Chapter 15

Ihad brought my work home with me. I tried not to do that, but sometimes it was unavoidable. I wanted to type up everything we had on the hair salon, to get it all in one place so maybe I could see patterns I had been missing. My boss had kicked me out of the station house at seven, and I had just come home into the office that doubled as a hairstyling practice space that I shared with Lindsey.

I had picked up a desk at a garage sale and had my laptop, and that was all I needed. Despite saying that she needed half of this room, there were no mannequins with wigs or hairstyling implements in residence. I wasn't going to say anything, though. If she wanted half the room, she was welcome to it, per our agreement. In the meantime, I was just as happy to work without vacant eyes staring at my back.

I checked the clock on my laptop. It was nine o'clock in the evening, and Lindsey still wasn't home. It felt strange living with a woman again. I was worried about her a little, even though I had no claim on her time. The only other woman I had ever lived with would stay out late on purpose to mess with me. I wondered if Lindsey was okay or if she was avoiding me.

Last night, she had been uncommunicative and clearly upset. I wasn't sure what that was all about, but fairly certain it had something to do with our ill-advised tryst. Whatever had happened in Lindsey's head, I should have known there was no such thing as a one and done. I was going to have to patch things up somehow. Of course, I couldn't do that until she got home, so I kept one eye on the time in the lower-right-hand corner as I worked.

At ten thirty, I heard the crunch of tires outside and breathed a sigh of relief. She wasn't my girlfriend, my sister, or my wife, but she was a friend, and I was a cop. I had too much experience with violence against women to fully relax until she was safe.

I thought about getting up and saying something. But what would I say? Where have you been? That was none of my business. How was your day? That seemed like dinner table conversation or something idle to fill the time, not a question one would get up purposefully to ask. Are we good? That was exactly the question that I wanted to ask, but I wasn't sure if the time was right.

She was home, she was safe, and she was likely still pissed at me, I told myself. Instead of going out to talk to her, I forced myself to concentrate on my work. A moment later, there was a knock at my door.

"Come in!" I called, getting up from my seat.

Lindsey opened the door and peered inside. "I'm sorry to disturb you."

"No problem," I said, gesturing to the laptop. "I've been working nonstop all day. It's time for a break."

"Um, I wanted to apologize for last night. I completely ignored you, and that was wrong of me." She was holding something in her hands, rubbing it between her thumb and forefinger. "I just… misinterpreted something, and it wasn't your fault, so…" She held out a gift card with a tense smile.

"Thank you," I took it, turning it over to look at the name. Bucks Hardware.

"It's downtown," she said quickly. "Between the hair salon and the police station."

"I know it," I said. "I've passed by it a couple times. Thank you." I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around her.

The hug was half-awkward, half-blissful. She felt right against my chest, and yet, our energy was off. That unspoken passion we had shared two days ago was gone, and in its place was a tentative friendship. I bowed my head and kissed her without thinking. Her lips were lush and inviting, and I momentarily forgot myself in their sweetness. She returned the favor, opening her mouth just wide enough to brush my bottom lip with her tongue. Then we both remembered that we were supposed to be roommates, and we stepped back apologetically.

"I'm sorry," I said.

"No, I'm…" she muttered, looking around at the desk, the window, anything but me. "I just wanted to say I'm sorry."

"I didn't mean to—"

"It's fine," she cut me off. "I'm gonna go take a shower." Without pausing to reestablish eye contact, she fled from the room, pulling the door shut behind her.

I stood still for a long moment, feeling confused and angry with myself. Why couldn't I keep it in my pants? Lindsey was a nice girl who didn't deserve to be taken advantage of. She had gone to all the trouble of getting me a gift, and in return I had undone all the progress we had made since that night. Oh, that night. I could still feel her body underneath mine, her passage gripping onto my rod. I could still see her splayed out on the bed, legs wide open, inviting me. Living with her was going to be harder than I had ever imagined, but I was determined to make it work. If we couldn't find a way to coexist, one of us was going to end up homeless. The further I got into the relationship, the more I realized it would be me, and not her, who ended up sleeping in the car.

I was done with my work. Even if I wanted to, I couldn't sit down and focus. I stepped out into the living room to wait. As soon as she came out, I pounced on her, creating an awkward showdown in the hallway.

"Lindsey," I said, as if there were others in the cabin.

Her hair was wet and her face free from makeup. She was obviously on her way to bed, wearing the same soft pajama bottoms I had seen on her in the driveway. I had an overwhelming urge to kiss her, to press her up against the wall again and rip off that tiny T-shirt. She looked at me expectantly, and I forced myself to think about football players or my grandmother, anything to kill the hard-on that was interfering with our lives.

"I'm sorry," I said.

"It's fine," she said automatically.

"For kissing you," I explained.

She smiled. "I kissed you back."

"Okay," I stammered. Could I make this any more uncomfortable? "Good night."

"You said you were working on the case." Lindsey hijacked the conversation in a new direction.

"Yes." I nodded.

"I just thought of something in the shower."

All I could think about was her naked body slick with water. I put on my best professional face and nodded for her to continue.

"You asked… well, Ryan asked about shipments." She moved closer, puzzling it out in her head.

"Yeah?"

"Once a week, every Wednesday, a big truck comes, and they load cash into the back of it. I always thought it was from the cash transactions—you know, customers who don't want to pay with credit cards—but now…"

I held my breath. This was potentially the breakthrough I had been looking for. "Now?" I asked.

"There aren't that many customers that pay with cash," she said. "Not enough to justify an entire truck every week. I wouldn't have said anything, but you guys said you were looking for regular deliveries. It's not a delivery, but…"

"It's perfect." I fought the urge to close the distance between us, to reach a hand behind her head and pull her into another kiss. Instead, I lunged back into my office to reopen the case file. If Lindsey was right, this could confirm my suspicions of money laundering, and we could set up a sting next Wednesday to catch the culprits in the act. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." She smiled.

I turned just before shutting the door and returned to my desk chair in amazement. It seemed like everything had been smoothed out between us. I could go back to fantasizing about her without actually touching her, and no one would have to sleep in a car. Not only that, but I was about to make headway in a case that had stymied me from the beginning. No more innocent women were going to die on my watch. I got my notes together for a meeting with the chief in the morning and logged off around midnight. As I fell asleep in my own bed, my mind reverted to our kiss, somehow more tender and meaningful than the sex.