Chapter 3: Ian

The next morning, while I feed the babies, Tyler makes us breakfast. I enjoy watching him standing in front of the stove wearing nothing but a pair of navy blue knit shorts, his feet and torso bare, his short dark hair mussed from sleep. I'm loving these lazy mornings when we get to hang out at home and simply enjoy each other's company. I know they won't last forever because in six weeks our paternity leave will end. And frankly, I don't want to think about that right now.

I absolutely hate the idea of leaving our babies and going back to work. Tyler keeps asking me what we're going to do about childcare, and frankly I don't want to think about it. Get a babysitter? A nanny? Find a daycare? I can't even contemplate the idea.

I want to be the one to take care of our babies. I wonder how Tyler would feel if I stayed home with them. Would he be disappointed in me? The plan was for us to work together as private investigators—as partners. And as much as I love the idea of working with Tyler, I want to stay home with our kids.

It's not that money is an issue. My paternal grandfather, Tobias Alexander, made sure of that when he left both me and my sister huge trust funds upon his death. I don't have to work a day in my life if I don't want to. But that's not the point.

Tyler and I embarked on the PI business together, as partners. In fact, it was my idea. I wanted to work with him. I wanted us to spend our days together, as well as our nights. It was something we were going to do as a team.

I've loved all the stakeouts we've been on, the two of us holed up in his car late into the night—or into the wee hours of the morning as was most often the case, sharing a thermos of coffee, eating snacks I packed for us. I mostly got a kick out of spending time with him.

In the beginning, when I suggested we work together, he was afraid I'd get hurt. He's a twenty-plus-year veteran of the Chicago Police Department, and I have zero experience. I'd never even held a gun before Tyler took me to the shooting range for lessons.

I had to beg him to let me work with him. Reluctantly, he finally agreed. And after all that, how can I tell him I've changed my mind? How can I tell him I want to stay home with our babies?

Right now, I'm sitting at the kitchen table giving Lizzie her bottle, while Will hangs out on top of the table in his infant seat. He's already had his bottle, so he's content to lie there and stare at the ceiling light overhead.

Lizzie is halfway done with her breakfast when there's a knock at the back door.

I automatically start to get up, but Tyler gestures for me to stay seated and says, "I'll get it."

He opens the door and steps aside as a very frazzled Kimi comes in. She pauses at the threshold, breathing heavily as she stands there wringing her hands. Her spiky purple hair is uncharacteristically flat and dull. She looks like she recently rolled out of bed.

"Kimi, what's wrong?" Tyler asks, automatically switching to his cop voice. Instantly, his demeanor changes from relaxed to sharp and focused.

"I'm really sorry to bother you guys," she says. Nervously, she runs the fingers of one hand through her hair.

"It's no problem, Kimi," I say. She doesn't look good. She looks stressed, and if I had to guess, I'd say she didn't get much sleep last night.

"I know you're both still on leave," she says, her eyes darting to the baby in my arms, "and you're not taking any cases right now." She pauses, looking from me to Tyler. "But—"

"What is it, Kimi?" I ask. Because something clearly is very wrong.

"I hate to even ask," she continues. "I really do. And I wouldn't if it weren't so urgent."

"Kimi," Tyler says in his bossy voice. "Tell us what's wrong."

"It's my roommate, Dina. She didn't come home last night. I waited up for her, but she never showed. That's so not like her."

"Did you try calling her?" Tyler asks.

Kimi nods. "I've been calling and texting since the wee hours, but she's never replied."

"Where was she last night?" Tyler asks, immediately jumping into investigative mode.

"She went out clubbing with her friend Teresa and Teresa's boyfriend, Neil. I called Teresa first thing this morning and asked when she last saw Dina. She said it was around two-thirty, when Dina called for a rideshare at the club. Teresa said she and Neil watched her get into the car and drive off, but she never arrived home." She looks from Tyler to me, her gaze beseeching. "It's not like Dina to run off without telling anyone. Besides, she works today, and she never misses work. Something has to be wrong. I hate to ask—"

"It's all right, Kimi," Tyler says as he wipes his hands on a kitchen towel. "I'll find her."

"You will?" Her eyes light up. "Oh, Tyler, thank you."

"You know the drill," Tyler says. "Text me everything you can think of—a physical description of your roommate, a recent photo. Tell me what you know about where she went last night, her place of employment, and the names and numbers of her friends. I'll need Teresa's contact info and address."

Kimi nods eagerly as she backs toward the door. "I'll return to the office and gather the info for you."

Tyler brings me a plate of scrambled eggs and two slices of buttered toast. He goes back for silverware and a jar of strawberry jam. He points his index finger at me. "You eat, while I go get dressed."

