“Hyacinth!”
I ignore him.
“Come on, hold up a second!”
I don’t want to. I want to keep running, but I know he’ll be faster than I am. Cops have to go through physical training, don’t they? And, besides, he’s in better shape than pretty much any man I’ve ever met, so I have no doubt my getaway attempt would be fruitless.
Breathing hard, I slow to a stop. My chest sort of aches and I’m winded and exhausted. My ribs are throbbing, and I wince as I hold a hand to them.
But I don’t turn around—I just wait for him to approach, which he does really slowly, like he’s afraid I’ll get spooked and run. It’s certainly tempting, but I manage to stand my ground, even after he’s next to me and I can feel his proximity like a physical force of nature.
“Hi.”
I close my eyes and nod tersely—my version of “hi” under the current circumstances.
“I called you,” he says.
“I know.”
“You didn’t answer.”
“I didn’t have anything to say.”
In my periphery, I see him watching me. “Do you have anything to say now?”
Yes.
I want to say that I fucking hate you for putting me through what you’ve put me through.
And I want to say that I fucking love you, and that makes me hate you, too.
“No. I don’t have anything to say now.”
“Will you just look at me, Cyn? Please?”
I close my eyes. “I can’t.”
“Why?”
I turn to glare at him. “Because it hurts, Smith. Because it fucking hurts.”
He rocks back on his heels and a smile peeks out beneath his solemn expression.
“Well, you’re looking at me now.”
I roll my eyes. “Fine, Officer, you win. Way to effectively dupe your witness.”
Smith flinches at that, then takes a step back from me.
“Look, I just want to talk to you.”
I shake my head. “I don’t want to hear it.”
“Cyn . . .”
“No,” I snap. I begin to back away. “It doesn’t matter.”
“You know what?”
Smith sort of growls, then moves right into my personal space.
“I don’t really care what you want to hear. I’ve called you a million goddamn times, and now I’ve got you standing in front of me, so you’re going to listen to what I have to say.”
I blink at him, steeling my gaze.
“Fine. You’ve got two minutes.”
He sniffs hard, then glances down the hallway.
“When I was at the academy, my brother was promoted to lead investigator for the BPD drug task force. They assigned him to the SRO position to help him weed out the drug deals in the high schools. When they realized that they couldn’t get very far with someone wearing a badge, they recruited me to join the undercover operation.
“The thing is,” he continues, scrubbing a hand over his face, “you were an unexpected element—I didn’t anticipate meeting you at Cave, but I really didn’t expect to see you here. When I did, I almost called off the whole investigation, but Eric convinced me to stick with it.”
I raise a brow. “So, he did know about us after all.”
Smith shrugs. “Sort of. He knew we’d met at the bar. He knew I cared about you.”
Cared. Past tense.
I swallow hard on the lump in my throat.
“So, you do have a high school diploma?”
His mouth lifts on one side. “Yeah. I was valedictorian of my class.”
I snort. “Of course you were.”
“What else don’t I know, then—are you really thirty years old? Do you have a wife or kids or a mortgage or some other secret that I’m completely in the dark about?”
He shifts to rest an arm on a nearby locker.
“No, I’m not thirty. I’m twenty-five. I graduated from the police academy last fall. No wife. No kids. I live with my brother in Catonsville, although I’m hoping that’ll change soon since he’s a total slob and snores like a boar.”
He smiles at me then and I look away.
“What about your dad?”
He sighs at that. “My dad is in jail, although it’s in Iowa, not here. I haven’t spoken to him in several years. Eric has basically been like my dad in most ways anyway. And my mom still struggles with drinking, but she’s working on it. It’s all I can really ask of her, I think.”
I don’t know what to say to that, so I just nod.
“Come on, Cyn,” he whispers. Slowly, he shuffles closer toward me until the only thing between us is breath. “I had to lie to you. I didn’t want to, but it was my job. And, in my own way, I was trying to keep you safe.”
I cross my arms, wishing they were stronger—strong enough to protect my heart. He sighs then and turns to lean his back against the locker.
“I can’t make you forgive me. And, you know what? Maybe you shouldn’t. But I’m going to ask you to, anyway.”
I meet his gaze then. “Why?”
He blinks a few times and then, before I can even breathe, he’s hovering over me. He reaches out and lets his thumb run along my jaw and drag down to my pulse point, which, as always, is throbbing at his nearness.
“Because I’ve never met anyone like you. You stand up for yourself and you fight for what you want. You seem shy, but you’re really fucking brave, and I see that in you.”
I can feel my lip tremble. When he dips even closer, I can feel his breath on my skin.
“I want you, Hyacinth. Not just because you’re sexy. Not just because you were unavailable to me.”
He lets his lips fall to my cheek, sweeping down and resting at the corner of my mouth.
“I want you because you’re sweet enough to remind me that there’s still good in this world. I’m surrounded by crime and drugs and terrible shit every day. I don’t get a lot of time off and I never take leave. But you—you feel like a vacation to me every time I touch you. And I don’t want to lose that.”
Well, hell. When he puts it that way . . .
I shift my face until our lips align and I kiss him.
It’s a closed-mouth, slow kiss that I initiate at first. Then, feeling a little bolder, I let my tongue flicker out along the seam of his lips. He makes a rumbling sound deep in his chest, then circles my waist with both arms and hauls me against him.
“I’ve missed you so fucking much.”
He devours my mouth then, letting his tongue take over and his lips play second fiddle. For the moment, I’m content to enjoy the ride, to enjoy being led instead of leading him. The truth is that I don’t want to have to be Smith’s teacher now. I think it’s about time for him to teach me a thing or two.
He buries his face in my neck, breathing hard and I tug a little on his hair until he looks up at me.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to do this here,” I say quietly.
He quirks a brow. “You think?”
“Yeah.” I smile. “Probably not appropriate.”
“Hmm.” He places a finger against his lips as though he’s pondering a thought. “Then how about this: I’m going to go finish up my debriefing, and then I’ll come pick you up at your house.”
“Pick me up for what?”
He grins. “For our first date.”
“First date, huh?”
“Yep.” He nods. “A totally legit, real-as-shit date. You should wear a dress. It’ll be that kind of night.”
I let my eyes run over his body and the crisp blue shirt and black pants he’s rocking beneath his badge.
“Are you going to wear your uniform?”
His smile turns wickedly knowing, and he leans in a little closer. “Do you want me to wear my uniform?”
I shrug, trying and failing to look nonchalant. “Maybe.”
“We’ll it is my duty to protect and serve you.” He kisses me then, long and slow, before pulling away. “So, I’ll see you at your house—give me an hour or so.”
I nod. “I’ll be there.”