by Kenna Knight
I watch the large group pass huge bowls of food around two tables. Moms and dads helping kids, older kids helping younger kids, and younger kids passing things they don’t want to eat to the dogs under the table.
I’m pretty sure the dogs are fuller than the kids when the meal is over. One black Labrador drags herself into the living room and passes out on the tile by the front door, and a fat Puggle does the same by the back door.
“That was delicious, Mrs. Blackwell, thank you so much,” I say resting my fork on the edge of the plate as Sister Cage from the orphanage taught me to do when I was just a boy. I may have grown up with no family, but the nuns made sure we were clean, had manners, and did well in school. It was all done without the gentle, loving hand of a mother, but at least it was done.
“You’re welcome, dear. I’ll pack up some leftovers for you to take home. And don’t you dare call me Mrs. Blackwell. It’s Mama or Seren, you pick, but I’ll only answer to Mrs. Blackwell once, and that was your once.”
“Okay, thank you, Seren.”
“I call the couch!” Gabriel yells jumping up.
“Oh no you don’t, youngest helps with the dishes. That means you and Grier get your butts in there and help Mama,” Graham yells. The authority in his voice is something I’ve not heard from him yet, and it’s seriously hot. I feel like I should get up and help, too, but that sexy alpha bark made me hard. I sit and watch him corral his siblings into the kitchen and position them at the sink handing a scrub brush to Grier and a dishtowel to Gabriel. By the time they’ve started washing, both are laughing and flicking soapsuds at their bossy brother.
His other sister, Gwen, sits down next to me in Graham’s chair and crosses her arms on the table in front of her. “Hi, I’m Gwen. I hear you’re working on Graham’s case. How’s that coming?”
Gwen is abrupt and all business. “Well, I’m not at liberty to say, but we are doing everything we can to find who is responsible.” She frowns and narrows her eyes. “So you haven’t done anything then.”
I raise my eyebrows and open my eyes wide. “No, that’s not what I meant at all.”
“But you haven’t caught the thief, and you’ve been working on the case for over a week. Don’t the odds of finding out who did it go down significantly after a week?”
“If you don’t mind me asking, Gwen, what do you do for a living?”
She straightens her spine and looks suspicious. “I’m an ICU nurse, why?”
“A nurse, perfect. Try to think of it this way. You have to follow HIPPA laws, correct? You’re not allowed to tell anyone about a patient or their condition without their consent, correct?”
“Yes, of course.”
“It’s the same for the police. I can’t discuss your brother’s case with you just like you can’t tell me what’s going on with the patient in bed four.”
She turns her head sideways and narrows one eye. “I like you, Detective Yale.”
“Good, I’m glad. I’m having a lovely time with you and your family tonight. Your children are beautiful.”
And I’m in. Her face softens, she smiles, and now that we have mutual respect for each other, we are good friends. I learn after fifteen minutes of chatting that Gwen’s husband, Matt, is a stay-at-home dad because it’s too expensive to send three kids under the age of three to daycare. Matt is a photographer, and he still does an occasional family session on the weekends for extra cash, but most of his time is spent raising their kids. I like that they are non-traditional.
Graham rounds the corner from the kitchen with an apology written all over his face. “I’m so sorry, those two would drown each other with the sprayer if I left them alone. You’d think twenty-two-year-olds would be past that by now but nope.”
“It’s fine, Gwen and I were just getting to know each other.”
He looks at his sister and back to me. “She’s being… nice?” he asks.
I frown, and Gwen smiles a huge, sappy smile while batting her eyelashes. “Uh, yes.”
“See, big brother, I can be nice when I want to.”
“Yeah, well that’s not very often. Did she threaten you?” he asks.
“No, not at all.”
Gwen reaches over and squeezes my hand before getting up. “It was lovely chatting with you, but my husband is about to have an aneurysm. I’d better go help him with the kids.”
