Hew rubbed his hand over his short beard. “Now, see? When you say it like that, it sounds okay. Because when you say you’ve gone to see someone, people assume that means the person you went to see is seeing you too. But not once has that lovely little blond looked your way.” He hooked a thumb in Julia’s general direction. “And I can’t help but notice you’ve picked a rather strategic spot over here behind the condiments station.”
Britt didn’t respond. But he knew his glare was sharp enough to cut.
Unbothered, Hew grinned. Or what passed for a grin on Hew’s face, which was more just a quirk of the left side of his lips. “No need to look like someone shoved a cactus up your ass. Just tell me why you’re stalking an FBI agent.”
And there it was. Said right out loud. The S-word.
“I’m notstalkingher.” The lie fell easily from Britt’s tongue. Unfortunately, it tasted like piss.
“To borrow one of your favorite phrases…bullshit.”
“Okay, fine. But it’s not what you think.”
“I think she’s got a smile that could melt the brass off a doorknob. And I think one look at her makes your boy parts get bigger.”
If the Earth’s crust had chosen that moment to crack open and swallow Britt whole, it would have been a kindness.
Instead, Britt was left to grit his teeth. “So itiswhat you think. But it’s more than that. She…fascinatesme. She’s got all these interesting pieces that don’t fit together. And I can’t stop myself from trying to solve the puzzle.”
Hew’s eyes narrowed. “Care to elaborate?”
“Not really. I’d like to forget we started this conversation.”
“Humor me anyway. Unless you’d rather I got Agent O’Toole’s attention and—” Hew turned in Julia’s direction and cupped his hand around the side of his mouth like he was getting ready to shout her name. Britt astonished himself by punching Hew in the arm.
“Don’t you dare,” he hissed.
Hew lifted an unphased eyebrow. “Then give me a reason not to. I need something to make the trip out here worth it. And if you’re not willing to entertain me, then maybe the hottie with the body”—again he hooked a thumb in Julia’s direction—“will.”
“Fine,” Britt spat.
Hew crossed his arms, the picture of indolent interest.
Sighing heavily, Britt decided that maybe if he admitted his reasons for following Julia, it would take away their power. Maybe if he said the words out loud and heard how ridiculous they sounded, her hold on him would loosen.
“She’s…tough and no-nonsense, right?” They’d learned that much about her when she’d come into their lives while investigating a mass shooting at a senator’s house. “But she’s also this tenderhearted thing who collects stray animals like most folks collect Amazon boxes. She’s whip-smart, and yet she reads trashy sci-fi novels.” His words came quicker as he listed her quirks and qualities. “She pays attention to the most minuscule details when she’s on a case, but she’s a menace on the road. I’m convinced she’s paying attention to everythingbutthe fact that she’s driving when she’s behind the wheel. If there’s a pothole, she finds it. If there’s a curb, she’ll hit it. She’s a mystery inside an enigma wrapped in a boxy pantsuit. And all I want is to figure her out.”
For what felt like an eternity, Hew remained expressionless. Then he grinned—or, rather, that corner of his mouth quirked. “You like her,” Hew said.
“She has more than two brain cells to rub together and is built like a brick shithouse.” Britt shrugged noncommittally. “What’s not to like?”
“No.” Hew shook his head. “Youlikeher like her. Like, hearts and flowers like her. Because if it were anything less, you wouldn’t be stalking the woman.”
“Quit using that word.” A muscle ticked in Britt’s jaw.
“Which one? Like or stalking?”
“Now that I think of it, both.”
“Quit liking her to the point of stalking her”—Hew shrugged as if it was just that easy—“and I will.”
1
You’re being paranoid,Julia scolded herself as the coffee shop’s glass door swung shut behind her and she was swept into the crowd on the busy sidewalk.
She couldn’t shake the feeling someone was watching her, but she told herself the sensations were left over from her fifteen minutes of fame.
After she’d uncovered the culprit behind the mass shooting at Senator McClean’s residence—the villain had turned out to be none other than the frickin’ senate minority leader—the press had hailed her as the hero of the hour, and they’d spent weeks hounding her for interviews. She hadn’t been able to leave her house for a while without some over-zealous reporter shoving a microphone in her face.
