“Holy shit.”
Throwing a paper clip at him, she said, “Quit saying that.”
“How? Jones, yeah, I can see if enough liquor’s involved, but Brown—”
“Because I convinced them that Arabelle was there and requested it.”
Sullivan’s eyes widened and then narrowed with a frown. “You used my daughter to get blackmail on our fellow officers?”
Nervous, she nibbled her bottom lip. “Yeah.”
“Way to go, partner!” His frown slid into a grin as he held up his hand for a hi-five.
~ ~ ~
The next day, Jo leaned back trying to stretch the crick out of her neck. With Thanksgiving coming fast, they needed to finish everything they could on their other cases. Otherwise, Jo’s mother would be pissed and Arabelle would put on the waterworks if her dad missed watching the parade with her.
“Here’s the rest of the witness statements for you to type up.” Sullivan dropped a file on her desk while juggling two cups of coffee in his left hand. “The husband’s alibi checks out, but her manager at the nail salon didn’t. I called Abe to track that down since he’s already on that side of town.”
They both hated paperwork and took turns handling the tedious task. Unfortunately, today was her day for the mind-numbing job. Tossing her empty coffee cup in the trash, she shuffled the file he’d tossed to the bottom of her stack. “Okay, have we gotten the ballistics report on the drive-by? Oh, and I saw that the uniforms found that knife in the gutter on that stabbing on Southside.”
“I’ll make a call to forensics after lunch. You ever gonna tell me how the date went?” Sullivan asked.
She couldn’t keep the smile from her face.
“That good?” Sullivan plunked a filled cup on her desk. “I knew you’d like that craft show.”
Shooting a frown at him, she lifted the cup to her lips. Perfect. Sweet enough to hide the sludge that passed for coffee in this precinct and cool enough not to burn her tongue. His chair released an ominous death rattle as he settled into it and Jo hoped this would be the time the eyesore, of faded green mixed with gray, gave up the ghost. The sight of Sullivan falling on his ass right now would be great payback for the knowing smirk on his face. Those sundresses had definitely not been enough of a punishment.
“Did he tell you about his brother?” A frown replaced the smirk.
“Some.” She took another sip from the cup to give herself a second to think, refusing to betray Rhys’s trust. “It got to be maudlin, so we changed the subject and focused on what we have in common.”
“Good idea. All that other stuff—it’s just life. As long as you like each other, the rest will work itself out.”
“My mom wants them to come to Thanksgiving dinner—”
“You should take them.”
“Maybe. My parents are hosting this year. I’m nervous—”
“Or not. That’s sixty people, Jo.” Sullivan shook his head.
Scratching her forehead, she set the cup down with a plunk. “Yeah, I know. I’ve not met Rian yet.”
“I’d talk to Rhys and see what he thinks.”
She’d thought about talking to him but didn’t want him to feel pressured to go. “I mean, do you think it’s too soon?”
A slight shrug. “You still have a week. Maybe try to have another date—”
“With our caseload? We’re at a standstill on the Gravedigger case, but that doesn’t mean we don’t have others.”
“Okay, lunch, then.” He leaned toward her, his elbows braced on the desk. “If you want this to work, you gotta figure out a way.”
“Yeah, okay. A lunch date, or two, and if you and I get these other cases wrapped up maybe dinner and a movie.” Jo mirrored Sullivan and leaned across her own desk, trying to not be overheard as Terry came into the bullpen. “I like this one a lot, Sullivan.”
“Then it’s not too soon. I’d talk to him and tell him about your family. Because it’s like walking into chaos with the fun of a circus.”
~ ~ ~
He whistled the pop-tune that had been on the radio coming into work as he entered his office to drop off his bag.
“Someone’s happy today,” Jim said from the other desk. “I take it the date went well.”
