Laughing, he pulled her in for a quick kiss and held the door for her. “After you.” It was a little over ten minutes from her front door to his, a happy little detail he noticed over their conversations of pets and breakfast. They both seemed to be a little giddy, a little gun-shy, considering the last time they’d awakened together.
Guinness’s normal exuberance was enhanced by his desperate need to visit the foliage, and Ellie walked through the living room and let him outside first thing. Then she stepped out herself, examining his herb garden and his pride and joy, a rosebush he’d rescued off the clearance rack at the home improvement store. He’d named it Rita, but Ellie didn’t need to know that.
When the lanky dog bounded back in the door, she followed him, kicking off her shoes in deference to his light carpeting. “Amazing garden.”
He grinned, pleased that she’d noticed. “Thanks, it keeps me off the streets.”
She pursed her lips in a wry grin. “Considering it’s your job that puts you there…”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” He waved off her sarcasm. “I’m gonna take a shower and then make us some omelets. Sound good?”
Ellie took a seat at his dining room table, and Guinness wasted no time positioning himself for some serious ear rubs. “Sure, if it’s not a lot of trouble.”
He barked a laugh and swooped down for a quick kiss on his way to the stairwell. “Get in the fridge and find what you want to have on your omelet. Back in five.”
* * *
Guinness was in no hurry for her to stop petting him, and followed her into the kitchen when she went to check the fridge. For a guy, Sean kept his fridge surprisingly well-stocked. Yes, there were the requisite take out containers and a couple IPA sixers, but there were eggs, vegetables, cheese that didn’t look like it’d been rescued from some university science lab.
By the time he came downstairs, still towel-drying his hair, she’d taken out the ingredients and located a professional looking skillet. “Hey! I was planning on cooking for you!”
“You still can, I was just trying to be helpful since five minutes means something different here than it does at my place.” She shrugged with an unrepentant grin, enjoying the image of his shirtless chest still damp from the shower, with her tiny little finger marks on his pecs. And the things he did to a pair of jeans. Ellie shook her head to collect her thoughts. Now that she’d had him, it seemed like that was all she ever wanted.
“Sorry. I always lose track of time in the shower.” Sean tossed the towel over his shoulder and got out a cutting board. The quick work he made of the veggies was impressive, and his speed and skill with a knife were equally so. He winked at her when he caught her watching him.
She giggled, though her eyes never left his hands. “Nice. I take it the knife and sword thing is more than a hobby?”
“Eh, my dad collected them when I was little. It was one thing that was stable from base to base. All over Germany, Arizona, Guam, the collection grew and me with it. It reminds me of him, of us before Mom...” He shook his head, dismissing whatever thought was on his mind. “The skill came later.” He didn’t look at her as he spoke, his hands moving efficiently to deposit the veggies and cheese in the eggs sizzling on the stove. It was the lack of eye contact, his way of removing himself from the conversation. He was still talking, but it didn’t touch him. He almost never talked about how or where he grew up, and though curious, she knew better than to ask him why.
“Where do you keep your plates?” At the quick grin he flashed her while busy at the stove, she knew the change in subject had been most welcome. The conversation between the stove and the table was much less fraught, and they both seemed to relax into an easy rhythm. She set the table, he served the food, she got the glasses, he poured the OJ, it worked out well.
Ellie couldn’t find words effusive enough to praise the omelet, so she settled for an enthusiastic hum. The man, in addition to being sex on a stick, could cook. Beautifully fluffy omelets and perfect bacon. What the hell was going on in her life that every man she knew made perfect bacon?
Sean jerked forward with a cough, apparently trying to contain a laugh. It took a moment for him to settle down enough to swallow his food, but he did, and followed it with half a glass of juice. “I’m glad you enjoy the bacon.”
Shit. “That was out loud, wasn’t it?” She felt the fingers of heat creeping up her face, and knew in a moment her whole head would be tomato colored. He pressed is lips together to keep from laughing and just nodded. “Fantastic,” she replied on a sulk.
