“It’s racking up.” I grinned, flicked another strand of her hair. A flirty move. I was a damn high school kid again.
She cocked her head and met my grin. “All that instant coffee, beef jerky, and processed meat from the cooler really ticking up the total, huh?”
“It’s all organic.”
She laughed. “You wouldn’t know organic food if it slapped you in the face.”
“This coming from the Takeout Queen herself.”
“You’ve really gripped onto that, haven’t you?”
“I want you to stay put, Sunny. No take out, or curbside whatever. How many times do I have to tell you? Stay out of public until this thing blows over.”
She stepped forward, closing the inches between us, a flash of desire in those eyes.
I licked my lips.
“And I want you to be less demanding,” she responded, in a low, sultry whisper. “More asking—less telling.” Her finger ran down my chest, blazing a trail of heat under her fingertip.
If the front door to the station hadn’t opened, I would have kissed her right there.
We both cleared our throats and took a step back as Tanya sauntered to her car, eyeing us the entire way.
“Did you get my note?” I asked.
“I did and it only took two cups of coffee to decipher the script. You write like a kindergartner.”
“I was doing long division in kindergarten.”
“But not learning dangling participles, apparently.”
“No, what’s that? A type of ambiguous grammatical construct where a misplaced modifier could be misinterpreted as a word other than the one intended? No, I have no idea what a dangling participle is.”
“Show off. Anyway, yes, I got the note that read: ‘Gun on counter. No home. Ryder expecting you. Ten o’clock, station.’”
“Never claimed to be a poet. You didn’t go to your house, did you?”
“Technically, no.”
My eyes narrowed. “I don’t do technically.”
“I drove by.”
“You didn’t stop? Didn’t go in?”
“No. Ipromise.”
“Good girl. Anything new?”
“No, thank God. Just total destruction with the word ‘witch’ gleaming in the sunlight. At least it hadn’t been burned down.”
“We’ll get it fixed. One step at a time, beginning with Max.” I ruffled the dog’s ears, fur disbanding into the sunlight. “Is he ready for his big morning of sniffing Julian Griggs’ clothes and hopefully leading us to his killer, otherwise known as this mystery third person from your attack?”
“He sure is. We’ve already practiced a bit.”
“Good. How was Ryder when you stopped by?”
“I don’t know.”
