Peyton searched her face. “He’s my best friend.”
Maria shrugged.
“For eight years, he’s been my best friend, my partner. What are you suggesting?”
Maria gave a little laugh. “I’m not going to spell it out for you, Brooks. Obviously, you’re not ready…”
Ready? Ready for what?
“But ask yourself this. I eavesdropped on that conversation with Devan about Runny Misery being pregnant.”
Peyton was getting more and more confused. “Yeah?”
“Your ex-boyfriend tells you he got another woman pregnant, but rather than being upset about that, you’re sitting in the bathroom, upset over your partner getting a promotion, and it’s not because you didn’t get one.”
Peyton sighed and looked at their clasped hands. “I’ve got a headache.”
“It’s probably from sitting in the bathroom.”
Peyton laughed. “You know, for someone who doesn’t do girl talks, you did pretty good.”
“Shut up.” She pulled her hand away.
Peyton caught it again. “You know what this makes us?”
“Don’t say it.”
“But it’s true.”
“Please, Brooks, don’t.”
“We’re girlfriends!”
Maria rolled her eyes and pulled her hand free. “God help me.”
“That’s right. We’re officially girlfriends.”
Maria rose to her feet, shaking her head.
“You know what we need to do to seal the bond?”
“I’m afraid to ask.”
“We need to go shoe shopping.”
Maria gave her a pointed look. “Now that I agree. We have got to do something about those dyke boots you wear.”
Peyton laughed and reached for her hand. “Thank you.”
Maria squeezed her hand in return. “Thank you for taking me in when you did.”
Peyton smiled. “My pleasure. Sometimes you’re all right, you know?”
“Nice. Now do you mind? I’ve gotta pee something horrible.”
Peyton nodded and watched her walk away. You’ve got to evolve that relationship. Well, shit. That required some serious thinking.
CHAPTER 15
“Ta-da,” said Abe, coming out of the hallway, waving his arms in the air.
Marco looked up from the couch as Peyton stepped from her room in a burgundy wrap-around dress, strappy open-toed heels with her curls wound up in an elegant chignon. Sitting in the recliner next to him, Jake let out a whistle and rose to his feet, going over to her and taking her hand.
“Ooolala, sexy lady!” he said, twirling her around.
She laughed and pirouetted for him.
“You are one hot babe!” he continued. “Stan’s gonna have a heart attack.”
She smiled, then her eyes fell on Marco. “Is it too much? I don’t want to give him the wrong idea.”
Marco returned her smile, shaking his head. “It’s not too much.” He wanted to say more, tell her what he really thought, but that would just make things tense between them again.
Abe had done something with her make-up, bringing out her eyes. They looked large and smoky, unbelievably exotic and sexy, and the way a few curls trailed down her neck made him wish he could follow them with his fingertips. He needed to stop staring at her, but he couldn’t.
She finally broke eye contact. “I forgot my wrap.” Turning on her heel, she dashed back into her room, followed by Pickles.
“Wow! You did wonders, man,” said Jake to Abe.
“I had a good canvas to work with. She’s adorable when she’s made up, isn’t she?”
“Yeah, she is.”
“Ryder!” Marco snapped.
“What? It’s true. That is one knock-out of a woman.”
Abe laughed. “So, what should we drink tonight, Jake my man?” He moved toward the kitchen.
“You’re not drinking anything,” said Marco, picking up Jake’s newspaper and shaking it out. He leaned back on the couch and crossed his ankle over his knee.
“Why am I not drinking?” Abe asked, stopping in the entrance.
“Because you’re going to dinner with me.”
Abe gasped and placed his hand over his heart. “Our first date.”
“It’s not a date,” growled Marco. “Ryder’s coming.”
“Ryder is not coming,” said Jake, shaking his head. “Ryder is parking himself on that couch and watching baseball.”
“If Ryder enjoys walking, he might want to reconsider.”
“Wait,” said Abe, moving back into the living room. “Why is Ryder coming on our date?”