He picked up her hand and kissed the tips of her fingers before digging back into his plate. Small gestures, looks, little by little, he was breaking down the wall she’d built to keep herself in the now, to know this was just temporary. To not let herself get torn to shreds like she’d been last time.
“So I’m probably having dinner this week with Pia,” he started, never once looking up from his plate.
Now it was her turn to choke on her food. She wiped her mouth with her napkin and sat very straight, trying to convince herself she’d somehow misheard him and he hadn’t gone completely insane. “I’m sorry?”
He set his silverware on the side of the plate, and eyed hers like he might try to take it before continuing the conversation. “We were supposed to meet last week, but I got hung up at work.”
“Sounds like you dodged a bullet, there,” she remarked lightly as she picked up her fork to continue eating. Regardless of the violence she felt bubbling up inside her, she was determined to keep that to herself.
He shrugged and wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Kinda. Anyway, we rescheduled for this week.”
As much as she tried to ignore it, her appetite had passed away suddenly at the initial mention of Pia’s name. Rather than fight it, she gently placed her napkin over her plate and folded her hands to keep them from acting out. “And you’re telling me this because…?”
Sean pushed back from the table, and grabbed his plate. “I don’t know, I just,” he looked at hers with a raised eyebrow and she nodded, “I was hoping…” he trailed off as he went into the kitchen.
She followed him in and leaned a shoulder against the doorjamb. “You were hoping…?”
He deposited the remains of their breakfast in Guinness’s bowl and the plates in the sink. He braced his hands on the counter and dropped his head forward. “I was hoping you’d go with me.”
She’d been right with her first assessment. He’d gone insane, irretrievably so. “Okay, and why were you hoping I’d go?”
He sighed and turned around to lean against the sink, arms crossed over his bare chest. It was distracting. “She didn’t get the point when I told her I’d moved on and I was thinking—”
“That I’d be your visual aid?” She really wasn’t trying to mock him, but damn, she could think of at least eleven body parts she’d like amputated before she sat down to a meal with that woman.
He dropped his head forward, his hair falling into his face and obscuring his expression, but when he looked up again, he had a rueful smile. “When you put it that way…”
“Yeah, not a good idea.” That was the gentlest way to respond, the string of expletives that leapt to her tongue were more aggressive than she wanted to be right then. Instead, she crossed the room and brushed his bangs out of his eyes. “You know she’s crazy, right?”
“‘Crazy’ is a strong word,” he hedged as he wrapped an arm around her waist.
“Not nearly as strong as the one I was going to say.” She tried to temper her words with a grin, but she couldn’t be emphatic enough on this point. “I’m not comfortable with her knowing about us. You can tell her you’re with someone, but not me.”
He narrowed his eyes in a look of confusion and more than a little hurt. “Are you ashamed of being with me?”
“Of course not,” she answered immediately. “But I’m also not going to have a bulls-eye drawn on my back for the decidedly unhinged woman to aim at.”
“Thank you.” She threw her arms around his neck and pulled him into a deep kiss. His hand on her waist slid up until he was cradling her skull in his palm, while his other hand massaged her lower back, working its way under her shirt.
When he came up for air, his eyes were a bit glazed and he was more than a bit flushed. “You’re welcome. Remind me to do whatever it was I did again. Soon.”
Ellie snickered. “Will do. I gotta head home, though. I have to pick up some groceries before I go to work tomorrow and I still haven’t touched my laundry.” She made to leave the kitchen, but he reached out and encircled her wrist with his fingers. Eyebrow raised, she waited.
He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly like he was building up to something. Finally he looked at her, all his anxieties churned up in his topaz eyes, and asked, “Are we cool?”
She brought her hand to her mouth, taking his with hers, and kissed his knuckles. “Of course we are.”
He smiled in response and let her go. It wasn’t often that the damaged parts of him showed, from the marriage, his childhood, any of it, and she felt privileged and responsible for taking care of him, at least this time. Grabbing her purse, she headed out the door, content in the knowledge that he valued her enough to be up front with her, even if she thought it was a ridiculously bad idea. She could live with that.
