“You did?” My voice is breathy as I look into his eyes.
“Yeah.” His finger swipes my lip once more. “Did you think about it? About not getting it from me before I left?”
I should tell him no. I should lift my hands to push him away, but instead, I nod then close my eyes as he dips his head to brush his mouth across mine.
“Softest lips I’ve ever felt,” he murmurs. My eyes flutter open and my heart starts to pound. “I’ll follow you home.” He takes a slight step back, making me feel suddenly cold. “We’ll order something in for dinner when we get there.”
“‘Kay,” I agree without thinking then slide in behind the steering wheel when he opens my door. Once I’m inside, he shuts my door, and until I start the engine, he doesn’t walk away. With the engine running, I watch him go to his truck parked a few spots away and get in. I pull out before him and see him in my rearview mirror, following me home.
When we reach my place, I park then get out, heading for the mailbox as he parks his truck in my driveway behind my car. After I grab the mail, I turn around and see him drag a large black duffle bag from the back. I don’t ask him what’s in the bag, because I already know the answer to that question. Obviously, he’s planning on staying the night, but not planning on having to go home early to shower and change before work tomorrow. His assumption that he’s sleeping over should annoy me, but it doesn’t. Instead, I feel relieved at the idea of having him close and being able to get some sleep tonight.
When I’m halfway to my front door, my cell phone rings, so I pull it out and look at the screen. Seeing Brie’s name, I know I can’t ignore her call; she won’t give up if I don’t answer, and instead she will show up in person and demand answers. I put my phone to my ear and I pause in the middle of saying hello, watching as Cobi pulls out my spare key and opens my front door.
“Brie, I need to call you back,” I say into the phone, hearing her shout “What?” before I hang up on her.
“You still have my key.”
At my statement, Cobi turns to look at me over his shoulder.
His eyes roam my face and he smirks, muttering. “You didn’t ask for it back.”
Taking a few steps forward, I stop at the bottom of the steps, looking up at him. “I didn’t know I had to ask you for my key back, since it’s—” I point at myself. “—my key.”
“You gave it to me.”
Shaking my head, I sputter. “I didn’t give it to you. I let you borrow it.”
“Whatever. Do you know what you want for dinner?”
“Whatever? Seriously?” I plant my hands on my hips.
“Babe, you’re exhausted. I’m exhausted and I’m also hungry. So as cute as you are when you’re pissed, I don’t have it in me to spar with you over a fucking key.”
I ignore the whole ‘you’re cute’ thing and focus on the rest. “I’m not sparring with you. I’m pointing out that you still have my key.” I frown. “Did you use it yesterday when I wasn’t home?”
“Yep,” he states easily.
This guy just cannot be believed. “I want the key back,” I tell him, holding out my hand and stomping up the steps to where he’s standing.
“Sure.” He drops it in my open palm, and I look at it then him in surprise. “Doesn’t really matter; I made a copy this afternoon so you wouldn’t be out a spare.”
“You’re crazy,” I whisper. I knew him just handing me over the key was too easy. I just had no idea it was easy because he was giving me a key he already made a copy of it.
“Maybe.” He shrugs before grabbing my hand and pulling me into the house. When I’ve cleared the door, he closes it behind me. He lets my hand go and heads toward the kitchen, leaving me staring after him.
“I think you might need some help,” I tell him as he drops his duffle bag near the door to my bedroom.
When he turns to look at me, he smiles like he thinks I’m joking. “Baby.”
“No, really, who does that? Who does any of the stuff you’re doing?” I toss my arms up in frustration.
“A man who is interested in a woman.” He shrugs then pulls out his phone. “Now, what do you want to eat? I was thinking Indian food, but really I’m good with whatever.”
Looking into his eyes, I know for certain that he’s not going to see how crazy he’s acting, how irrational his actions are. Not having the energy to confront him and convince him that he might be insane, I go to the island he’s standing near and set down my purse. “Indian sounds good.”
He smiles before asking, “Do you know what you want?”
“Cheese naan, not plain, and butter chicken.”
“Got it.” He lifts his chin toward the cell phone still in my hand. “You might wanna call your girl back. I’m sure she’s worried.”
As he puts his cell phone to his ear to place our order, I shake my head and walk toward my bedroom, dialing Brie as I go. She answers on the first ring and doesn’t even give me a chance to say hello before she shoots off a rapid succession of questions. I answer each one the best I can, but tell her that I will have to talk to her in person about all things Cobi, since he’s only a room away. Reluctantly, she agrees after making me promise to do dinner tomorrow just her and me.
After we hang up, I change into different clothes, putting on a pair of leggings and a baggy shirt before going to the living room. Cobi is on the couch with the TV on, not watching it. Instead, his eyes are on a laptop he has resting on the coffee table in front of him. I study him for a few moments, taking in his relaxed posture and the look of concentration on his face.
He must feel me watching him, because he turns to look at me and does a head-to-toe sweep. “Everything okay with Brie?”
“Yeah, but as usual, she’s worried and has questions. I promised her that I’d have dinner with her tomorrow evening.”
“Are my ears going to be burning?” he asks with a small twitch of his lips.
“Probably.” I shrug, and his lip twitch turns into a grin. “Do you want some water or something?” I ask, needing to do something with myself so I don’t jump him.
“I’ll take a beer.”
“Coming right up.” I go around the island to the fridge and grab him a beer then pour myself a glass of wine. When I make it back to the couch, he’s shutting down his computer. “How was work?”
“Work.” He shrugs, taking the beer I hold out to him. “On TV, my job seems exciting. In reality, it’s a lot of paperwork and sitting behind my desk or behind the wheel of a car.”
“Did you always want to be a police officer?”
“Yeah, since I can remember. What about you? Did you always want to be a social worker?”
“Yeah, in a way.” I take a sip of wine before continuing. “I didn’t know what a social worker was growing up, but I did always want to help kids who couldn’t speak up for themselves. When I went to college, one of my counselors told me the best way to do that was to work in social services, so that’s what I decided to major in.” I take another sip from my wine, trying not to let the way he’s looking at me affect me. “Why did you want to be a cop?”
“To protect the people I love.” Those simple words and that easy statement make my chest feel like a weight has settled on it. “I thought about playing ball after high school, even had a few offers for full rides. But in the end, I knew I wouldn’t be happy, so I joined the military and became an MP.”
“An MP?”
“Military police officer.”
I smile. “So you weren’t a sharpshooter?”
“No.” He smiles back. “I know the rumors. None of them are true.”
“Mmm.” I take a sip of wine. The rumors might not all be true, but I have no doubt there’s a lot he’s not saying.
When there’s a knock on the door, he gets up to answer it. I expect it to be the food he ordered, but when I hear him ask, “Can I help you?” I turn to find Tom standing in the doorway.