“Oh, of course, go take care of your kids. I didn’t mean to keep you.” She stands and scrunches up her face at her brother before walking away. Graham crosses his arms over his chest and watches her walk away.
“Sorry, she’s a spitfire.”
“I agree, we started out a little rough, but when we got the wrinkles ironed out, we realized we had a mutual respect for each other.”
He snorts. “That woman doesn’t have respect for anyone. She’s the only nurse in that hospital where she works who will tell the top surgeon where to shove it.”
I shrug my shoulders. “Dunno, maybe it’s because I’m a cop.”
“Maybe.”
“So, what’s next?”
“Next is one of three things. Either we go into the living room and watch a Disney movie with Gwen and Matt’s kids, play flag football in the backyard with my brothers, or we blow this joint and go have a drink someplace where we can talk.”
“Hmm, well, I’m not up on my Disney movies, and I suck at sports, so I vote for drinks. I don’t want to be rude, though.Your mom went to so much work, I hate to dine and dash.”
“She doesn’t mind. She’s already in love with you. I have strict instructions to bring you by at least once a week.”
“Wow, I’m glad she didn’t think I was a pig. I thought she might not want me back after I ate so much.”
“Oh no, that’s why she loves you. Anybody who loves her cooking is golden in her book.”
“I’m definitely golden then. Don’t forget my leftovers.”
“No problem. I’ll grab them, and we can get going. Get ready to be hugged and kissed more than you ever have been before, though. My family hates goodbyes.”
He wasn’t kidding. I have at least four shades of lipstick on my face and bruises on my back from being pounded with dozens of hugs.
“Where are we going?” I ask when we have our helmets on, and he’s starting the bike.
“Do you have a preference?”
“No, not at all.”
“I have a lot of alcohol left from the barbeque. We could go to my house.”
“Okay, sounds good. Do you care if I wash my face?”
My arms are wrapped around his waist, and I feel him chuckle. “You got the Blackwell war paint going on, huh?”
“Yeah, we need to invest in some long-lasting kiss-proof lipstick for them.”
“I know, I’ve done a million makeovers on those women, but they don’t listen.”
He turns us around and pulls out of the driveway toward his neighborhood. When we arrive, it’s dark out, but the lights are on in his house. “You leave a lot of lights on when you’re not home,” I say getting off the bike in his driveway.
“I didn’t leave all those lights on.”
The way he says that makes the hairs on my arms stand up. My hand automatically goes to my hip for my gun. “Does anyone have a key?”
“Just my family, and they’re all at Mom and Dad’s house.” He starts to walk toward the door, and I grab his arm to stop him. “You’re sure you didn’t leave the lights on?”
“I’m positive. I’m unorganized and messy, but I’m thrifty, and I watch my carbon footprint. I know I turned all of them off except the lamp in the front window.”
“You can’t go inside then, I’ll go.”
“Shouldn’t we call the police? Or, check it out first or something?”
“Graham, I am the police. If you go barreling in there, I might have to call for backup and an ambulance.”
He frowns at my abruptness, but I need to be. People don’t think straight in situations like this. It’s be
st to have a professional check it out.
“No, I guess you’re right about that.” I take my phone out of my back pocket to call for backup before I go in, but before I can dial, Jorge opens the front door of Graham’s house and starts down the stairs toward us.
“Jorge? What the hell are you doing in my house?”
I walk around and stand in front of Graham shielding him with my body and gun drawn. “Police, stop, turn around and put your hands where I can see them,” I bark at Jorge. He freezes, and I approach herding him away from Graham.
“I came to get my hoodie and cooler I left here last week. Graham, tell this guy you told me to come over!” he yells. When I reach him, I shove him forward and turn him around so I can pat him down. “Graham!” he yells again in a panic.
“Shut up, why were you inside when Graham wasn’t home?”
“The back door was open, he told me to come, I didn’t think…”
“That’s right, you didn’t think. Do you know you could go to jail right now for trespassing? I better not find any evidence of forced entry.”
