Confessions
Dalton
“I can’t believe you called that damn radio station. Are you crazy?” Tucker scowled at me, but his eyes were dancing a little despite his irritation.
“Why do you even care?” I shot back. “I couldn’t sit there and listen to them talk to her like I wasn’t going to ever call her. Like I’d blown her off or something. You know they were planting that shit in her head.”
I defended my actions, as well as my inactions when it came to getting in touch with her yesterday. After leaving the reunion and working into the early hours of the morning, I’d spent Sunday in a sleep coma, only waking up once to take a piss and get a glass of water.
“Don’t call there again,” my partner said sternly. “We need to keep a low profile because of this case, okay? Don’t get all head stupid because your heart’s all mushy.”
Tucker was right, though. I needed to keep a clear head and do whatever was needed to protect our cover. Anything that even remotely hinted at what we were doing could torpedo our whole West Coast operation. We’d have to kiss Los Angeles and this case good-bye.
“You’re right, man.”
“I hope you hit star sixty-seven before you called there.”
I nodded. Dialing that code before I called a phone number meant that my number was blocked from any caller ID systems, and at this point in my career, it had become habit.
“Good. The last thing we need is some DJ calling you up every morning for the sake of their stupid show,” he pointed out as he sipped at his coffee. “And while we’re at it, make sure you tell your girl not to say your name on the radio. Could you imagine? That’s the last thing we need.”
I nodded again, making a mental note to talk to Cammie about her job and mine later. “I know, I know, okay. I wasn’t thinking. I’ll talk to her tonight and lay down some ground rules.”
“Dalton say no talky about me to radio people or girl get it.” Tucker pounded his chest like Tarzan and grunted.
“You act like I’m going to boss her around instead of have a conversation like two grown adults.”
“You’re the caveman, not me.”
• • •
Once I finished e-mailing out my photos and notes from today’s surveillance to the rest of the squad on both coasts, I typed out a text message to Cammie.
Dalton: So, about tonight.
Cammie: I’m listening.
Dalton: I was thinking about Graziano’s on Fourth.
Cammie: Do you think we could not do the whole restaurant thing for our first date?
Dalton: Okay . . . What were you thinking then?
Cammie: My place. If that’s okay with you.
Her place? I definitely didn’t mind her place or the idea of being alone with her, but I wanted to do this right and treat her like she deserved. My phone vibrated as another message from her came through.
Cammie: It’s just that we have a lot of catching up to do, and I’d rather be alone and not worry about people listening in. Is that dumb?
Dalton: Nothing you want is dumb. I’ll only agree to this on one condition.
Cammie: I’m all ears.
Dalton: That you let me bring the food and the wine. Do you like Thai?
Cammie: I love it.
Dalton: I’ll see you in an hour. Text me your address.
After parking my car in the section marked for visitors a little while later, I pulled the bottle of wine and our takeout from the passenger seat, then set out on foot to follow Cammie’s texted directions around the large condo complex. After making a left past a set of stairs, I saw the numbers 234 on a door and I headed for it.
Knocking quickly, I then shifted the items in my hands as I waited for her to let me in. When the door opened, the first thing I noticed, aside from her hazel eyes, was that her normally dark hair had a bunch of white flecks in it. Flour, maybe? And then the smell of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies wafted at me.
Definitely flour. God, she was fucking adorable.
“Hi. Come in.” She smiled before reaching for the wine and reading the label. “This is nice, thank you. Do you hate that I didn’t want to go out?” she asked before heading down the hall.
I kicked the door closed with the heel of my shoe and followed behind her, drinking in the sight of her dressed casually in a white top and jeans. “I’m just happy to spend time with you, Cammie. I don’t care where we do it.”
This probably was a better idea, anyway. We still had a lot to talk about, and I had things I wanted to clear up before this went any further. I assumed she had the same thoughts and feelings. It would have been far less comfortable having this conversation in public, especially with constant interruptions by the wait staff.
When she set the wine on the kitchen counter, I placed our bags of takeout next to it, then reached around her waist and pulled her to me. Leaning down, I placed a kiss on her mouth, resisting the urge to rip off all her clothes and fuck her on the kitchen floor. Maybe I was a damn caveman, but clearly I was a caveman with restraint.
I reached for her hair, gently tugging at a strand with some white on it. “You have flour in your hair.”
“I do?” She grabbed the strand from my fingers and looked at it. “That’s embarrassing. I baked earlier. I made us cookies.”
“I know. I can smell them. I want to eat them all.”
She narrowed her eyes at me. “Not until after dinner, Mr. Thomas. I’ll be right back. And then I’ll give you the grand tour,” she said with a laugh before she disappeared into what I assumed was the bathroom.