I need you to tell me why I want to throw everything off that table, toss you down on top of it, and kiss the hell out of you.
“Oh, I don’t know. I thought maybe you’d like to return the sentiment.” I shrug, acting like her nonchalance isn’t doing some serious shit to me right now.
I spend my days fighting women off. Sure, that’s a little bit of my ego talking, but it’s also the truth. I’m a good looking man. I take pride in my appearance, I go to the gym and eat healthy, I’ve got money to burn, and I know how to satisfy a woman. What the fuck am I doing, chasing one who looks at me like she wants to use me for target practice?
Which would not be fun for me. I’ve heard she’s a beast at the range.
“If you’re planning on reporting me to HR because of the coffee, then fine. I’m sorry I dumped hot coffee on you,” she deadpans, not in any way sorry at all.
It shouldn’t make me want to laugh, but it does.
“I wasn’t talking about an apology. I was talking about you telling everyone the truth as well, but thank you. I really felt that one deep in my soul,” I tell her, pressing my hand to my heart.
I watch the corner of her mouth twitch as she forces herself not to smile, and I keep going. This is the longest she’s acknowledged me in a month, and I just want to keep her talking.
“I’ve had people making fun of me since I walked in the door this morning, for hitting on ‘The Man Whore of Franklin County,’” she informs me with air quotes. “You’re just lucky I didn’t actually light your crotch on fire with a blow torch.”
“Well, you did hit on The Man Whore of Franklin County,” I remind her with a smirk. “And actually, as of last month, it’s The Man Whore of Franklin County and surrounding areas, plural. If we’re being technical.”
“You’re a pig.”
“And yet, you still hit on me first, sweetheart.” I smile.
With a huff of annoyance, Harley abandons the box of files and walks around the conference room table to stand in front of me in the doorway.
“Why is this so important to you? Go bother some other woman who isn’t afraid of getting an STD.”
I pay no attention to her barb and take a step closer to her. “Why have you been ignoring me for the last four weeks?”
“Um, because I didn’t want to get any douchebag on me,” she quickly fires back.
“You’re hilarious,” I tell her, unable to hold back my smile of amusement.
“That shit just doesn’t wash out,” she continues.
“Okay, I get it.”
“Stains like a motherfucker.”
“Are you done?”
Harley thinks about it for a minute and then shrugs. “I think so, yes.”
And this is why I’ve been acting like a pussy for a month. I’ve never been attracted to a woman who just calls me out like this, and it’s messing with my head. And it annoys the hell out of me that I hadn’t just imagined things. We did share something that night at McCallahan’s. Before we knew we worked together, before she knew I go through women like most people go through toilet paper, before she got the reputation here for being an ice princess with a problem with authority. She was just a beautiful woman who made me laugh, told me a few secrets of her own, and made me feel like I could talk to her about anything. We shared something, and she wants to pretend like it didn’t happen.
This is why I never spend more than one night with a woman. They’re too much fucking work.
“Well, I for one think it’s adorable you can’t admit you hit on me first. It just proves you still want me.”
Harley scoffs and rolls her eyes.
“I can understand the shock when you showed up for your first day here and realized we work together, but it’s been a month. The public needs to know about your animal magnetism to me.”
“I think the public really needs to know about the severe brain damage you’re currently suffering from,” she retorts, crossing her arms in annoyance in front of her and jutting her chin up in an adorably defiant way.
“Excuse me, Detective Blake?” We’re momentarily interrupted when Micah, our evidence custodian, steps up next to us in the doorway, holding up a plastic evidence bag in his hand. “I’ve got that condom you asked for.”
The laugh is out of my mouth before I can stop it as Harley snatches the bag with a small foil wrapper in it out of Micah’s hand. I give her a knowing smile, and she growls, making Micah scurry away without another word like his ass is on fire.
“It’s for a case, dipshit,” Harley mutters, turning away from me to toss the evidence bag onto the table.
“Oh of course.” I nod seriously. “Because if you have Micah on speed dial to bring you prophylactics whenever you need them, I’m going to be really pissed I didn’t think of it first.” I chuckle at my own joke, letting out a humming sigh when Harley is still looking at me like she wants to punch me in the face.
“One of these days, Trevino….” She trails off with a shake of her head.
“One of these days… you’ll admit you want me?” I ask hopefully.
“One of these days, something is going to finally crack that douchebag mask you feel intent on wearing at all times, and then everyone will know what a little bitch you are.”
Considering I opened up to her in those few hours at McCallahan’s more than I have to anyone else in my entire life, that shit burns worse than the boiling hot coffee on my dick.
And it turns me on. This is conflicting.
Harley goes back around to the other side of the conference room table and gets back to work digging through the files. I move out of the room and leave her alone.
She’ll come to her senses soon enough. They always do. And besides, this is technically my last day being co-workers with her. I took a transfer to another department in the next county over as the lead detective on a high-profile case. We’ll still work together, since our departments help each other out all the time, but at least then Phina can get off my jock about sleeping with my co-workers.
I smile and chuckle to myself as I head back to my office, so I can get busy on DJ and Phina’s case, transfer the rest of my case load to the detective who will be taking my place here, and then finish packing up my desk.
“How’s the burned dick? Is it branded with coffee beans now? Heard Detective Blake really scorched the shit out of it.” David, one of my detective friends, laughs as I pass by his desk.
“Ahhh, it was just a flesh wound. He’ll be ready to go tonight at McCallahan’s for my going away party, so make sure you’ve got your wingman muscles flexed,” I joke with him, honestly in no fucking mood for a going away party now after getting shot down and verbally kicked in the face. “I was recently told I’m going to turn into a little bitch one of these days. Maybe you’ll get lucky and it will happen tonight.”
David throws his head back and laughs. “The day Dax Trevino turns into a little bitch is the day we’ll all need to start preparing for the end of the world.”
“Seriously.” I laugh with him, moving on down the hall.
I’ve got friends to save from imminent death, a bright future as a badass detective, and several counties of uncomplicated women with way less attitude to share my sparkling personality and good looks with. I don’t need Harley Blake for anything.