“It was open, I swear.”
“Like the safe at the salon? Was that open, too? Is that why you’ve been helping yourself to Graham’s cash?”
He’s shaking from head to toe. Good, he should be. You don’t just fucking waltz into somebody’s house when they aren’t home.
“Levi, wait, he’s right! I forgot I told him to stop by. Don’t hurt him!” Graham says rushing up behind me. I reach behind me with my free hand to stop him from getting any closer.
“Graham, he was in your home without your permission.”
“I know, Levi.” He places his hand on my arm. “My friends know they are welcome in my home anytime.”
“When you’re not here?”
“Yes, yes, even when I’m not here. I rarely lock up, and everyone I work with knows that. Please, put your gun away, he just wants his hoodie and cooler.”
I turn Jorge around and get in his face. Nose to nose I speak in my most menacing tone. “That right? You just want what’s yours?”
“Yes, I swear.” I narrow my eyes and look back and forth between his for a sign of deception, but all I see is fear.
I poke him in the chest with my long finger. “If I were you, I wouldn’t take a step inside that house if Graham isn’t home again.”
“I won’t, never.” His eyes dart to Graham behind me. I lower my weapon and step out of his bubble. Graham goes around me and hugs a stiff, scared Jorge who still has his eyes on me.
“I’m so sorry, he’s just looking out for me. He didn’t mean to scare you.”
“Well, he did, shit, man, I didn’t come over here to be hassled like this. And I never took anything from the salon, Graham. I swear to God. I love you, man, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Everything I have is because of you. I would never do something to hurt you.”
“I know. I’m sorry it’s just been a very stressful time. Nobody thinks you’re a thief.”
“Speak for yourself,” I say under my breath.
Graham turns to glare at me. “Levi, he says he didn’t steal from me, and I believe him.”
I shake my head and bite my tongue so I won’t say anything stupid that will alienate me from Graham.
“I’m going in the house if that’s okay with you,” I ask.
“Fine,” Graham says.
I focus my attention on Jorge while I holster my gun. “See how I asked before going inside?”
He rolls his eyes and Graham sighs. “Please, Levi, I’ll be in in a minute.”
Against my better judgment, I leave them to talk on the lawn and go inside. I don’t trust Jorge, but that’s part of why I want to go in and have a look around before Graham does.
I step inside the bright, airy living room at the front of the house and groan. Every single light in the house is on, and there are a lot of lights. The house isn’t neat and tidy like it was last weekend for his party. There are several outfits spread out on the back of the couch, two laundry baskets on the quartz coffee table, protein bar wrappers and empty smoothie cups on the kitchen island along with general clutter that’s accumulated over the past few days.
It’s hard to tell if Jorge went through Graham’s things or not. I make my way around the rooms switching off lights and throwing things in the trash until I hear the door open and close.
I watch Graham walk to his bedroom and come back with a gray hoodie and then silently he opens one of the heavy wrought iron doors to the backyard and returns with a cooler. When he walks by, he holds them up as if to say “See,” and I cringe.
He was right about his friend. Again.
I move to the window and watch him hand Jorge his things, pat him on the back, and walk him to his truck parked in the street. I feel like shit, but it’s part of my job to be suspicious, and Graham brings out something fiercely protective in me.
I sit down and fold laundry aimlessly until he returns.
“You don’t have to do that, here, let me get rid of those baskets…” he says picking up the laundry basket at my feet. I grab it and put it back on the floor.
“No, it’s fine, it’s relaxing for me.” He straightens up and looks at me like I’ve lost my damn mind.
“Relaxing?”
“Yeah, I’m a neat freak.”
He flops down on the couch opposite me closing his eyes and resting his head on the cushions. “We’re kind of like Felix and Oscar, you know that?” he asks.
“Felix and who?”
“The Odd Couple, it was a TV show, you know about the guy who was a slob, and the other was a neat freak?”
