Then she turns and heads through the sliding doors.
I scratch my head, get into the van, and wait for Hunter. When he slides into the driver’s seat, I say, “Women, right?”
Hunter nods, even without any context. “Women.”
Some days, that’s all you can say.
Women are just too hard to figure out.
Especially when they give no flirty replies to your clever chalkboard messages.
As I get ready to clock out, the boss man strides over to me and parks a hand on my shoulder. “Good work on your second week,” Granger says. “It’s almost like you’ve done this before.”
I smile, since he knows I’ve put in a decade. “Yeah, just a little bit.”
Granger’s expression turns more serious. “Hoping you like it here. We need regulars. We need guys to stick around.”
“Sure,” I answer. What else can I say? My situation hasn't changed since lunch. But this job and this town work for now.
Granger squeezes my shoulder. “Let me know if I can do anything to help you settle in.”
I’m tempted to ask if he knows any long-term places to stay, but I need to handle this Perri awkwardness first. I won’t run without reasoning it out—or trying, at least.
“Thanks. I will.”
I leave, heading to the gym for a workout, where Hunter texts me that the guy with the heart attack is doing better and the ladder fellow is stable.
I smile as I reply between sets.
Derek: And you are not an angel of death today.
Hunter: There’s always tomorrow, mwah ha ha. And now I must go consume a pizza.
Derek: I’ll cheer you on in the pizza-eating contest.
Hunter: Go eat a leaf, bro.
I close the thread and resume my workout, listening to my audiobook as I lift harder and heavier, the sweat dripping down my chest, my muscles burning. When I’m done, I head to the lot where I keep my bike. Briefly, I think of my sister, and how straightforward she is. If Perri’s irked at me for Lord knows what, the least I can do is be up front.
I text her to give her a heads-up on when I’ll be home, figuring it’s the least I can do if she’s got an issue with me.
Derek: Be home around 7:30.
Perri: 10-4
I stare at the reply like if I look hard enough, I can decipher it. Decode the hidden meaning.
But what the fuck? TEN-FOUR?
Ten fucking four?
Jesus Christ. What did I do to her?
Along the way to my bike, I pass A New Chapter, and I duck into the local shop to grab some goodies for the rug rats. In the kids’ section, I find a picture book on safari animals, then an early reader on basketball and baseball for Travis. I grab both and head to fiction to see if there’s a copy of Mr. Mercedes. I left that book behind in the move and keep meaning to reread it.
I’m hunting through the shelves when a blonde woman strides by, smiles, and asks if I need any help. I tell her the name of the book.
“We just got a new paperback shipment in. Let me grab it.”
“Thanks so much,” I say, instead of ten-four. Because, hello? Who the hell says ten-four?
Except, well, maybe cops and rescue workers, I admit to myself grudgingly.
I head to the counter to wait for the blonde lady, and a furry calico rubs up against my leg.
“Hey there, sweet pea,” I say to the kitty, and she proceeds to rub her face against my leg, kicking the purr box into high gear. “Well, meow to you too.” I bend to scratch her chin, and she offers a most appreciative meow. “You’re one pretty lady, aren’t you?”
The cat rubs harder, purrs louder.
“It seems Clare wants to adopt you,” the blonde says as she returns to the front with a book in hand.
“She’s a sweetheart, and I’d take her up on it if I could.”
The woman laughs. “You should hear what my boyfriend says about her. Gabe is convinced Clare is plotting his doom.”
I laugh. “Your man has jealousy issues with the cat?”
“Something like that,” she says, then her eyes linger for a second on my arms. “You’re Derek, aren’t you?”
“I am. How’d you know?”
“Shaw mentioned something at dinner the other night. We’re all friends. I’m Arden.”
“Nice to meet you, Arden. And if you know Shaw, you must know Perri, then.”
Arden smiles warmly as she scans the book. “I’ve known her since we were six. She’s one of my best friends.”
“Yeah?” I want to ask a ton of questions, but I’m not sure where I’d start. Except I’m damn curious what the hell makes that woman tick. “Hope she said nice things about me.”
Arden simply smiles, her eyes roaming over my arms again to the sunbursts and arrows on my skin.
That makes me think that Perri did indeed say nice things about me. I have a hunch I know exactly what she told her friends.
And that reminds me that I do know what makes Perri tick—a helluva lot.
She told me so herself.
