Still, I kept my distance, because good men like him don’t have time for women like me.
“Merry Christmas Eve, Chief,” I say as I take a seat at the kitchen island. He doesn’t react to the sound of my voice, which means he knew I was watching him. I like that.
“Coffee?” He asks, taking out a mug.
“Tea would be better, but sure.”
He huffs a laugh. “A real stereotype.”
“Tea is infinitely nicer than coffee, Chief Gibson. I’ll get you some.”
He places a cup of steaming coffee in front of me, those astonishing eyes locking with mine. I wonder if he notices that I hold my breath whenever he looks at me. “I’ll pass, but thanks.”
“Your loss.” I make sure our fingers graze as I takethe mug, and he snatches his hand back like I’m on fire. “So, what are your Christmas Eve plans?”
“Working out. Finally getting our grocery shopping.” He gives me a pointed look, and I roll my eyes. “Then maybe cooking.”
“You can cook?”
“Not really, but we have to eat, right?” He turns his back to me and plates up bacon, eggs, and toast before placing the meal in front of me.
We sit in comfortable silence as we eat, and when my coffee is finished, he pours me a glass of orange juice.
“What are your plans?” he asks.
I swallow some toast. “I have to do some Christmas shopping.”
“Do you want company?”
“No.” I say it sharper than I mean to, and a flash of something crosses his expression.
He takes my empty plate and turns to the sink. “Just give me a list of what you need from the store, then.”
“It’s for your gift,” I add quickly. “That’s why I want to go alone.”
He seems unconvinced by the lie, and that bothers me. Everyone falls for my lies. It isn’t even difficult anymore. But he knows, and that makes me feel … raw.
“You don’t need to get me anything.”
“I want to. To say thank you.”
He washes the dish, his back to me, and doesn’t bother responding.
I want to apologize for last night. We hadn’t even been together twenty-four hours and there were already bodies in his kitchen. I didn’t think my trouble would follow me, least of all here, but I’m glad I had him with me.
And it’s the first time I’ve been able to stick around at one of my crime scenes. It was kinda cool.
“Are you going into the city?” he asks, and I nod. He tosses me his keys, and I catch them. “Then take the truck. Your piece-of-shit electric car doesn’t have much charge left. I can use it to get to and from the store.”
Shit. I really should say no. I’m about to use his car in a potential crime, depending on how accurate Alistair’s information is, but it does kind of work in my favor. And I hate charging the bloody car; it’s so boring.
“Thanks.”
I slip on my boots and coat and head out. The truck roars to life, and I make sure to pop one of my cherry sweets into my mouth before starting my drive into the city. I pick up a few things to back up my story to Guy—a small gift for him, some snacks for Christmas Day, and a board game we could play—then drive to my real destination.
And I wait.
I eat so many chocolate-covered peanut butter bars that my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth. Glugging down a bottle of sparkling water, I hunker low in my seat and sigh, staring at the glass office building.
