Chapter 17

At work the next day, I logged all the photos we took, examining each of them from various angles. We had gotten a good one of the van's license plate and looked up the registration information. It had come back to a company with an innocuous name, Evergreen Holding. It sounded like a shell company, like a front for something more nefarious. I looked up Evergreen Holding and found almost no information. They were registered but had no physical address, no staff, no board members. Definitely fishy.

"I'm clocking out," Ryan said, standing up.

I checked my phone. It was almost seven. The day was over. "Do you want to grab a beer?" I asked.

Ryan thought about it for a second, then shrugged. "I don't have anywhere else to be."

"Lemme give my buddy a call," I said. I dialed Dillon and asked if he wanted to meet us at the Lucky Lady.

Of course, he had to ask his wife but got right back on the phone and agreed to join us. Ryan and I drove over to the bar, parked, and went inside. It was a slow night for the Lady, with only a few customers. We picked up some drinks and grabbed a table. A few minutes later, Dillon found us, and as soon as we were all situated with drinks, I started to loosen up.

"Have you guys met?" I asked my drinking buddies.

Ryan set his beer down and lifted a hand to call the waitress. "Yeah, we met a couple years ago when Dillon rolled into town."

"Nice town, warm welcome," Dillon agreed.

"I knew Dillon's uncle pretty well. He used to come to every high school football game and cheer us on. Games are pretty serious in a town this small."

I nodded. I had yet to attend a high school football game, but I knew the entire population turned out on Friday nights. "I'll have to go sometime."

"It's fun to watch the kids play," Ryan admitted, "but they're doing horrible this season."

Dillon and I laughed.

"So, how's sharing the cabin?" Dillon winked.

I shifted uncomfortably in my chair. "Fine, I guess."

"Just fine?" Dillon nudged.

"Is there something you're trying to ask me?" I demanded.

"Have you slept with her?" Ryan blurted out.

I didn't answer, choosing instead to work on my beer.

"You have!" Ryan slammed a palm down onto the table.

I grinned despite myself.

"I always thought Lindsey was hot," Ryan said.

"Was it just one and done?" Dillon asked.

I groaned, wanting to unload all of my anxieties but not completely comfortable with the idea. "I really should keep my hands off her. We're roommates."

"That's what you should do," Dillon pointed out. "What do you want to do?"

I cradled my beer in one hand, feeling the condensation leaking around my fingers. "I think I'm falling in love."

Dillon cheered, and Ryan booed.

"Don't do it," Ryan said.

"Love is amazing," Dillon said. "It's scary as hell, but if you just give yourself to the process, it can change your life."

Ryan took a deep swig, and when he came up for air, he told his story. "I had a crush on Ava since high school. It took me five years of working and watching her go out with some loser, to get up my courage to ask her out. I was totally in love. But then this guy came back around, and he started calling her. I was on the phone with her one night and found out she was texting this guy, at the same time as she's talking to me! I went out that night and banged another girl."

Dillon and I looked at each other. Not that "banging" was an unfamiliar term, but it wasn't how I would have described my evening with Lindsey. Nor, I guessed, would Dillon have used that word to describe what went on between him and his wife. Maybe terminology changed when you were in love.

"First of all," Dillon began his rebuttal, "every couple has conflict. You can't expect smooth sailing, or you'll just get off at the first storm you encounter."

"Do you fight with your wife?" I asked.

Dillon laughed. "Not now, but in the beginning all we did was fight. If you can get past that and into the ‘happily ever after,' you'll realize that being in love is better than having a friend or a good lay."

"Says the man with two kids," Ryan grumbled.

"Yes, I do have two kids," Dillon countered, "and I couldn't be happier." He leaned over to sidebar with me. "Do it—fall in love. You won't regret it."

"Don't do it. You'll get hurt," Ryan advised.

"Thank you both." I nodded to each of my friends. "I just feel like maybe I shouldn't get involved with Lindsey since we're living together." I took a swallow of my beer. "That doesn't change how I feel about her, though." Both Dillon and Ryan laughed, each one feeling like I was on his side of the fence.

"How do you like the job?" Dillon asked.

I shrugged. "It's okay."

"A lot of responsibility being a detective?" Dillon guessed.

"No more than usual," I said.

"That's something you want to think about." Ryan accepted his next drink from the waitress. "You can't get too deep into a relationship with our job. Too dangerous."

I couldn't repress a chuckle. Dillon looked at me sideways, his own face lighting up. Singer's Ridge was nothing next to Nashville, and Dillon knew it. Even though he wasn't a police officer any longer, he could still take the temperature of a town. Our emergency case with the four fatalities and the money-laundering business was just a regular Tuesday in the big city.

"I work a lot," I admitted, "but nothing like I used to. There were times in Nashville that I got off at four or five in the morning after spending the entire night arresting, booking, and filling out paperwork. We would have five homicides, a drug sting, two dozen prostitution busts, and a handful of drunk and disorderlies in the first two hours."

Ryan raised his eyebrows but said nothing.

"Hey, you wanna bring the ladies out on Friday?" Dillon asked suddenly.

I liked the idea but wasn't sure if Lindsey and I were ready to move into official "dating."