Chapter 5
Monday came with boots on, angry, tall black Goth boots with steel toes. Ellie fell getting out of the shower, but managed to only sustain a few bruises. She was almost late to work due to a mix-up in her takeout order at her favorite restaurant. Sitting down, she’d found that her day shift counterpart had managed to take no reports at all, and she had four holding for her for over two hours. And as if that wasn’t enough, she got a call from Sean asking her again if she wanted to go to dinner. With Pia and him. On Thursday. Again he’d asked, and again she’d declined.
She couldn’t live with it. Ellie didn’t know what she’d been thinking, and was half-convinced that the last kiss she’d shared with Sean had robbed her of her good sense. She’d said it was fine, but the more she’d had time to think, the more she knew she’d made the right decision and less fine with the situation she was. He was going to dinner with the harpy! Voluntarily! And yes, while he’d asked her to come with him, it was only out of the misguided notion that this would somehow broker a form of peace between them and the dangerously deranged, and not put her squarely on Pia’s cruise missile radar. She’d said no, and now she had to live with it.
Ellie got up after checking to see if she had any pending reports, and finding she didn’t, walked over to the fax machine. In her irritation, she didn’t notice her foot was tangled in the cord to the phone, and when she stepped over to pick up a fax off the machine, she went down in a swearing, windmilling heap. “Mother flamin’—”
“Hey, virgin ears here.”
She looked up from her ignominious landing pad to see Josh leaning against her desk to keep from collapsing in laughter. “Fuck you and your virgin ears.” After pushing herself up from the floor, she snarled as she snatched the fax from the machine and righted the phone on the desk. “What the hell do you want, anyway? Working over today?”
Josh pulled a rolling chair over from another desk and perched, leaning over the back of it. “While I admit my coffin’s open pretty early today, it’s ‘cause I’m working for grant money.”
“Writing tickets and raising hell,” she murmured as she typed up a run from the information on the fax. She was glad that he’d been the only one to see her flop, but he didn’t need to know that.
“And you are just a little ball of sunshine.” She heard him roll over closer to her and from the corner of her eye, she watched him reach out to pinch her cheek.
Ellie didn’t look up from her work. “Not if you plan to keep that hand.”
Taking his hand back, he huffed. “Okay, what’s really going on? You are eight different kinds of evil right now, and besides that spectacular flounce to the floor, I don’t see a reason why.”
Her first desire was to growl in frustration, but that would only confirm his supposition. She finished her report and sent it off, checking for new ones at the same time. When she didn’t find one, and thus a reason to send him on his way, she dropped her chin to her chest. “I didn’t flounce, I attacked the floor,” she grumbled softly.
“Then your war cry needs some work.” Josh rolled his chair over next to hers and after a couple aborted attempts, tentatively touched her shoulder. “I’m here if you wanna talk, and I think you might need to.”
Ellie pushed back from the desk with a plaintive sigh. She felt like she was on the verge of some truly impressive whining. Still, maybe talking to Josh would get it out of her head and she could get a handle on the emotional drama enough to make the situation make more sense. “Sean invited me to dinner,” she harrumphed.
Josh stood up and spun the chair around to sit in it properly, only this time with his feet on the desk and his hands behind his head. “Well hell, sweetie, if it makes you that mad, don’t go.”
She rolled her eyes at his solution. “Oh, believe me, I’m not.”
“So then what’s the problem?”
“He’s going to dinner with Pia on Thursday.” Even just saying the words tasted awful.
“Oh damn.” Josh slowly took his feet down from the desk and braced his elbows on his knees. “He was planning on taking you both to dinner? Together? Has he lost his mind?”