I’m going to have some fun with Miss Ten-Four.
Oh yes, I am.
17
Derek
Her car is outside, so I know she’s home. But I don’t look for her. That’s not our deal. I head to the back door, unlock it, and peer down the hall. I don’t see her in the kitchen.
That’s fine, especially since my first order of business is a shower.
It’s almost always a shower. After the gym, after work, whatever. I need the time to wash away the day and let it go. Too much goes on in my life, too many things I can take home with me. It’s best to find a way to shed them.
For me, that’s a hot shower.
After I dry off, I grab a pair of basketball shorts and tug them on, then hunt for a T-shirt. I snag a gray one from my duffel and pull it over my head, then I stop.
I know this woman’s weakness.
And I’m going to exploit it.
Because I fucking can.
Tossing the shirt to the bed, I make sure the waistband of my shorts rides low, and I go downstairs. When I open the door to the kitchen, I call out playfully, “Honey, I’m home.”
I swear I can hear her roll her eyes.
“Hey.” Her voice is emotionless.
“Can I come into the witch’s den?”
“Lair. It’s a lair.”
“May I enter?”
“At your own risk.”
I walk into the kitchen first and see my note is still up on the board. What the hell? How could she not like this note? It’s fucking adorable, and I am not an adorable man. Huffing, I grab the chalkboard and carry it to the living room where she’s curled up on the couch in yoga clothes, her hair in a ponytail, her knees up, and her head bent over her laptop. I brandish the chalkboard in front of my chest. Let her wait before she can see the twelve-pack I’m packing. “You working?”
She doesn’t look up. “Yup. Reports. Trying to work on this jewelry store—” She glances up, narrowing her eyes. “What are you doing?”
“Did you not see my awesome note?”
She licks her lips. “I saw it this evening when I grabbed an apple.”
I eye her suspiciously. “You. You, who are addicted to coffee? You’re telling me you weren’t in the kitchen this morning?”
She shakes her head. “No, Detective McBride. I was not at the scene of the chalkboard crime. I had to leave quickly. I grabbed coffee at the station. I didn’t even go into the kitchen.”
“But you saw it tonight?”
“Yes, I saw it a little while ago when I returned home, and I’m also seeing it now, since you’re shoving it in my face.”
My gaze drifts down to the words I wrote in pastel yellow chalk. “Read it to me.”
She sighs, as if thoroughly annoyed. “Why do you want me to read it to you?”
“Because you’ve been giving me the cold shoulder, Miss Ten-Four.”
“My text reply was warranted. You’d only sent me a heads-up message.”
I tap the chalkboard. “And this is not a heads-up message. This is fucking flirty. Read it aloud.”
A smile tugs at her lips, and she seems to fight to rein it in. She draws a breath and reads. “Sorry I didn’t make it back in time to whip up a delicious chicken and broccoli dish for you. I’ll make it up to you. I promise. Also, I know what sound giraffes make. Ask me. :)”
I stab a finger against the board. “I used an emoticon. I hate emoticons.”
She smirks. “Okay, what sound do giraffes make?”
“I’m not telling you till you say you’re sorry.”
She laughs. “For what?”
“For assuming I was a dick.”
“I did not assume you were a dick,” she says, challenging me.
“A little dick?”
She gives me a sassy look. “Oh, I don’t think it’s little.”
I laugh. “It’s not little at all. It’s exactly the size you want.”
“Is it?”
“Kitten, you know you want to ride me.”
She rolls her eyes. “That is not what we’re talking about.”
“We’re talking about how you thought I ditched you.”
“I didn’t think that,” she says, defensively. Too defensively.
“You did. You thought I stood you up and didn’t leave a note, and you gave me the cold shoulder at the hospital, and then the cold text.”
“I had to take a report on a three-car crash! My colleague who’s up for the same promotion had just walked in ahead of me. We were working.”
Fine. She makes a fair point. But still, it’s time to pull out all the stops. I drop the chalkboard, and she gasps.
It worked.
I walk closer to her, half-naked, giving her the full view of my chest, abs, and V-line. Maybe I’m cocky, maybe I’m overly confident, but I don’t give a shit. I’ve worked my ass off to look good shirtless. Pretty sure Perri likes what she sees a lot, judging from the way those green eyes eat up my chest, stroll over my abs, and linger on my hips, where a flock of silhouetted birds flies up the V-line and around my hip.