"Aren't you going to eat something before you go?" I ask as he walks toward the stairs.

Tyler shakes his head. Once he's in work mode, he's laser-focused, like a dog with a bone. "I'll grab something later. Right now, every second counts."

"Wait! I want to come up with you. Can you grab Will? I'll bring Lizzie."

Tyler frowns at me. "What about your breakfast? The food will get cold."

"I'll heat it up and eat it after you've gone. I promise."

Tyler and I each carry a baby upstairs to our bedroom. He lays Will in his bassinette, and I lay Lizzie on the changing table. Now that they have full bellies, they're ready for clean diapers and a nap.

Tyler heads for our bathroom so he can grab a quick shower and dress. By the time I've got Lizzie back in her bassinette and I'm changing Will, Tyler comes out of the bathroom wearing a white bath towel wrapped around his waist. He's drying his hair with another towel. I watch him cross the room and disappear into our closet to dress.

Once I have both babies safely in their cradles, I head for the closet to indulge in one of my favorite activities, which is watching my husband get dressed. He's a former detective—of course he's going to put on a suit. And Tyler in a black suit and white dress shirt is fucking hot. There's no other way to describe it.

As I'm leaning against the doorjamb, my arms crossed over my chest, I look my fill as he pulls on his black boxer briefs, drawing them up his long, muscular legs. Then he steps into a pair of black trousers. A white short-sleeve T-shirt is next, followed by a long-sleeve white button-down shirt, both of which he tucks into his trousers. Then comes one of my favorite accessories—his black leather belt. I watch him thread it through his belt loops, then cinch it snug and buckle it.

Watching him handle a leather belt makes my tummy feel weird, in the most delicious way.

As he takes a seat on a padded bench, he glances over at me, a knowing grin on his face. "Enjoying the show?"

I nod. "You bet I am."

Tyler pulls on a pair of black socks, followed by his shiny black Oxfords. Lastly, he stands and slips his black suit jacket on.

My breath catches. This is the man I first met—the gruff homicide detective investigating the murder of my friend Eric Townsend at the yacht club. My boat was moored right next to Eric's boat. The first time I saw Tyler, I was sitting on the dock trying not to puke. Seeing Eric's dead body—his tortured body—sickened me to my core.

I remember the moment I first heard Tyler's deep voice as he assumed control of the crime scene. I vividly recall staring down at a pair of polished black shoes, and as my gaze lifted to his face, my pulse started pounding. He was the most gorgeous man I'd ever seen.

And now, after a tumultuous start, we're married and parents.

"Ian." His voice has dropped an octave.

I realize he's watching me staring at him. I salute. "Yes, sir."

He cocks an amused brow at me. " Sir? Really?"

My face heats. "I can't help it. You're putting out cop vibes. You know what that does to me."

He walks right up to me, until we're standing eye-to-eye. He's only a bit taller than my six feet. "Hold on to that thought. We can play cop when I get home tonight. Now, I need to know you're okay with me taking on this case."

"Of course," I say, surprised that he'd even feel the need to ask. "This is for Kimi . She's not just our employee. She's our friend. Of course you have to help her."

He nods. "I needed to be sure. I didn't want you to feel I was going back on my word. We agreed we'd take parental leave, and now here I am taking on a case after only two weeks."

I lean in to kiss him. My fingers are in his hair, which is still damp from his shower, and right now I can't get close enough to him. "I love you," I say against his lips. "I'm perfectly fine with you going out and being a hero. Go find Kimi's roommate."

Tyler's arms come around me, and he pulls me even closer. "I'll make it up to you later, I promise."

Grinning, I run my hands up his chest, smoothing the fine fabric of his shirt over his firm pecs. "You bet you will."

The last thing he does before leaving the closet is open the gun safe embedded in the wall. As soon as we learned we were going to be parents, he had a gun safe built into our closet. He wanted a secure place to store his guns and ammo—something our children would never have access to. He enters the code into a digital panel, opens the door, and pulls out his hip holster, which he secures around his waist. He tucks his Glock in on one side and two magazines on the other. Also attached to his hip holster are a pair of handcuffs and a slender flashlight.

Seeing him armed reminds me of how serious this PI job can be. You never know when things are about to go south. "Be careful," I say, my smile suddenly gone.

I'm only now realizing how much is on the line. It's not just me he needs to come home to. He has two children now who depend on him.

Tyler nods, his expression serious, as if he knows what I'm thinking. "Always." He kisses me one last time before he walks out of the closet.

I watch as he strolls over to the bassinettes, and my throat tightens when he leans down and kisses first Lizzie on her forehead, then Will. Then, to me, he says, "Take good care of our babies."

I nod.

Our babies.

Dear God, this man makes me weak in the knees.