Page 58 of Until You

I’m a strong person. I learned through this whole experience that I don’t need anyone. But I’ve also never met a man who wears his thoughts and heart on his sleeve as easily and as genuinely as Crew does.

And after today, after feeling so vulnerable, his sincerity over how I should trust him and let him be there for me gets to me.

It makes me want him that much more.

He tried to make me cupcakes.

He had his first parenting breather without his girls, and he chose to come and check on me.

Crew’s chair scrapes on the floor as he stands and follows me the short distance into the family room.

“What departments or squads or whatever you call it did you work in?” I reach down and pet Hani, who is staring at Crew like who is this man in my house?

“Cybercrime. Homicide. Sexual assault. Narcotics. A little bit of everything over the years.”

Narcotics.

Of course, he worked narcotics.

I’d like to pretend that Kaleo was based out of San Francisco so a cop from Chicago might have no clue who he was, but his trial was covered nationally. His collar was a huge feather in the DEA’s cap, and they wanted the US citizens to know it.

“What else about my work do you want to know?”

“Tell me about a memorable call.” I adjust the blinds and turn to face him. He’s taken a seat on the arm of the couch, a curious look on his face as he tries to read me.

Good luck with that one.

“That’s what you want to know? A memorable call?”

“Yep. A funny one.”

He darts his tongue out to wet his lower lip, and again, my brain—and other parts of my body—go into overdrive.

“We responded to a call in an upper-class, suburban neighborhood. A lady called, frantic. She swore her neighbor was being assaulted. Murdered is what she told the 911 operator. She said she heard some yelling, some weird noises, then her male neighbor screaming for help. She was too scared to try the doors and go in, afraid the perp might still be there.”

“I’m afraid to ask what you found.”

“We roll up, breach the door, and”—he starts chuckling—“we’ll just say that the owners of the house had been having some fun. She was tied up to the four corners of the bed. Consensual, nothing criminal there, but apparently, mid-stroke, the husband’s back went out. He was laid out on top of her and couldn’t move in all his latex-clad glory.”

“Oh. My. God.”

“Yep.” He chuckles like he still can’t believe it even now. “Needless to say, we let the paramedics handle the . . . dismount, so to speak. And we waited for a female officer to untie the wife.”

I’m blushing for the couple.

I’m also noticing the firmness of his thighs and how they frame the arm of the couch.

“I would die.”

He quirks an eyebrow, eyes locked on mine as a crooked smile ghosts his lips. “It’s just sex, right? Everybody does it.”

His words hang in the air between us, my tongue suddenly heavy.

“Where are the girls?”

Classic, awkward Tennyson is back.

“Phoebe, one of the friends they made the other day when I took them to the park, called. Or texted rather, because who calls anyone these days?” He rolls his eyes dramatically just like the girls do, and I laugh. “I met her mom—I actually remember her from the last time I was here when I was ten. They invited the girls to go to the movies with them.”