The large man was several inches taller than Rhys and round enough to compete with Santa. His beard held a lot more gray than black nowadays, but on Jim it looked distinguished and not like a wiry bush. Gold-framed glasses perched on his nose and laugh lines decorated the corners of his eyes and mouth.
Dependable and loyal. When he became upset because he couldn’t continue with his medical degree, Jim stepped in and gave him an ear to vent in and sound advice. And when he needed to feel useful, this man gave him a job.
He didn’t enjoy the job like Jim did. Jim wanted to help the victims speak. To give them a voice so they found justice in the afterlife. He didn’t feel that same need, for him it was a job. One he treated with respect and made sure every victim was handled with dignity, but he didn’t find the same satisfaction that his boss did.
“I think it did. We laughed a lot—”
“With Jo?” Jim’s eyes widened and his mouth hung open. “Jo laughed?”
Sipping his coffee, he hid his smile. He’d loved her laugh. It was carefree and open. Not her normal closed expression, and those icy blue eyes sparkled. “Yes, we had a good time.”
“If Jo Rayburn showed any emotion besides cold calculation or snarling anger, then I’d say the date was a hit.”
He shrugged. “I’ve never seen either of those emotions. Though she can be prickly—”
“Prickly?” Jim snorted. “Yeah, okay we’ll go with your description. Anyway, I finished the two autopsies yesterday, which has finally caught us up. If you can type up the notes, see if I missed anything, then we can start making calls to the families.” Jim peered at him over the gold-rimmed glasses as he held a handful of forms out for Rhys. “Unless you want to start the next autopsy.”
Paperwork or hours spent documenting a victim’s trauma. “I’ll do the paperwork. Do you want me to make the calls?”
“No.” Jim sighed, and his blunt fingers plucked the glasses from his nose, “but you’ll be on the schedule for this afternoon’s autopsies. We’re finally caught up and I want us to stay that way for as long as we can.”
“Okay,” He replied just as his office line rang.
With that, Jim hefted his bulk from the overworked chair. His black pants strained around his waist and hung down his legs in rumpled wrinkles. The white button-down shirt looked as if the buttons would pop off any second. He picked up two files, snapped them on his clipboard and headed out with a brief wave. Rhys made a note to tell Jim’s wife he needed some new shirts, because the diet wasn’t working.
His phone rang again, and he snagged it from the cradle. “Rhys Harrison, Coroner’s Office.”
“Hi, Rhys.”
The smile returned, and happiness sparked inside him. “Well, hello, detective.”
“Umm . . . hi. I mean . . . dammit.”
He stifled his chuckle. He’d noticed Friday, when Jo became flustered she’d lose her train of thought and most times babble. The first time he put it together was when she’d tripped on the makeshift dance floor. Not wanting her to fall, he’d grabbed her wrist and yanked her to him.
Just the memory of that blush against her snowy skin and her breathlessness made him hard. He had adjusted himself to a more comfortable position and cursed finding himself in the midst of a crowd. Otherwise, he’d have kissed her, stolen more of the breath from her. But she’d begun to chatter and clutch his shirt. Panic had filled her once sparkling gaze. The same nervous expression that had been in her eyes when he’d picked her up.
Refusing to allow Jo to th
ink she’d embarrassed him, he’d stumbled as well. The tight grasp on his shirt had kept him upright, though the tripping, at least for him, had been orchestrated to put her at ease. It’d worked, her brilliant smile returned and she’d sighed in relief.
But that flustered chatter and giggle . . . he’d loved that. It’d been endearing and made him curious to know what she’d do when he took her to bed. Would she be a talker? Or be too flustered to get complete words out?
And Christ did he want to know.
“Wait, Jo, I missed that. Did you say you wanted to meet for lunch?”
“Yeah, is that okay?”
His detective was fierce when searching for the truth or on the trail of a piece of information. But seemed hesitant in the area of dating. The contrast fascinated him, he wanted to know more about her. She was complex. The kind of woman he’d always been drawn to.
