“I—” I froze.
I could’ve sworn they’d all migrated over to the front door. My cheeks burned with embarrassment and I instinctively turned toward the balcony, hoping for an assist.
Jake, however, had his back to me and was obviously still pretending that I didn’t exist.
“Look, miss, I’m half deaf, so you’re going to have to speak up.” He leaned in over the counter.
I took a half-step back, my eyes darting around the kitchen like ping-pong balls. “I—”
Think, dammit.
“I said, ‘Oh, this tuna looks juicy.’” I tapped a finger against the tin of cat food for good measure and added, “Yummy.”
He looked at the can and then back up at me skeptically. Completely going for broke, I began patting my stomach and nodding like a loon.
“Sweetheart, that’s salmon,” he gruffly stated. “And cat food.”
I kept nodding, even as he went back to work, mumbling something about the pretty ones always being bat shit crazy.
Once he was out of earshot, I turned on Bootsy, hissing, “You made me look like an idiot!”
“Oh, I don’t think you needed the cat for that.” Jake leaned against the fridge.
“How much of that did you witness?”
He smirked. “I caught you pantomiming the deliciousness of the cat food. Is that something you do to convince the cat or yourself?”
I placed my forehead against the countertop with a groan.
“I’m actually not here about that though. I’m here on business.”
I looked up with a frown. “Why are you talking like you just arrived? You’ve been here for two days. Stop acting like you’re running an actual investigation.”
“Ms. Michaels, I’m afraid I’m going to need to question you. We need to know your habits, see if we can establish your whereabouts over the last week or two. It might help us come up with a motive for who would want to hurt you.” His tone remained even, a testament to how many times he’d made this exact speech.
What the actual fuck?
And, who was ‘we?’
“Wow. I guess we’re moving right past pleasantries this morning, aren’t we? And I haven’t even had coffee yet.”
Bootsy began yowling and pawing at the belt of my robe. I took the can opener and turned it forcefully around the can before dumping the toxic fish parts onto a paper plate.
Jake’s self-righteous smirk faded almost instantly. His skin had even taken on a greenish tint. “Oh my god, what the hell is that?”
“Breakfast,” I said with a grin. “You know, for people who are here on official police business. Eat up, Detective.”
He grabbed my bicep and lowered his voice. “What do you want, Hayden? I’m too friendly last night, but this morning it’s too formal. I’m just trying to do my job so that I can get home. Is that too much to ask?”
“Oh, it’s Hayden again? Make up your damn mind, Detective Hopkins. You’re giving me a headache.”
“Fuck me,” he muttered.
God, I would.
And that fact irritated me to no end.
I took a moment to ogle him as he rolled his eyes. Today, he was wearing a heather blue t-shirt with a small white flag screen-printed on the sleeve.
He was my enemy. I needed to remember that.
“How about this? You call me Jake, I call you Hayden, and then you tell me what it is you do all day?”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “What are you implying? That I don’t write all day? You think I’m lazy? Is that it, Jake?”
He dropped a fist onto the counter. “Jesus Christ, lady. I’m getting nowhere with you. Just go get dressed.”
“She’s a handful, isn’t she, boss?” A worker materialized from the hallway. He winked at me and my brow furrowed. I couldn’t place him, but maybe he’d done work on my apartment before.
I turned my attention back to Jake. “I don’t know if I want to go anywhere with you.”
The other man chuckled. “That’s right, lady. You reclaimed that pussy. He better recognize.”
Oh, shit.
Someone had heard me after all.
Jake frowned. “She what?”
“I’ll be ready in five,” I blurted before all but running from the kitchen. The worker’s laugh followed me down the hall and into the bedroom.
“Okay, now when we get there, act normal. Order whatever you usually get. Sit where you normally do. That kind of thing. Don’t get too focused on looking for a suspect. That’s my job.” Jake hit his turn signal and switched lanes. I was riding shotgun in the shiny black Raptor I’d written for him and, any moment now, I was going to wake up back in bed, having dreamt this entire thing. I rubbed my damp palms against my jeans and focused on my breathing.
After getting dressed in record time, Jake had wanted to know my schedule for a typical day. When I mentioned that I wrote at a local coffee shop a couple of times a week, his eyes lit up. I was relieved that I’d left out the fact that I worked at a salon in the afternoons and evenings because there was not a chance in hell of me letting him tag along there.
We pulled into the parking lot and Jake turned to me. He studied me for a second, giving a slight head shake at my you’ve got to be kitten me right meow, t-shirt. “This is the place?” He looked through the windshield at the Cold Brews Co. sign and then back at me. “It looks like a bar.”
“No, their specialty is cold brew coffees—look, is this a good idea?”
Translation: Is this safe?
He nodded. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”
The thought that someone, besides Bootsy and Aaris, wanted to keep me safe did weird things to my heart, even if it was coming from Jake. I fought the urge to pump my fist in the air while laughing like a lunatic.
“After all, you’re my meal ticket. If you get dead, I can’t get back home,” he finished with a pouty smirk.
Oh good, the limbic rage was back. I’d been worried it was gone forever once the handcuffs were off.