“It’s not a date.” Marco snapped the paper and folded it, tossing it on the coffee table. He couldn’t concentrate on it anyway. His thoughts kept returning to Peyton. “Both of you are coming because I’m not going to sit in a restaurant by myself. It’s pathetic.”
Before either of them could protest further, the doorbell rang. Marco pushed himself to his feet and stalked over to it, yanking it open. Frustration darkened his mood. He couldn’t believe Stan Neumann was taking Peyton on a freakin’ date, while he got stuck with Abe and Jake Ryder.
Stan took an involuntary step back as he came face to face with a glowering Marco. He was dressed in a checked navy blue suit with a white shirt and a brown tie. He had a bouquet of flowers in one hand and a wrapped present in the other.
“Stan.”
Stan edged past him and into the house. “Hey, Marco. I didn’t know you’d be here.”
“I’m going with you tonight.”
Stan turned to face him, frowning. “I’m sorry. What?”
“I’m going to dinner with you.”
Stan shifted uncomfortably. “Um, why?”
“To watch out for Peyton.”
“Uh, I wouldn’t do anything to hurt Peyton, Marco.”
“Not you, Stan. The Janitor.”
“Oh.” Stan looked over his shoulder at Jake and Abe. “Hello.”
“Hey, Stan. Bet you didn’t know you were taking all of us out tonight,” said Jake, throwing himself into his chair again.
“I am?”
“No,” said Marco. “They’re coming with me. We’ll be at another table.”
“Oh.” Stan gave them all a bewildered look. “You don’t think the Janitor would bother Peyton on a date?”
“Are you worried about it?”
“No, no,” said Stan quickly. “I can protect her, but I just want to be prepared.”
Marco closed the door and walked over to the barstools, taking a seat. He couldn’t help but smirk a little. “How ‘bout I be your backup?”
“If you think that’s necessary, but I think…” His voice trailed off. Peyton appeared in the hallway. “Oh, wow!” he breathed.
“Hello, Stan,” she said, coming up to him.
He offered her the flowers and then the present. She smelled the flowers. “They’re beautiful.” She passed them to Abe to place in a vase. “Thank you. You didn’t have to bring me anything.”
“It’s your birthday.” He nodded at the present. “Open it. I think you’ll like it.”
“Okay.” She draped the wrap over a barstool and began carefully unwrapping the box.
Stan stared at her in adoration as she did so, his eyes looking enormous behind his glasses. Jake snickered in his recliner and swiveled around so he could watch them. Marco shot him a glare.
Peyton unwrapped the box and handed Marco the paper. He balled it up and chucked it at Abe, who dropped it. Then she settled the box on the counter and carefully lifted the lid. Marco leaned over to see what Stan had picked out for her.
It was some sort of transparent sheet with a drawing of an Asian girl on it, encased in a glass frame.
“It’s an animation cel,” said Stan.
Peyton lifted it out, studying it. “An animation cel?”
“Yes, from a Disney movie. It’s an original. You can see the number on the bottom.” He pointed to a sm
all metal plaque.
“Oh, yes, I see it now.”
“I got you Mulan.”
“Mulan?”
“Yeah, you remind me of her. A warrior princess.”
Marco shifted to look at Stan. Damn him!
“Wow, Stan, that is so neat. I love it. Mulan’s my favorite Disney movie.”
“Really?”
“Yes.” She settled it back in the box and went to him, kissing his cheek. “Thank you so much. What a thoughtful gift!”
“Smooth,” said Ryder with a wicked smile for Marco’s benefit.
Marco glared at him again.
“You look beautiful, Peyton,” said Stan a little breathlessly.
Peyton beamed at that. Marco felt his gut tighten. Damn the little geek, he was making him look bad. He wanted to tell Peyton she was beautiful too, but it would sound ridiculous now.
She reached for her wrap and shook it out.