“Nope, never heard of it. Must have been an American thing.”
“Yeah, it was. I forget you aren’t from here.” He scrubs his hands over his face and sits up on the edge of the couch giving me his full attention. “Jorge has a problem.”
“Yeah, he walks into his friends’ houses when they aren’t home and turns on every damn light in the place,” I say my tone sarcastic.
“No, I’m serious. He turned all the lights because he’s afraid of the dark, and he was worried about being in here when I wasn’t home, but he has a drug problem. He just admitted it to me and asked for help. But, before you say anything, he swears on his mother’s grave he isn’t the one stealing from the salon. He says he’s gone so far as to sleep with someone for drugs, but he never took a penny from me.”
I want to say how very noble of him, but I keep my mouth shut. The fact that he admitted to being a drug addict means nothing to me as far as his character goes. To me, it says he’s manipulative, and he’s playing on Graham’s good heart. In essence, it pisses me off.
“I offered to help him get clean. I know of a rehab center in Seattle that’s excellent. Some friends of mine have been there, and they’re doing well. I’m going to drive him up next weekend, and I thought maybe you could go with us to keep me company on the drive home.”
This man is unbelievable. I’ve never met someone with a bigger heart. I’d feel like a shit bag for not being more understanding if I hadn’t been manipulated in the same exact way a million times myself.
“Yeah, sure I’ll come with you. If you don’t mind me asking, how did that admission come up in conversation?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Just curious.”
“Just suspicious, you mean?”
“Graham, I’m sorry. I know he’s your friend and employee, but it’s in my nature to be suspicious. I do it for a living. Jorge admitting that to you just now seems convenient. It was like he was trying to deflect the attention off of what was happening here tonight onto something you would be sympathetic about.”
“Or he was scared shitless after a cop held him at gunpoint for stopping by his friend’s house to pick up his hoodie and cooler.”
Now he’s getting defensive and angry which means I’m not doing my job very well. But this isn’t the time to be doing my job, is it? I’m on a date
, not working a case.
“You’re right, I should go.” I stand and start for the door before remembering that he brought me here on his bike. He grabs my hand as I pass him.
“You don’t have to go. I didn’t mean to snap.”
“Don’t apologize, he’s your friend, and I’m sure you know him better than I do. Sometimes it’s hard for me to separate work from my personal life. That’s why it’s not the best idea for detectives to get involved with victims.”
He stands not letting go of my hand. “Are you trying to say we shouldn’t see each other?”
“God no. I like you, Graham, a lot. I need to solve this case, so we don’t have it hanging over us, that’s all.”
“So what do we do now?”
“I think that’s up to you.”
“Good, because what I want to do is this.” He steps forward and slides his free hand behind my neck to pull me forward into a gentle kiss. It’s slow and sweet at first, but gradually I find myself exploring the muscles of his back with my free hand and nudging my leg between his to press my cock against his. A moan rumbles from his throat, and I feel his teeth sink into my bottom lip, and that’s it, I want him more than I’ve ever wanted a man before.
I let go of his hand so I can slip mine around to cup his ass and pull him against me. Fuck, I want this man, this kind-hearted, creative, sexy as hell, tatted-up man.
It’s been a long time since I’ve kissed somebody I cared about. I’d forgotten how different kissing with passion and meaning is from simply kissing as a precursor to fucking.
I love it, I love it too much. Kissing like this leads to a shattered heart and permanent damage to the soul. That’s why I’ve kept my encounters brief and casual since Neil. That’s also why I pull away when I feel him start to walk me backward in the direction of his bedroom.
I place my hand on his chest. He ends the kiss with his eyes still closed. “Sorry, I got carried away.”
I hook my finger under his chin and tip his face to mine encouraging him to open his eyes. Shaking my head, I smile at him. “Don’t be sorry for that. You’re incredible, Graham, but I’m not ready for more yet, is that okay?”