“Speaking of poor decision-making tendencies, do you want to get dinner with me sometime?” he says casually. Too casually.
“Umm…” My brain packs up and leaves.
“Like just a meal in a get-to-know-each other way,” he explains.
My mouth opens to answer. What? I don’t know.
“Not that we can’t do anything else after dinner. I’m all up for that. Very into the idea, really,” he continues.
If my eyes get any wider, they’ll be rolling down the floor. “What—”
“We don’t have to. I mean, I get if that’s not a first date thing for you—”
“Nicholas,” I interrupt before he digs himself into a deeper hole. “Are you asking me out?” I ask him just for confirmation. Because this issostupid.
He nods, his smile smaller now, his face turning beet red. It can’t be that simple. Is he onto me? Do I need to run? No, Sam is constantly on all the databases. He’d know if anyone was looking into the murders. Besides, if he suspected the truth, he’d be here with a SWAT team and handcuffs, not blushing and making vaguely cute declarations. Not that he’s cute. Vaguelystupiddeclarations, then.
I realize he’s been staring at me while my mind tries to come up with reasons for this behavior. I need to give him an answer now. Of course, I can’t date a fucking cop. That’s the worst idea on the planet. No, theuniverse. Even though I never leave evidence lying around and am generally cautious, just being in his vicinity puts me at risk. It’s obviously a no. Ican’tdate him. Say no.Elliot, say no!“Sure,” I blurt.What?
His smile comes back on just as quickly as it left. I tamp down the need to avert my eyes because his face is so bright, it’s hard to look at. “How about Friday? I can pick you up at seven.” The exact time I leave the clinic every day.
I nod, still dazed. My mind suddenly filled with so many thoughts, it's hard to pick apart a single one long enough to form words. But I know one thing for sure, this issostupid.
“Perfect.” He nods once, then walks out.
I stand there frozen. I hear the bells above the door when it closes behind him.
Did I just agree to go on a date with Nicholas Harper? A copand a werewolf? What was I thinking? I could still cancel. Of course, I need to cancel. He took me by surprise. His presence has been a jump scare since the day I met him. My brain was obviously scrambled because of all the adrenaline. I’ll just—
“Mrs. Davis said her cat is keeping food down now,” Ashley’s voice startles me. I turn to find her standing right behind me.
“Fuck.” I rub my chest. I’m so off my game today.
“Sorry, you were just standing there.”
I close my eyes and blow out a breath. “That’s good. About the cat,” I answer her. “You should leave. It’s late. I don’t think anyone else is coming in.”
She looks at me, her heavily kohled eyes making the gaze too intense. “Are you okay?” she asks, scowling like she hated saying the words.
I nod. “Yes, go before you have a stroke trying to be nice,” I say.
“Youdo it, and you’re still standing,” she smirks.
I roll my eyes. “Well, I save it for the customers who pay. Maybe you should try that instead of scaring them away?”
“Mr. Muscles wasn’t scared.” She glances at the door. “Does he ever stop smiling? It’ssostupid,” she says.
See, she gets it. The thought makes me weirdly protective of Nicholas, though.Ugh. The guy has messed up my head. “Whatever. I’ll see you tomorrow.” I wave over my shoulder, already escaping to my office.
I need an out of this disaster.
***
I pace my tiny office, convincing myself it’s not as bad as I think. I’ll text Oliver and get Nicholas’s number. I can draft up a nice, polite text telling him I don’t date, which is a hundred percent true fact that my temporary malfunction made me forget. It’s already messy, time-consuming, and a lot of workwithoutthe constant worry of your boyfriend finding evidence against you because he’s a cop and has supernatural senses.
Then there’s the whole thing about Mickey. Isn’t it too much of a coincidence that he started showing interest in me a few days after he accidentally adopted my victim’s dog? But it’s not like Mickey could have narrated the events of that night to him. I’m pretty sure even werewolves can’t communicate with dogs. I have had my werewolf clients ask me enough weird questions about their pets to be certain.
This is too much. I clearly need to talk to someone rational.