“Let me.” Stan took it from her and as she turned, he draped it over her shoulders, letting his finger trail briefly down her neck.
Marco rose quickly to his feet, forcing them to separate. “Okay, let’s go.”
“Don’t make me go,” moaned Ryder from his chair.
“Shut up, Ryder!” he growled.
“Wait. Why is Jake going?” she asked.
Abe leaned on the counter, bracing his chin with his fist. “I’m going too, sweets, and apparently this isn’t a date.”
“Wait.” Peyton shook her head. “Why are you going?”
“To not have a date with my Angel.”
Peyton briefly closed her eyes. “What?”
“They’re going with me,” said Marco, moving around her and grabbing his jacket off the peg. “I’m not eating alone.”
“Excuse me, Stan,” she said sweetly, then she went to the door and opened it, reaching in to grab Marco’s arm and drag him out onto the stoop with her. “This is ridiculous.”
“You agreed to the date, not me.”
“I don’t mean the date. I mean you taking the entire house with us.”
“Maria and Cho are out, so it’s just the three of us.”
“Marco!” she said, planting her hands on her hips.
He didn’t want to fight with her, so he reached up and swept a curl off her cheek. “You do look beautiful.”
She went still and her lips parted. Oh God, he wanted to kiss her so badly, he ached with it. A faint flush rose in her cheeks and her breathing quickened a little, then she took a step back. “Okay, I guess we’re all going to dinner then.”
Without another word, she turned and went into the house. Marco considered that. Usually they went round and round, arguing about everything. However, this was an interesting development. Maybe he could get his way once in a while if he remembered this.
* * *
Peyton found herself studying the back of Marco’s head as they sat in the Zuni Café. He was sitting, facing the bank of windows that fronted Market, watching everyone who entered, while she and Stan had been given a smaller table toward the back. Something was changing between her and Marco, and it both excited and terrified her.
She knew she should be worried about the case, or about the fact that he would no longer be her partner, but she couldn’t help but think about the other things that had been happening – the strange energy between them whenever they were together lately. When he’d told her she was beautiful on the stoop, her crazy heart had started pounding and for a minute, for a minute she thought he might…
“Peyton.”
She blinked and looked at Stan.
“You seem really distracted.”
“I’m sorry, Stan. I’m not being very good company, am I?”
“I guess you’ve got a lot on your mind.”
The waiter arrived. “Can I get you anything to drink?”
Stan looked at Peyton. “Do you want wine?”
Peyton smiled. “Sure.”
“What do you recommend?” Stan asked the waiter.
He opened the wine menu and pointed. “We have a delightful Syrah from Sonoma or a Grenache that has a wonderful hint of orange. I would recommend either of those.”
Stan gave Peyton a bewildered look.
“Either of those is fine,” she told the waiter. “We’ll let you decide.”
“Excellent.” He wandered away.
“Have you eaten here before?”
Peyton looked around the restaurant with its rustic metal work, the copper counter on the bar, the splashes of modern art on the white walls, and the red brick breaking up the two story planes of glass. In the center of the restaurant was a giant brick oven that cooked whole chickens for patrons to share.
“No, but I’ve heard about it.”
“They say the chicken’s their specialty. Would you like to try it?”
“Sure.”
The waiter returned with the wine and uncorked it, then poured a little into Stan’s glass. Stan lifted the glass and made a good show of swirling it around before tasting it. He gave a little shiver, then nodded at the waiter. The waiter poured both of them glasses, then folded his hands behind his back.
“Can I tell you tonight’s specials?”
“Actually we think we’ll try the chicken.”
“Excellent choice, sir. You do know the wait is approximately an hour.”
“Oh, uh.” Stan gave her a worried look.
“It’s fine.”
“Fine,” Stan repeated.
“May I recommend the Cesar Salad while you wait?”
“Great.”
He nodded and walked away.
Stan leaned on the table. “Marco’s going to be mad that we ordered the chicken.”