“Why do you do that with your mouth?" I snapped, as I unbuckled and climbed down to the pavement.
“Do what?” He pursed his lips again.
“That! You’re doing it again.”
At his blank expression, I forced my own lips into a duck pose as he held the coffee shop door open for me. “Like this.”
“Why are you doing that to your face? Stop. People are staring.” He hissed, glancing around.
"You look like that all the time.”
“Good Morning, Hayden,” my favorite barista, Damien, called over the espresso machine as the door jingled above our heads, announcing our arrival. “The usual?”
I immediately softened my expression, trying to channel the joy and tranquility that tried to flee when Jake entered a room. “Yeah, that’ll be perfect. Thanks, Damien. How’d Paul do on his test?”
He poured steamed milk into a paper cup for a to-go order with a dramatic eye roll. “Nailed it. Like he does everything else. I just have to talk him off the ledge every time though. How’d I end up the motivator in this relationship? I swear.”
“Because you’re a positive person and deserving of all the good things life has to offer,” I reminded him as I selected a bottled water from the refrigerated case
“I just come here a couple of times a week, but know everyone’s life story,” Jake quietly taunted at my back, his body inches from mine. A shudder worked its way down to my toes as the scent of campfire and pine flooded my nostrils.
Were there notes of citrus layered in there? No, I was definitely detecting hints of clean laundry that had been dried on a clothesline mixed with something.
Gah, what was it?
I wanted to lean back and rest my head against his chest while looking up at him adoringly. Just like I’d witnessed the younger couples that frequented this place do on more than one occasion. But this time, it’d be me experiencing something other than abject disappointment.
Me and my
very own tree.
And I’d climb that redwood every day.
Just doing my part to save the earth, kids.
I was struck with the image of massive hands on my hips, pinning me in place. I’d just bet that his fingers would curl in possessively, marking me as his to anyone who dared to look. The cold air blasted around bottles of juice and water, yet inside, I was sweltering.
His proximity was messing with my brain waves. I straightened with a shaky exhale and carried my water over to the register, doing my best to ignore my flushed cheeks and the giant I came in with.
Damien added a heart to the foam and handed me my caffè mocha before noticing Jake. “Hey, you brought a friend,” he exclaimed in his typical sing-song.
I shook my head. “We just came in at the same time. I don’t know this man.”
I wasn’t just imagining all the ways I’d like him to defile me in front of the poor beverage case, either, in case you were wondering.
“Are you sure you don’t want to get to know him?” he stage-whispered, raising his eyebrows up and down suggestively as he snagged me a cinnamon roll from the case.
“Oh, no. I’ve got quite enough excitement in my life.”
Damien gave Jake another once over. “If you say so. I personally think when excitement comes packaged like that, you thank the universe and don’t ask questions. But, that’s just me. How’s Bootsy doing? Is she still loving her holistic food?”
“Yes. It has made such a difference with her…”
Shit, what was it supposed to do?
“Poops?” I offered hesitantly just as Damien suggested, “Her coat?”
He frowned. “It shouldn’t have changed her bowel habits. My girls didn’t seem to be any different. Maybe check with the company—”
I waved my hand. “Oh, no I meant that she was much more ‘regular,’ if you know what I mean. Poor thing, uh, couldn’t get the job done before. This food has really taken in her interconnectedness with her, um, environment. She’s living her best holistic life now.”
I made the mistake of looking over at Jake. He stood at the counter with wide eyes and a what the fuck are you talking about expression on his face.
• Confession: I never actually bought the cat food that Damien recommended. I went to the pet store with every intention of purchasing the all-natural, chock full of vitamins and omegas, and completely grain-free canned cat food until I saw the price. At six bucks a tin, I decided that I would just let Bootsy continue her unwholesome lifestyle. Unfortunately, Damien asked about it the very next time I was in, and instead of coming clean, I told a little white lie. He’d just made it seem like letting your fur baby eat anything else was bad pet parenting. And, it wasn’t like he would ever know. He wasn’t going to show up to my apartment, demanding to see the contents of Bootsy’s litter box.
Damien nodded. “Well, let me know if you need anything else for her. Oh, have you noticed how much more connected she is spiritually to you now? I swear, I recommend it to everyone.”
I avoided Jake’s penetrating stare as I paid before patting the front pocket of my backpack. “Definitely. So… Zen. Well, I better get to it.”
“Same. I’ll come by and check on you in a bit.”
I stuck the bottle of water in the side pocket of my bag, juggling the cinnamon roll and mocha as I made my way to the wooden table near the back. It was the only table with an outlet that was out of direct sunlight.
Next to it was an old wooden hutch that held cream and sugar. I found that it was the best seat in the house for eavesdropping, which was a win-win for an author in need of a story.
I loved everything about coming here. From the exposed brick walls and ceiling beams to the vintage signs and old produce case turned bookshelf, it was the perfect place to let my creativity flow.
Jake solved his first case here. Incidentally, he also fell off a balcony at this very table. It held a special place in my heart.
“I’m going to sit on the other side of the room,” Jake said in a low voice. Instinctively, I turned to where his voice came from just in time to see him add sugar to his coffee.