Ellie laughed at the look of genuine concern for Sean’s welfare on Josh’s face. “I don’t think so, but don’t quote me. It’s just now…” She trailed off as she listlessly typed on the computer while she checked for pending reports that needed her attention. She loved working for the police department, but taking every petty harassment and theft of shrubbery report sometimes wore on her nerves. The detective aid was retiring soon, and she had already put in for that job which was little more than a glorified receptionist, but until then, she took the non-emergent reports that were called in to dispatch and put on her screen. Too bad there weren’t any, and not even the phone rang to give her something to do besides ruminate over the minefield in her head.
“Now you want to go to see what she has to say, even if it would put you in harm’s way where she’s concerned.” The problem with having a best friend who knew you was, unfortunately, they knew you. He said nothing else, but got up to pace between her chair and the fax machine. He finally stopped and opened his mouth to speak, but was waylaid by a voice on the radio asking where he was. He looked to her with his eyes full of apology, but answered he’d be on the way in a minute. “I’m sorry. I know we were in the middle of a conversation.”
“I hate it when work interferes with my personal life…at work.” She turned back to her computer and pulled up a pending report. Girl harassing her ex’s new squeeze. And the universe laughed…bastards. “Go ahead, I got this. We’ll talk later.”
Josh leaned down, and gave her a hug and kiss on the cheek. “To be continued.” He winked at her as he walked out to his car and into the burgeoning evening.
She dialed the number of the complainant and sighed. “Indeed.”
* * *
Sean sat at his desk, tossing a bouncy ball he’d gotten from a gum machine at the Italian joint on the far-east side where they’d gone for lunch. To the rhythm of the Thelonius Monk song coming from the tiny speakers on his computer, he launched it against the wall, off the desk, and into his hand, over and over again, as he thought about his situation. Of course, Pia’d made reservations at the restaurant where he’d proposed, and when he’d objected to Friday night on principle, she’d acquiesced to Thursday, as a show of good faith. His real problem was he didn’t want Ellie to feel like he wasn’t giving his all where she was concerned.
She’d expressed reservations about Pia, and was surp
risingly polite about it, if a bit blunt, but Pia was his then and Ellie, with all her fire and spark, was definitely his now. If only he could get her to believe that. He’d tried again, with a text message about the dinner, but again, she’d said no. He’d hoped he’d be able to reconcile his past with his present, but it looked like both sides were intractable.
“You, my friend, look like you have to put down your dog. Are you okay?”
The quiet southern drawl startled him, and he looked up from his musing just in time to get hit in the face with his rubber ball. “Yeah, I’m okay,” he said while rubbing his nose.
Rick ‘Dublin’ Cahill was his running buddy on narcotics, the other half of the self-dubbed ‘Mick Contingent’. A thick-chested kid about five years his junior, with close-cropped blond hair, Dubs was kind of the office bruiser. Not many people got to know his philosophical side, but Sean had been the unwitting—and occasionally unwilling—recipient of his musings for a while now. “I don’t believe you.”
“I’m fine, Dubs,” he reiterated as he crawled beneath his desk in search of his ball. “Women problems.”
He leaned back against the desk and all Sean could see were his jeans and scuffed boots that may have been black at one time but were now beige in witness protection. “Too many or too few?”
Sean chuckled and backed out from under the desk. “Too many, unfortunately.”
“An embarrassment of riches,” Dubs said with a wry grin.
Sean climbed back into his chair and began bouncing the ball between his feet. “Yeah, except one of them’s my ex.”
“My condolences,” his friend answered promptly. “So what’s going on with this collection of women to make you look like you pawned your balls and they sold them out from under you?”
Sean grimaced at the analogy and put the ball away in the top drawer of his desk. “It’s not a collection, it’s just two, and it’s complicated.”
“Well—” Dubs drew out the word as he sought out a chair and pulled it over to the desk next to Sean. He dropped his big frame into the chair which squealed slightly in protest. “Why don’t you tell me what ‘it’ is, and maybe you’ll feel better enough to stop listening to this morose shit you have on your computer. Christ on a bicycle, are we going to a funeral, or what?”
The Ex File (Behind the Blue Line Series Book 1) Page 7