Peyton smiled. “That’s Marco’s problem. It’ll give Abe more time to enjoy his date.”
Stan gave Peyton a mischievous wink, then he lifted his glass and held it up. “Happy birthday.”
Peyton touched her glass to his. “Thank you, Stan.”
He took a sip and settled it on the table again. “Thank you for going out with me, Peyton.”
“Thank you for inviting me. This is fun.”
He smiled and looked down at the table, running his finger over a wrinkle in the white tablecloth. “I know I’m not really your type of guy.” He glanced over his shoulder at the other table where Marco sat. “I know everyone thinks I’m ridiculous for having a crush on you.”
“Why do you say that?”
He glanced up at her. “Clearly you’re way out of my league, Peyton.”
“That’s not true.”
He adjusted his glasses on his nose. “You’re always so nice to me. You never treat me like I’m some pathetic nerd.”
“Because I don’t think of you like that, Stan. Where is this coming from?”
He gave her an uncomfortable smile. “Look, I know this isn’t going anywhere, but I just wanted you to know that when we walked through those doors together just now, I felt about 50 feet tall.”
Peyton settled her glass on the table. “Stan, you are a great guy. You’re wicked smart, and funny, and very interesting.”
“Interesting?”
“Yeah, all of your hobbies. You’re not afraid to be yourself and I really admire that about you. And I believe that you will find someone someday who sees you exactly as I do, and she’s gonna be one of the luckiest women in the world.”
His smile lit up his face, then he looked down again. “Can’t fault me for wishing that woman was you.”
Peyton gave a little laugh. “I’m a handful, Stan. Look at me, I’m 30 and I’ve never been able to make a relationship work my entire life.”
“Maybe you’re just looking at the wrong men, Peyton.”
She hesitated, reaching for her wine. Marco had said the same thing to her recently.
“You need someone who sees you for who you are and doesn’t want to change you. Someone who can accept your strong personality and get pleasure from it, not want to curb you.”
In
voluntarily, her eyes tracked over to Marco. Shit, she thought, grabbing her wine and draining the glass.
* * *
“There is nothing but wine on this menu,” complained Abe, dropping it on his plate.
Marco glared at him. “Pick one or don’t. Stop whining!”
“Wine is so not my style, Angel’D. I need something with panache, with flair…”
“With 80 proof,” said Jake.
“All right, you pick one that matches my personality.” He passed the wine list over to Jake.
Marco regretted asking them to join him. Did it really look so desperate to eat at a nice restaurant alone?
Yeah, he knew it did, but then the maître d had seated them so far from Peyton that he couldn’t hear what they were saying. All in all, the evening was turning into a nightmare. He was actually hoping the Janitor would make an appearance.
“Oh, they have Dom Perignon here.”
Marco glanced over at the menu. “For $200 a bottle!”
“That’ll do,” said Abe, nodding enthusiastically.
“What?”
Abe placed a hand in the middle of his chest. “You should know that when you ask me on a date, Angel, I don’t come cheap.”
“That’s half my paycheck!”
“How bad do you want to shut me up?”
Marco sighed. “Bad.”
Abe went back to looking at the menu. “Oh, they have whole chickens for two. We can split one.” He winked at Marco.
“I’m vegetarian.”
“Oh, right. Well then, Jake and I can split one. You can munch on lettuce.”
Marco glanced at his own menu. “Oh, no, that takes an hour to prepare.”
“They’re on a date,” said Abe, waving airily over his shoulder. “How long do you think they’re going to take? Besides when you go on a date with me, it lasts all night.” He made a kissing motion with his lips.
Jake snickered into his water.
Marco wanted to kick him, but this was too nice a restaurant for violence.
The waiter approached. “Can I get you something to drink?”
“We’ll have a bottle of the Dom,” said Abe.
“Excellent choice. I’ll get that right away.”
Marco glared after him as he left.
Murder in the Presidio (Peyton Brooks' Series Book 6) Page 21