase.
It’s a date.
But as I got myself dressed in the hotel room, I couldn’t help but feel the little flutters in my belly as I slipped into a pair of my best-fitting jeans and a lightweight pink sweater.
The bruises on my face were mostly gone, but I slathered on some makeup to take them away completely, then threw on some mascara and tinted lip balm to complete the look.
Not trying too hard, but a lot more put-together than I had been the last few times I’d seen the man.
I had to admit that it was nice having my car back, even if there was that little true crime narrator in the back of my head thinking about the fact that my attacker probably knew what my car looked like, and could be lying in wait right this very moment.
It was going to be fine.
Fine, damnit.
It was still light out. And I’d parked as close to the doors as I could, in a spot where the clerk at the desk could see me if something happened. I’d also taken the tire iron out of my trunk, and situated it on my passenger seat just in case.
