Kate sensed a lesson pending.No point fighting it.“Go on.”
“They don’t hint.”
“Who don’t?”
“Women hint.Men aren’t capable of it.”
“You can’t say that.”
"You sound like my undergrads.They sit in my lectures, itching for a reason to cancel me." She ground pepper, slightly angrily, into the oil in the pan."Of course, men know how to hint.But it's not how theyroll.”
“Oh, Mother…”
Dr.Valentine loved to pepper her speech with fresh slang harvested from her students.They made Kate cringe, as only a daughter could.
“You might work in law enforcement, Kitty, but that doesn’t mean you can police my verbs.”
“Sorry.”
“If he had wanted you to know he’s not interested, then he would have said exactly that.Too many women waste far too much time trying to work out what a man’s thinking.So…”
“So what?”
“He wasn’t hinting.So what are you going to do next?”
Kate put down the knife.“Mom… Mike’s nice.He’s thoughtful.Interesting.I like him.But… I don’t know.I’m not sure it’s going anywhere.So I’ve decided to do nothing.”
Catherine turned from the stove, wooden spoon in hand.“Nothing?”
“If he wants to see me, he’ll make the move.”
Her mother gave her the look — that mixture of fondness and pity that only a parent could deliver.“What if he’s in his mom’s kitchen right now, saying exactly the same thing?”
“His mom lives in Aruba.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Well, then it’s not meant to be.”
“What does Marcus think?”
“Marcus has only just come back to work.My non-existent love-life isn’t really on his radar.”
This was both true and not-true.Her investigative partner Marcus had returned to work just over three weeks ago, after being badly injured in a car crash at the close of their last major case.However, on his very first day back, he’d asked Kate if she had ‘done it with the bookstore guy yet’.
Catherine stirred the sauce thoughtfully.“But surely,” she said finally, “Waiting for him to make the move has gone out of style.In 2026—”
“—it’s the same as whenever,” Kate interrupted.“If Mike wants something, he’ll find a way to get it.That applies to relationships and criminal confessions.”
“You really do see everything through an FBI lens, don’t you?”
“Occupational hazard.”
They worked in companionable quiet for a while — Kate slicing tomatoes, Catherine basting the roast chicken.Outside, the low winter sunlight slanted through the kitchen window, painting warm gold over the spice jars and the potted basil that was dying a slow, ugly death.
Kate’s phone buzzed once on the countertop.She ignored it.
Catherine noticed.“Work?”
