“Eight,” Drake confirms. “And I’m coming with you. You’re not getting out of this conversation, either, sweetheart.”
“I’m not getting out of it. I’m postponing it. There’s a huge difference.” I slip my shoes on and grab my purse.
“And I’m still coming with you. I’ll make coffee while you change. Problem solved.”
Maybe for you, I want to say. Not for me though. I don’t want to talk about whatever he wants to talk about. I want to be filled in on Vince’s death so I can go to my office and do my thing. That’s it.
I don’t even want this investigation anymore.
It doesn’t take me long to drive from Drake’s to mine, and I’m not at all surprised when he pulls in behind me before I’ve even unlocked my front door.
I gather the mail from the mat, throw it on the side table, and hit the switch on my alarm. There’s no point closing the door. He can do that. He’ll do what he wants anyway.
I close my bedroom door and lean back against it, closing my eyes. This is why I don’t want this investigation. I don’t want the two sides of my life to mix together. It’s too hard. I can’t keeping tugging the personal stuff into the professional stuff, because that’s where it goes wrong.
All of it.
I pull a black blouse and a red pencil skirt from my closet. I’m so muddled up inside about everything that I need to at least look like I have my shit together. Besides, if I’m dressed well, I’ll feel better.
I pull my favorite Louboutins from my shoe rack.
Give a woman the right pair of shoes and not only will she conquer the world, but she’ll run it.
And, today, I need to run my little world.
I change, brush my hair out and over one shoulder, and go into the bathroom. Foundation, blush, mascara, red lipstick. And, finally, my shoes.
I slip my feet into them before I join Drake downstairs. There are two mugs of coffee sitting on the table, and I grab the one closest to me.
His eyes are hot on me as he leans against the side of the table. “You wanna tell me what your disappearing act was about yesterday?”
“I was apparently in your way. By the way, did Tim give a cause of death yet?”
“Asphyxiation. Fibers matching the pillow were found on and around his mouth.”
“You’re welcome,” I snap.
He almost looks ashamed.
“Now, how about you tell me what your diva act was about? The manager?”
“Oh, the guy who tried to hit on you in the middle of a sex club? In a place where he insinuated several other men would like to take you to a private room to do things to your body that you know nothing about? In a place you were clearly incredibly uncomfortable to be in?”
Now, it’s my turn to feel a little ashamed.
“Yeah.” Drake puts his mug down, his eyes filled with a mild annoyance. “We’re both fools, Noelle.”
I take a deep breath and look down at my hands clasped around the mug. “I’m sorry,” I say softly. “I just…”
“You’re not used to anyone other than your brothers stepping up and protecting you.”
I hate it when he’s right. Really, really hate it.
He closes the slight distance between us and gently takes my hands from the mug. “Hey.” He touches his fingers to my chin and lifts it, making me look at him. “I get it. I already told you I don’t want someone who needs saving. But saving and protecting are two vastly different things, cupcake. I don’t care if you need protecting from a killer or some sleazeball hitting on you because he’s loaded and wears fancy suits. I’m gonna protect you, whether you like it or not. I’m not afraid to stake my claim where dicks like him are concerned. One-up me on solving murders every day of the week, but don’t be mad at me for doing what feels right. Nothing matters more to me than protecting you, bella.”
Of all the things he calls me, I’ll never let him know how much bella affects me. Because just about every time he says it, I stop breathing. It’s always at that moment when my heart is already pounding.
“I know.” I raise an eyebrow. “I’m not apologizing again though.”
“I’m surprised you said sorry once.”
I purse my lips at his wide grin. “It won’t happen again.”
“I didn’t think it would.” His eyes spark in amusement. “I’m sorry too, but I can’t help it if your badass gene pisses off my alpha complex.”
“My badass gene is laughing at you.”
“My alpha complex wants to smack your ass.”
I grab my purse, put it over my butt, and walk backward. “Nope. That’s not how we’re starting today.”
“You’re right.” He stalks toward me with a lusty glint in his eye. “We’re gonna start it like this instead.”
He slams me back against my front door and I drop my purse. He dives his hands into my hair and seals his lips over mine. Fireworks erupt across my skin as I curl my fingers around his neck.
He devours me, plain and simple.
“Now,” he breathes, smiling. “Now, we’re gonna go and get some work done.”
I flick my thumb across his bottom lip, wiping away the smudge of my lipstick. “Now, we are.”
He raises his eyebrows, bends for my purse, and pulls me away from the door. I set the alarm, and after we walk out, I take my keys from him and lock the door.
His phone rings, and he hands me my purse so he can answer it. “Detective Nash… What? ... With what? And the mayor? It’s too fucking early for that… She’s gonna flip… Yeah, all right.”
“Who’s gonna flip? Me?”
Is it bad that I always assume “she” is me when in that sentence?
“You’re gonna get very passionate. The mayor is at the station with his new campaign manager.”
“Excellent.”
“And Nonna is there. With her wedding scrapbook.”
I stop at my car, my fingers freezing over the handle. “With her what?”
No. No, she isn’t. It better be for Devin to look at.
“Her Noelle wedding scrapbook.” Drake looks like he doesn’t know whether to be confused or laugh his ass off.
I cover my eyes with my hand. “We need to get there before she sets us a date or I’ll have florists calling me within the hour.”
He gets into his car, his laughter winning out, and I get into mine. I quickly check my lips in the mirror and reverse, digging for my lipstick. I uncap it and touch it up as I drive. Drake flashes his lights at me, and I stick my middle finger up at him. It’s his fault anyway.
A good thing about a small town is the lack of traffic. Traffic means three cars at a red light. Unfortunately, every light we come to is red and there are almost always three cars in front of Drake’s. Which means our drive to the station is three times longer than normal and Nonna is likely recruiting bridesmaids.
I pull up next to his car in the parking lot, and he glances at me as we get out.
“I should give you a ticket for doing your makeup while driving.”
“I’m disputing on the grounds that you are the reason it needed doing.” I walk past him, throwing him a sassy grin.
It earns me a slap on the ass.
Eh, it was worth it.
“Noella!” Nonna cries. “You-a see-a this-a dress!”
“Is it white?” I ask, pausing by the reception desk.
Charlotte, the receptionist, nods frantically.
“Not interested, Nonna. Sorry.”
“You show-a Drake?”
“I really don’t think Drake has any interest in your wedding scrapbook for a wedding that isn’t happening.”
“I’d love to tell you she meant to bring mine, but she didn’t,” Dev adds, leaning against the desk. “She’s on a warpath with you now. She wants a ring on your finger.”
“Not happening.” I look at Drake. “No offense.”
He laughs. “I’m with you. Trust me.”
Nonna gasps, holding the book to her chest. “You-a have-a no idea what-a you-a saying!”
“Okay, Nonna. I love you, but I know exactly what I’m saying, and so does Drake. Can we come back to this if I ever actually get married? Because we have work to do.” I grab Drake’s arm and tug him toward the back of the station.