“Excuse me?”
For a moment, I wasn’t sure what she meant. My brain stalled, trying to process the question, before it finally clicked.
“What?” Detective Sawyer asked. “Or—I’m sorry, did I read it wrong? Is that not why you invited me out for drinks?”
Definitely not. Not even close.
But of course, she’d assume I had some kind of hidden agenda. From her perspective, it made perfect sense. The logic was sound, even if it was completely wrong. I just hadn’t expected that her mind would go in that direction, exactly.
Or maybe this was some sort of test? A way of calling me out, seeing if I’d admit to having ulterior motives? The detective was smart enough to play that kind of game, to set traps and watch people walk into them.
However, the way she was looking at me didn’t seem calculating. It almost seemed genuine. Expectant, even.
I thought she barely even liked me half the time. We’d developed a working relationship, yes, something that had evolved into grudging mutual respect and perhaps the beginnings of friendship. But this? This was something else entirely, a shift in the dynamic I hadn’t prepared for.
I had never been more confused in my life.
If this were a test, I had no doubt I was failing it horribly.
“Weird.” She squinted at me, seemingly paying no attention to my mental spiral. “That usually doesn’t happen to me. I’m always pretty spot-on about this kind of thing.”
“Detective Sawyer.” I finally found the words, though they felt clumsy in my mouth. “I think you might be drunk.”
“Oh, come on. I only had a few drinks. I’m lightly buzzed at most.” She laughed, elbows settling on the table as she studied my face with those keen eyes of hers. “But don’t try to change the subject. You still didn’t answer my question.”
I opened my mouth, then stopped, the words dissolving before they ever reached my tongue. I searched for something to say and came up short. The truth was, I hadn’t given it much thought. Not in any meaningful way, at least.
Detective Sawyer was attractive in an obvious, objective sort of way—a detail my brain had registered when we first met and then filed away without ceremony. Romantic and sexual attraction were mostly foreign concepts to me, both of which I very rarely indulged in. I just never felt the pull. And on the rare occasions that I did, it had been born out of curiosity more than anything else—a passing interest, briefly entertained and just as easily dismissed.
Detective Sawyer shouldn’t have been any different. But something about the turn this conversation had taken made me feel oddly nervous, like I was seconds away from stepping on a landmine.
“How about this?” Detective Sawyer leaned across the table, slowly closing the distance between us until her face was inches from my own. When I didn’t try to pull away, she bridged the final gap. Her lips were soft against mine, tasting faintly of whiskey. The kiss was kept brief, almost chaste, a questionposed in physical form.
I felt something—a jolt that traveled down my spine and settled warm in my chest. The bar seemed to fall away, the dim lighting and the distant sound of pool balls clicking fading into background noise.
She pulled back ever so slightly, searching my face for something, her eyes dark in the low light. “No?”
The question hung between us, delicate as spun glass.
I made a decision. Or maybe the decision made itself—I wasn’t entirely sure of the mechanics. I reached up, fingers curling gently around the back of her neck, and pulled her back in. This time, I deepened the kiss, answering her question with action instead of words. I could feel her answering grin against my mouth, triumphant and pleased.
I wasn’t sure what I was doing. This was unlike me. I was never so impulsive, never the type to throw caution to the wind without first thinking everything through.
But her mouth was warm, and her hand had found its way to my jaw, and I found I didn’t particularly care about being rational right now.
When we finally broke apart, both slightly breathless, she was smiling. “I got it right the first time, then.”
“We should—” I started, but my voice came out rougher than intended. I cleared my throat and tried again. “We should settle the bill.”
“Ever the practical one,” she said, but she was already reaching for her wallet.
There was a brief back-and-forth over the bill, but she waved off my protests, reminding me that I’d paid last time, which made this her turn. Once we stepped outside, I took the car keys out of her hand when she pulled them from her jacket.
“Hey—”
“You were drinking. I’m driving,” I said, my tone brooking no argument.
She blinked at me, momentarily taken aback, then laughed. “Well, aren’t you bossy. Consider me surprised.”