“Sure.” He clicked open the office calendar and saw Jim would be meeting his wife at eleven thirty for lunch. “How about one?”
“Sounds good. I just need to talk to you about something.” Her voice was whisper soft.
“If it’s about not dating anymore, then I’m going to be busy,” he teased, even as worry crept into him.
“No, well I mean you might run for the hills after we talk, but I enjoyed Friday too much to not want a repeat.”
The smile pulled across his face again and he propped a hip on his desk. “Then it sounds like we’re on the same page. Harbert Plaza? We can both get what we want at the food court and talk then.”
“Okay, I’ll see ya’ at one.”
Jo hung up as abruptly as she’d called. But as long as she wasn’t ending the slight relationship they’d begun, he figured anything else that cropped up could be easily handled.
Chapter 10
The food court slowly emptied as the noonday lunchgoers left, heading back to work. He typed in his pin then placed his debit card back in his wallet, before grabbing the containers of curry tofu, cheese wontons, and a large cola. He turned and scanned the various tables arrayed in the center of the food court, setting his containers of food onto a plastic tray before claiming an empty table.
Still no Jo.
He chose a table close enough to the escalator to flag her down, but with enough distance to keep whatever she wanted to talk about private. He caught sight of her with a tray in her hand on the far side of the food court.
She stopped, facing away from him. What did she have that captivated him? She was nothing like Sharon. His ex-fiancée had been warm, friendly, but when he’d needed her most she’d turned cold. Jo, however, was standoffish, prickly and yes . . . sometimes cold. Like now, her face set in a frown that did not welcome anyone getting into her space.
Her lips held a hint of a smile when she relaxed, and if she was having fun, she glowed. She slowly spun toward him. He stood and waved.
A brilliant smile replaced the frown, and she went from a classical beauty to breathtaking. Her legs were encased in a pair of black slacks, and a light gray sweater hid her form beginning at her neck and ending mid-thigh.
“Hey.” She set her tray down at the empty spot across from him. “Are those cheesy wontons?”
“Yes, want some?” He eyed her country fried steak. His mouth watered at the southern meal. He almost regretted choosing Asian now, but the cheesy wontons were another favorite of his.
“How about we share? Two wontons, half of your curry tofu and I’ll split my country fried steak, mashed potatoes, and collard greens with you.”
Heck yeah! He was already in motion forking over a portion of the wontons toward her Styrofoam container. Jo shifted the food between both containers until they both held an equal amount of each cuisine. Her easy-going reaction made him freeze. His parents had done this. Memories of shared meals at a variety of restaurants with his parents superimposed themselves.
His dad and mom debating and settling on two different meals, then splitting them. Laughter as they would filch food off the other’s plate if they felt the division was uneven.
His heart clutched. It’d always been what he wanted. Looking up, he fell into Jo’s eyes, such a pale blue as to be other worldly. So many emotions swirled in the depths, he couldn’t follow them all.
His ex-fiancée, Sharon, had never wanted to share her food. If they went out to eat, she would get annoyed if he wanted to try anything from her plate.
Jo had actually torn off the top of her Styrofoam container and fixed him a small helping of each side and main dish. Even half her biscuit was included. It was done with a quiet confidence, no hesitation, no grumbling or snarky comments. Definitely, no passive aggressive vibes shot his way.
Her elegant fingers waved in front of his face.
Jumping guiltily, he frowned. “What?”
“You were off in lala land. I asked if this was too much.” She waggled a finger between the two makeshift plates.
“N—” He cleared his throat. “No, it’s perfect.”
She moved the container onto his tray. “Well, I wouldn’t go that far.” Spearing one of the wontons, she bit a large chunk. “But this is,” she said around a mouthful.
He laughed and began to eat as well. The lunch date was normal. No drama. No checking that she hadn’t dropped food on her shirt. No looking around to see if someone she knew was nearby. Instead, she watched him, focused on him, and talked to him about the two new cases she’d been assigned.
