Page 92 of Tied Over

“No, they won’t,” Cho agreed. “Kage has given him a chance to redeem himself, but idiotic comments like that will not make our boss happy, and we all know it.”

“I know,” Yamane said with a sigh. “He’s awkward sometimes.”

“He’s a waste of a badge,” Bodhi said, his voice a rasp of icy disgust.

The car was silent as we descended.

“Nobody’s mad at you, you know that,” I made clear to Yamane. “And sticking up for your partner is admirable.”

He nodded.

We all faced forward when people joined us on the sixth floor, and even when they got off two floors down, the subject remained closed. When Pazzi tried to get on when we hit the third, Bodhi just shook his head. It would take him a minute to get over that. He was not in a forgiving mood.

Bodhi and I drove to my place, and since my keys had the fob for the garage door, we parked in there.

“There’s an opener upstairs that we’ll put in your car,” I told him.

“Yeah, it’s nice in here. My car likes it.”

I chuckled as we got out. “Is that right?”

“Yep,” he assured me. “Feels like it was meant to be.”

It did to me as well.

Trudging up the stairs, I realized how bone tired I was. We’d been gone such a short time, but it felt like forever.

“There’s nothing in your fridge,” he told me, walking toward the front door. “I checked before we left. Since we gotta eat, I’m going to run down to the deli and get us—”

“No,” I said, stepping in front of him. “Just have something delivered. Kage wouldn’t want either of us to be alone. It’s not safe.”

“Kage wouldn’t want?” he baited me with a smirk.

“Fine. I don’t want you out of my sight.”

“All right, then.”

We stood there staring at each other, and it seemed so normal and easy. And yes, we were in a crisis, but at the same time, I felt so good.

Bodhi said, “I’ll order soup and sandwiches, and we’ll take a shower and eat and go to bed.”

“Go to bed?”

He shook his head at me. “You’re such a perv.”

“No, I just, you know, have been thinking about it since we met, is all.”

“Me too, but you are hurt and tired, and that is not what I call a recipe for a memorable night or day or whatever it is now.”

“Morning,” I told him.

“Okay,” he said, then chuckled.

“What?”

“I’m imagining falling asleep while giving you a blowjob.”

“Stop.”