She shrugs, lifting her mug to her lips, the edge of a grin tugging there. “Doesn’t hurt.”
My knee bumps hers as I shift. The contact’s minor, barely anything, but it sparks something stupid in my chest. Suddenly, the couch feels smaller. Warmer. Her leg stays pressed against mine, casual, like she doesn’t notice—or maybe she does. I shift, pretending to get comfortable, silently ordering my body to calm the hell down.
She glances over, tilting her head. “So… when the lights flash behind a car, do you ever feel bad for pulling people over?”
“Depends who’s driving,” I say, grateful for the distraction. “If they’re texting or doing eighty in a fifty, not a chance. If it’s some old guy who forgot his blinker, maybe a little.”
Olivia hums thoughtfully. “Do you all talk to each other with walkie-talkies?”
“Radios,” I correct. “We talk to dispatch, call in locations, and update. If I say ‘red and ten,’ it means lights on, in pursuit, or responding. ‘Blue and ten’ means no lights, but ten minutes out.”
Her eyes light up. “You have your own language! That’s so cool.”
“More like a shorthand for chaos,” I say. “Cuts down the small talk when emergencies arise.”
She leans her chin on her hand. “Okay, serious question. What about high-speed chases? Are they real or just TV dramas, like that?” She nods to the screen where Nolan and Chen are weaving through LA traffic.
“Real enough,” I admit, smirking. “Mostly, though, it’s paperwork, noise complaints, and telling drunk idiots to put their pants back on.”
Olivia’s giggle breaks through the quiet. “Wow. So glamorous.”
“What can I say? Intelligent man, thrilling life.”
She scoffs. “Yeah, sure. Super thrilling.”
I take a sip of my tea to hide my smirk. “We don’t stay rookies forever, you know.”
“Oh, that’s right—Superintendent,” she says, wiggling her brows. “So, whatdoyou actually do all day, Mister Fancy Title?”
She shifts slightly, and my body reacts before my brain can keep up. Her knee brushes my thigh, light but deliberate, and I adjust my position before this situation gets any more complicated. Images flash in my head—her soaked shirt from the storm, the feel of her pressed against me—and I curse myself for remembering in high definition. Christ, was she always this close?
I clear my throat, forcing my focus somewhere safer. “Mostly yoga,” I force out, casually. “Sometimes we meditate with the crime reports to really get in the zone.”
Her head jerks toward me, eyes wide. “Wait… you can’t be serious?”
I wink. “Nah.”
Her shoulder brushes against mine as she relaxes back into the couch, and my restraint thins by the second.
“Truth is, I work in the intelligence division. I handle case data, coordinate with detectives… the not-so-glamorous side of keeping chaos in order.” I glance over at her. “Bradley’s titled Chief Superintendent now, so technically, I work under him as just a Superintendent. Don’t tell him I said that, though. His ego’s already got its own office. We pretty much do everything together, anyway.”
Her eyes light up. “So, you’re kind of a big deal.”
“Pretty much.”
“Oh-ho-ho, whose ego’s big now?”
The corner of my mouth tugs, though nothing can prepare me for what she blurts out next.
“Well, did you know octopuses have three hearts and blue blood?”
I almost choke on my sip of tea. “What?”
She nods, straight-faced. “Two hearts for the gills, one for the rest of the body.”
A low laugh rumbles out of me. “Where’d you learn that?”
She grins, smug. “I dunno. Maybe I’m just very intelligent, too.”