Jo listened when he told her about Rian trying to talk him into a puppy by bringing in the neighbor’s dog for a day. With her head thrown back, belting out a laugh, he remembered something his dad had said when he’d first begun dating. The conversation played back in his mind as if it’d happened yesterday.
They’d been in the garage, his father fiddling with his various woodcarving tools. Rian was built along the lines of their father. Big and bulky, like a football player. As his dad conducted the uncomfortable ‘sex’ talk, he’d shared one piece of wisdom that slammed into Rhys now.
“You can only have sex so many times before your body just gives out and eventually the talking is going to start. Now, if the person you’re with gets on your last nerve and you want to kick them outta the house after sex, then they aren’t your forever person.”
He didn’t know if Jo was his ‘forever woman’. They had just begun seeing each other. The attraction he felt for her simmered on a low heat when they weren’t together and flared wildly whenever he caught a glimpse of her. His dick had gone hard the second he spotted Jo in the food court.
Her clothes concealed, but for him they were like wrapping paper at Christmas. He imagined her sprawled across his king-sized bed. All that pale skin bared for him to see and taste. He craved to know if her hair would cascade down her back or hit her shoulders when unleashed from its habitual twist.
Beyond that, he enjoyed her. Her quick wit, snarky personality, and prickly exterior that hid a sweet, warm center. This was a woman who wouldn’t run when life went to hell. And life always took an unexpected turn for the worst at some point.
“Then we brought the elephants and the pet monkey in as witnesses.”
Wait. What? Did she say monkey? He shook his head clearly mis-hearing Jo’s statement. “What?”
His fork froze on the way to his mouth as he waited to see what she’d actually said.
“You weren’t listening.” Jo shoved a bite of mashed potatoes between her pink lips.
“So, you went with elephants and monkeys?”
She shrugged.
“You going to tell me what’s going on?” he asked.
The longer the meal had progressed, the edgier she became. At least that’s the impression he had. The feeling was reinforced when she dragged the tines of her plastic fork through what was left of her mashed potatoes and gravy as sh
e fell silent.
“Jo?” His meal felt like lead in his stomach now.
A deep breath and then, “Momwantsyou tocometothanksgiving,” she said, all the words ran together, and Rhys had a hard time understanding.
“Oh, God, you don’t want to go.” Her eyes widened in panic and the light in them dimmed.
“No, wait,” he interrupted, his hand held up to stop her. “I didn’t understand what you said. Can you repeat it?”
“Shit.” Jo took a sip of her drink. Her full lips wrapped around the straw, he became distracted watching her. “You watching my lips, doc?”
“Not a doctor,” he growled, hurt that she’d tease him about something that close to his heart.
The one dream he’d given up for Rian. Did he regret it? Yes, it’d been his goal since he was eight and had volunteered at the hospital with his mother. He’d been fascinated with how much the doctors helped the kids get better. But after his parents’ deaths, his dream shattered. Would he make the same choice again? Yes, Rian needed stability, and med school and a residency did not come with a stable schedule.
Waving a hand between them as if wiping the comment away, Jo took another breath. “Sorry, I’m nervous. Anyway, Mom wants you to come to Thanksgiving dinner, but my family’s a circus.”
He worked to forget the ‘doc’ comment. Before focusing on the meat of Jo’s statement, he took a sip of watered-down soda. “You want me to meet your family? Your mom already knows about us?”
Panic edged into him. They’d only been on one date and her mother knew?
She straightened up and leaned her elbows on the table. “Uh . . . yeah. Dad is a retired cop out of the Moody district. I have cousins and two older brothers who are cops. Uncles in the Sheriff’s departments and Marshall services. Anyway, they all heard we had a date because everyone in my damned department is a bunch of gossiping busybodies. My dad tells Mom pretty much everything—”
Gravedigger (The Rayburn Mysteries Book 1) Page 9