“No, don’t turn around. You and I aren’t having a conversation.”
He was going to add precisely two and a half raw sugars, keeping the other half in his pocket for his next caffeine fix. When I heard the distinct sound of paper being folded, a victorious smirk spread across my face. God, I loved being right.
“Why are you smiling?” He kept his back to me, so it appeared as if he was having a conversation with the various creamers.
“I’m not.” My grin widened.
He sighed. “You are. I can see your reflection in the carafe. What about this investigation is funny to you? See, someone shoots up my door, I’m not laughing. Then again, I’m not trying to have a spiritual intervention with my cat.”
My smile faded, and I turned all of my attention into retrieving my laptop from the backpack at my feet. “You’re just so—” What was he? “Predictable. Everything you do is exactly the way I wrote it. Sometimes, I’m even convinced that I know what you’re going to do next before you do.”
I saw him reach for a stirrer in the reflection of my laptop screen. Judging by how vigorously he was using it, I’d gotten under his skin.
“You’re probably right,” he finally conceded. “You are, after all, operating on an entirely different plane than the rest of the world. I’ll be across the room; try to act normal.”
I bit the inside of my cheek. “And how am I supposed to do that when you’re watching me from across the room?”
“Just write the book, Hayden. Don’t worry about who’s coming or going. Let me handle that. Tap your finger twice against the table if you understand.”
I did, feeling like a secret agent in a summer blockbuster.
With villains at every turn, there was only one woman capable of saving the world. All she needed was her trusty laptop and some caffeine—
“Hayden, I just needed you to tap twice. You can stop now.” He snagged a newspaper off an empty table and tucked it under his arm before moving toward a table near the front. From there, he’d be able to see everyone coming and going.
I took a bite of my cinnamon roll and cracked my knuckles before pulling up my manuscript.
Alright, Laura. Let’s solve a mystery…
Laura stood, shoulder to shoulder, with some of the city’s most upstanding citizens. It was unfathomable to think that any one of them could’ve been responsible for the body lying in the street, but her instincts told her that was exactly the case.
My mind went blank, and I began distractedly counting each pulse of the cursor. I was simply rehashing what I’d already covered. In all honesty, I had no idea what to do with Laura. Jake had pointed out her implied elderliness more than once and now I couldn’t help but picture her as some blue-haired granny with a cane.
How was she supposed to solve a murder?
Plus, by mentioning her husband early on, I’d destroyed any chance of adding a love interest for friction. It was shit.
I tried again.
Laura stepped away from the crowd and searched for… a way out of this story. She’d gotten roped into playing the main character after the author killed off the other one. Laura didn’t want to be next.
Laura was fucking everything up.
Jake caught my eye and frowned from over the newspaper. Obviously, he was enjoying the drivel I was spewing out about as much as I was.
I took a long drink of coffee, but the caffeine only confirmed what I already knew. I needed a new main character. Someone who was younger. Female. Maybe she’d been exposed to law enforcement by a former boyfriend or family member. Just enough that she’d know her way around a crime scene—oh my god.
My legs caught the edge of the table as I quickly stood up, rattling the plate containing my half-eaten cinnamon roll. I just needed to act discreetly.
Jake had the paper up again, reading, so I couldn’t signal for Pl
an A, which was for him to meet me in the bathroom. I was going to have to go with Plan B. I walked over behind his table and looked out the large glass garage door that they opened during the summer months.
Realizing I still hadn’t grabbed his attention, I stretched my arms overhead and yawned loudly.
“Hayden, what the hell are you doing?” he asked, without lowering the paper.
“I have a question,” I said, much louder than anticipated. I tried again, this time lowering my voice. “I have a question. About the book.”
When he remained quiet, I continued. “I think you’re right about Laura—oh man, what a beautiful day it is! Sorry, I thought that person was coming over here. We gotta stay discreet, right? So, I’m starting to think that maybe she’s not the right character. I was wondering if maybe—”
Jake dropped the newspaper and pushed his chair back away from the table, the legs scraping loudly against the concrete floor.
Good. We were going to discuss this like real people and not spies. Although I really felt like I was starting to get the hang of it.
“Our cover’s completely blown. I’ll be out in the truck.” I followed his gaze over to the counter where Damien was waving slyly at me.
I returned it and turned back in time to see Jake disappear through the front door.
Shit.
“Decided you were in the mood for some excitement, after all?” Damien carried a damp cloth in his hand, but he wasn’t here to wipe down the table. He was here for the dirt.
“Um, well, I tried. Got shot down. Better luck next time, I guess.” I kept sneaking furtive glances toward the parking lot, hoping to catch a glimpse of my surly detective.
Well, not mine, mine.
“He’s kind of a pretty boy, isn’t he?” Damien asked.
I nodded. “Yep. It wouldn’t have worked out. Bootsy’s the most high maintenance thing in my life. I don’t have room for another. Would you mind boxing up my cinnamon roll and getting me a to-go cup? I’m just not feeling my muse this morning.”
“Sure thing.”
It was supposed to be part of the cover, but I realized that there was no scenario where Jake suddenly developed feelings for me. He’d said just as much before we came in.
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