He glanced down at her hand, so very delicate and soft. He stroked his thumb across her knuckles. Would the rest of her arm feel this soft? When she slowly pulled away from him, his chest clenched. It was because of Reeder, he just knew it.
“I better go,” he said, turning toward the door.
She grabbed his arm. “You’re not going anywhere, Hamill.”
Hope sprang inside of him, and he swung his head toward her. But her expression wasn’t exactly a pleasant one. She appeared stern. Even her grasp was a little tight. “I’m not?”
“No. You’re drunk, so I’m taking you home.” Her face relaxed slightly. “After all, I got your back, remember?”
Chuckling, he rested against the seat and nodded. “Then take me home, partner.”
They didn’t talk much on the way to his apartment. Her radio was playing classic rock, but for some reason, it calmed him. He preferred country music, but it was enjoyable watching Brittany drive and sing along with the artists. A few times, she tried to be funny on purpose, and he laughed.
Seeing her this way made him realize she was different on the job. She was more serious and focused. Off duty, she was laid back and easy going. And yes, even silly. His heart couldn’t help but squeeze tighter with longing. Why was he allowing his emotions to come forth now when he’d kept them in check for a year? Was it because of his jealousy for Reeder?
No matter what, he needed to find evidence that proved Reeder was the murderer. That was the only way to bring Britt back to him where she belonged.
Finally, she pulled in front of his apartment building and put the car in park. She smiled at him—a smile that had always softened his heart.
“Do I need to walk you to your apartment? Or can you do that yourself?”
“I think I can handle it.” He took her hand again. “Thanks for caring enough to want to see me home safe.”
“Kurt, I just can’t believe you were drinking while on the job. That’s not like you at all.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“So why were you? You’ve hung out in bars before working undercover, and you’ve never drank. So why now?”
He shrugged. “Maybe it was because I was bored with watching the sports station that was on the tv. Or maybe it was because I was tired of hearing the waitress flirt with the bar tender. Then again, I think it was because,” he sat up and leaned toward her, “I was tired of hearing my partner play kissy-face with the perp.”
She scolded. “Kurt Hamill! I did not play kissy-face with Austin. I’ll admit, he did try to kiss me after dinner, but once I started arm wrestling with him, that moment passed.”
“Don’t tell me he didn’t try to kiss you goodnight before you left.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Even if he did, it’s none of your business.”
“I think differently, Russell.” He leaned a little closer. “I’m your partner! And you’re a police detective. Kissing a perp is wrong on so many different levels, and you know it.”
Scowling, she shook her head. “You’re full of it, Hamill. Why is it wrong for me to pretend while I’m undercover, and yet it’s not wrong for you to do it?” She paused, leaning closer into him. “Many times when you have gone undercover, you have pretended to seduce women just to get answers. What’s the difference between what you have done and what I’m doing? Not only that, I’ve gone undercover before and pretended to seduce a perp for answers, and it never bothered you then.”
“Do you mean to tell me you don’t know this?” He raised his voice.
“No, Hamill. Please enlighten me.”
“I’ll tell you what the difference is. The difference is back then, I was never jealous of the perp…not like I am with Reeder.” She sucked in a quick breath as her eyes widened. “And another difference is that when you kiss him, you enjoy it, whereas you’ve never done that before.”
She slowly mouthed the wordno. His fuzzy mind told him to continue. “And, another difference is that with this case, more than the others, I’ve been thinking about you different. I’ve been wondering what it would be like to be Reeder—to hold you, and kiss you passionately.”
“No, Kurt,” she whispered.
His breathing was ragged as he stared into her lovely eyes. She didn’t pull away, but he didn’t think that meant she realized she wanted him as much as he wanted her, either. His confession had probably shocked her, which is only a natural reaction.
Why was he even trying? It was obvious where her heart lied, and it was certainly not with him.
“Oh, never mind. Forget I said anything,” he snapped and hurried out of the car.
He focused on the pathway to his apartment. His head pounded with adrenaline, and he cursed his drunkenness. If he’d been sober, he wouldn’t have said anything to her. He would have continued to hold the anguish inside. He would have dealt with it—just as he had to deal with this feeling for her ever since they were partnered together.
