“Coming.” I hear his strong voice through the barrier between us. When he opens it, I literally lose my breath.
“Counselor.” He grins as he sees me standing there.
“Hey,” I answer. “I made a huge dinner, and was wondering if you wanted to split it with me.”
He rubs his stomach, inadvertently lifting his shirt up so I can see his abdomen muscles. It’s an unconscious move he makes, but I still let my gaze drift down and enjoy the fruits of his exercise labor.
“Whatever that is smells amazing, c’mon in.”
Ducking under his arm, I enter, feeling shy because this is one of the first times we’ve seen each other since the Christmas party. It’s not that I’ve avoided him, I’ve just waited for him to make a move.
He hasn’t.
Which is why I’m here tonight. To try and figure out if I can convince myself to be bold again.
Going over to the island, I put everything down, starting to unpack it.
“What did you bring?”
He has a seat in one of the chairs, looking at me expectantly.
“Top round was on sale at the grocery store and I couldn’t pass it up, it’s way too much for just me though.”
I’m rambling and I know it, but I can’t seem to stop. The last time we were alone together he rubbed a knife against my nipple for God sake’s.
“I don’t wanna eat all your food.” He seems maybe almost as awkward as I am after what happened between the two of us.
“This is only half of it, believe it or not.”
His eyes bulge as he sees the Dutch oven I have almost full to the brim. “No shit?”
The uttered words cause me to laugh. “No shit. I hope you like slightly spicy though. I put pepperoncini’s in it.”
“Never had it before, but I’m up for anything.”
I grin, happy to share with him. Excited to be in the same space together. Hoping like hell we’ll be able to move forward from what went on in my apartment. Putting the bag I have shouldered on the island, I pull out rice and corn bread too, along with a big piece of chocolate cake. “Kinda went all out.”
“I can see that.” His eyes are huge, but his stomach growls loudly. “Have to admit, I’m not sorry you did.”
“Let me get us some plates.”
I’ve been here enough times that I know where things are. I’m comfortable in a way I haven’t ever been with anyone else, but I don’t know how to approach the subject of us being together. In a perfect world, he would take control of this, just like I asked him to that night, but Sullivan is a gentleman. Unless he’s told not to be.
Can I do that?
Will I ever be as bold as I was that night?
I’m not sure I can be, but I want more than anything to be the woman he comes home to. The one he lets that side of himself out with, and the lover he calls in the middle of the night when he needs relief. So I know I have to somehow figure out what I want to do, which is why I lunge forward. “The Christmas party was fun, huh?”
Putting a plate piled high with food in front of him is a way for me to hide my embarrassment.
“Yeah, it was. Glad I could get you safely into your apartment.” He takes a bite. “You were pretty out of it.”
Not as out of it as he thought. With my heart is sinking, I take my plate and have a seat next to him. “Yeah I was.”
“Figured you wouldn’t remember anything the next day.”
The way he says it, I wonder if that’s what he wanted. To not move forward with what we started. “Anything you wanna tell me?” Here’s the opening for us to discuss it all.
“Nah.” He swallows, wiping his mouth. “Got you into bed with no problem. Just glad I could help.”
And that’s when I realize, everything I’ve been building up between Sully and I was completely in my head. “Yeah.” I lick my lips, looking away from him, trying to hold it together. “Glad you could help too.”
“How was Houston?” he asks later when we sit on the couch, eating our cake, discussing the holidays.
“It was good.” I let a smile work its way to my face. “I saw my parents and a couple of friends. I haven’t seen them since I moved here.”
“That was your first time back, right?”
“Yeah, a lot of memories.” I set my cake down, pulling my knee up to my chest.
“Did something happen to make you come here? I don’t think we’ve ever really talked about it.”
I’ve not told anyone here about my past, but maybe it’s time. “I worked for a law firm, and we were prosecuting a big drug case. One of the lead witnesses was a twelve-year-old girl who was testifying against her father. We had her in a protected location, but it wasn’t enough.”
“Oh, Counselor.” He reaches over, grabbing my hand. His thumb strokes my palm. “Sometimes best laid plans turn into shit shows.”
Don’t I know it?
“Yeah, so after that happened, I couldn’t stay there anymore. I didn’t want to do public prosecution work anymore. That’s really what we were doing, and it just didn’t interest me. Not after we lost her. Life is fleeting as fuck.”
“Yeah,” he whispers, his eyes getting a far off look. “Yeah it is.”
Maybe, just maybe the two of us have a lot more in common than we think.
Chapter 2
Sullivan
“Thank you for volunteering to work Valentine’s Night,” Nick says as we start the shift-change. “We would’ve made it work, the way we always have, but it’s nicer when I can be home with the wife and kiddos, ya know?”
I don’t, but I pretend like I do. “I’m sure they all appreciate it.”
Nick grins. “And I appreciate when they go to bed, just leaving me and my blushing bride to do whatever we want.”
Rolling my eyes, I grab a cup of the worst coffee known to man.
Welcome to Laurel Springs Police Department.
“Dude, don’t remind me you’re married, and have a woman to sleep next to you, and all that good stuff.”
“What’s up with you and Shelby?”
His southern accent makes her name almost two words. Shell Bee.
“Didn’t you take her home from the Christmas Party?”
Steeling myself, I sip some of the sludge, grimacing as I force it down. “Just because I took her home doesn’t mean something happened.”
He studies me a lot fucking closer than I want him to. “Yeah it did.” He smirks back at me. “But I’m also getting the feeling that not a damn thing’s happened since.”
Glancing at my watch, I see the time. “Look, Romeo, it’s clock out o’clock. Unless you wanna pull a double and take my spot. I’m sure I can go find something to do for the night.”
“Fuck. That.”
He rushes to clock out, before saluting me with a wave of his hand, running out the back door of the police station. I’ve been cornered by no more than three of my fellow officers the last week, asking me what’s going on with the attorney. Interrogation avoided.