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“Hey Avon, there’s room at the bar,” a server named Savannah said to me as I scanned the room.
“Thanks,” I said, heading that way to grab any open seat I could find.
There was only one open seat, though, at the very end, and I recognized the man in the seat next to that one immediately from his massive shoulders and back.
Grady. Of course. But it didn’t matter because I had a book about Freedom of Information laws to keep me busy.
“Chief Grady,” I said in greeting as I took my coat off and hung it on the back of the barstool.
“Hey, Avon,” he said.
“How’s it going?” I said, feeling obligated to make small talk.
“Not bad. You?”
“Good.”
Tipper saved me from further awkwardness by showing up with his pad and paper in hand.
“What can I get you today, Avon?” he asked.
“Do you have that chicken tortilla soup?”
“Sure do.”
“I’ll take a bowl of that and a grilled cheese. And an iced tea.”
“You got it.”
I snuck a glance at Grady to see if our conversation was still going or if we’d dispensed with the niceties. He was looking straight ahead, so I opened my book.
I’d only been reading for about thirty seconds when he turned to me, brows arched.
“Really? You just happen to be reading a book on how to break my balls while sitting next to me?”
I set the book down. “I do just happen to be reading a book on Freedom of Information laws, yes, because this is the only time I can fit reading in. And I’m not reading this to break your balls.”
“Sure you’re not. The city attorney already lectured me on Freedom of Information laws, so don’t worry, you’re going to get your way. Might as well just give you the keys to my office and let you go through my files.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m glad you’re not melodramatic or anything.”
He shook his head, about to say something else when Tipper slid a plate in front of him.
“There you go, Chief. Careful, those potatoes are hot.”
“Thanks, Tipper.”
Steam rose from the mashed potatoes and gravy on his plate. He’d also gotten the meatloaf and some broccoli.
“Eat some carbs; it’ll improve your mood,” I said, smiling sarcastically.
“My mood’s just fine, thanks.”
“Great, then eat a bag of dicks instead.”
He set his fork down. “Are you always so surly?”
“Me? I just came here to read and have lunch.”
Tipper grinned as he set my iced tea down. “Thanks, you two. You just won me ten bucks.”
Grady and I both gave him puzzled looks.
“How’s that?” Grady asked.
Tipper gestured toward the other end of the bar with his thumb. “A few of us had a bet going on how long it would take you two to start going at it.”
My face heated with embarrassment. People speculated about me and Grady going at it?”
“No idea what you’re talking about,” Grady said. “I’m just eating lunch.”
“And I’m just reading a book,” I said, gesturing toward it.
Tipper winked at me. “Sure you are.”
He tapped the counter and headed away, grabbing a towel from a bucket to wipe down the counter where someone had vacated their seat.
Grady finished his food, threw down some cash and slid out of his seat.
“See you Thursday,” I said, the day I came in to gather police news. “And Saturday, too.”
He scowled. “Why Saturday?”
I smiled sweetly. “The Winter Showdown. I’m on the fire chief’s team.”
“Great. Make sure you wear those ridiculous boots.”
Asshole. I’d gone from not caring about the showdown to caring a lot in a matter of a few minutes.
“I hear Georgette’s your co-captain,” I said.
His nostrils flared and his lips thinned. I’d hit a nerve.
“Have a nice day, Avon,” he ground out.
“You too, Chief.”
I went back to my book, my heart racing for some unexplainable reason. Apparently people knew that Grady drove me crazy and that I had the same effect on him. But no one knew my heart raced every time we were within five feet of each other or that I loved his light, woodsy scent, and I planned to keep it that way.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Avon
I carefully set a rusty cake pan on top of the mountain of dishes and small kitchen appliances in the middle of the apartment kitchen, then threw my arms up in celebration.
I’d done it. I’d cleaned out every kitchen cabinet. Pete had a collection of outdated kitchen implements, most of which I suspected he’d rarely used. And since it was Svensday and I couldn’t work in the newsroom, I’d decided to spend the day purging the apartment of clutter and cleaning it. My new bed and bedding had inspired me to see the potential in the small but functional space. After spending nearly five thousand dollars of my own money getting a furnace and new ductwork for the apartment, I wanted to maximize my return on investment by making it cozy and appealing to potential buyers.