"I think Lindsey and Macy are friends," Dillon said. "Ava too." He tossed the invitation to Ryan.

"No, thanks," Ryan said darkly. "It's over between me and Ava."

"Are you sure?" I asked.

"Pretty sure," he said.

"Because something tells me you still have feelings for her." I grinned.

"Why would you say that?" Ryan demanded.

"When we were interrogating the girls, Ryan made me take Ava so he wouldn't have to talk to her," I told Dillon.

"Yep." Dillon nodded sagely.

"What does that mean?" Ryan asked.

"It means," Dillon explained, "that if you didn't have feelings for her, it wouldn't have been awkward to talk to her."

"No," Ryan said.

Dillon and I nodded.

"No," he said again. "It's just too soon."

Dillon shrugged. "What about you?" he asked me.

I took a deep breath and dove right in. "Okay. I'll ask Lindsey when I get home."

"Alright." Dillon held out his beer for a toast.

I clinked bottles, finishing mine off in a single gulp.

Ryan narrowed his eyes, disapproving but not enough to say anything. I kept myself at one beer, refusing the waitress when she came back to ask if we needed anything. Dillon only had one as well, while Ryan finished off the night with three. We split in the parking lot, each ready to go home to his own life.

I had Lindsey waiting for me. Dillon had Macy. Ryan had no one but might have been planning some other fun that night, and that wasn't any of my business. No, I corrected myself, Lindsey wasn't waiting for me. If she was home, she was doing her own thing. She might not even be there. This whole "are we friends, roommates, or lovers" question was really getting confusing. Maybe the double date would help move things along to a place where there were fewer questions and more answers.

I drove home to find Lindsey's car in the driveway. Stepping out of the truck, I was once again struck by the noise of the forest. Unlike the city with its car alarms and drunken shouting, the wildlife on the mountain had its own orchestra. The crickets chirped, and the wind rustled the leaves. Somewhere beyond the porch light, something moved through the underbrush. I turned away from the forest and into the cabin, setting my keys down in a bowl next to the door.

Lindsey was sitting on the couch, reading. She looked up when she heard me and smiled. "I made soup. It's in a pot on the stove."

My stomach growled, and I realized that I had neglected dinner while at the bar. I grabbed a bowl from the cabinet and poured myself some soup. It was almost a stew, with carrots, onions, potatoes, and beef. I poked at it with a spoon before digging in, standing at the island so I could look across at Lindsey.

She dropped her book reluctantly, sensing my attention. Her lips curled up into a questioning smile, her voice friendly and unassuming when she said, "What?"

"How would you feel about a double date with Dillon and Macy?" I asked.

She took her time answering, allowing the words to sink in. "You want to go on a date?" she finally asked.

I nodded.

"With me?" she asked again.

I laughed. "Yes."

"But I thought…" she began, sitting up so she could participate in the conversation better.

"We don't have to," I said quickly. "I just thought that… maybe you felt the same way that I feel." I didn't want to lay all my cards on the table, but a quick peek at my hand couldn't hurt. "This soup is really good."

"Thanks." She allowed herself to be distracted. "It's my grandmother's recipe."

I nodded. She didn't answer for so long that I was afraid I had misread the situation. Maybe she wasn't interested in me that way; maybe the sex had been just sex to her, and I was only her landlord. My heart warmed when she finally agreed.

"Yeah," she said. "I would love to go out with you."

There was so much distance between us, not to mention a couch and a kitchen island. I stood, feeling stupidly optimistic, finishing my soup before heading to bed. I was suddenly very tired, and even though my cock tried in vain to entice me to seduce Lindsey, I didn't have it in me to respond. There would be plenty of time to recreate the magic of last week. We lived together; we shared the same bathroom.

Lindsey got tired of waiting for me to come to her and stood up. She crossed the room in a few excited hops and fell into my arms. I set the bowl down with a laugh. She planted her palms against my cheeks and pulled me in for a kiss. It was deep and luxurious, almost awakening the sleeping beast in my pants. I let myself enjoy it now that my panic over being misinterpreted had passed. We had given up the charade about being just friends or roommates and admitted to ourselves that we were interested in more. Wherever this path led, we would walk it together.

"I'm sorry," I whispered when we came up for air. "I'm tired. Can we pick this back up tomorrow?"

"Oh." She stepped back, disappointed. "Sure."

I thrust one arm behind her back and pulled her against me, diving into a second kiss with more passion than I had spared for the first. With this final kiss, I planned to prove that I was invested in our happiness, that she turned me on, and I would fight even the monster of sleep for her. I submerged myself in the cavern of her mouth, sharing the taste of the soup I had so recently devoured. She sealed the kiss with a little breath. I searched her eyes for any sign of the disappointment I had seen moments ago. Instead, I found tranquility and a blossoming affection.

"Go," she said.

I smiled. "Thank you."

As I headed for the hallway, I thought I saw her lean into the island, as if she had lost her balance. I grinned. Just one kiss had affected her so much that she swooned. I looked forward to the next time I could cause her knees to buckle. We would be doing so much more than kissing. I fell asleep before my head hit the pillow, without crawling under the covers, still dressed in my work clothes.