Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 89224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
“I bet it was.”
“Worse, my dad knew, since we added water to what was left in his bottle of very-expensive Scotch to try to hide what we did, but we had taken so much it turned the dark-amber almost clear.”
“What did he do?”
“Nothing. He said that he planned on making us clean the house and mow the lawn, but after finding the state we were in, he said our hangovers were punishment enough.” She laughs softly. “I didn’t have another drink until I was twenty-one, and I’ve never drank Scotch again.”
I smile at that, then dig my fork into the lasagna, cutting off a chunk. The second it hits my tongue, the pasta, meat sauce, ricotta cheese with mozzarella melts in my mouth.
“You don’t think this is your best lasagna?” I swallow and pick up another forkful.
“No. Normally, I make the pasta. I didn’t have time or the stuff here, so I had to use the boxed kind.”
“How did you learn to cook like this?”
“My nanny, who was my dad’s mom.” She watches as I chew another bite. “She always had me in the kitchen with her growing up. She taught me how to make sauce, pasta, and every Italian dish you can think of from scratch.” Her smile is fond.
“You’re Italian?”
“My dad is first generation from Italy. My mom’s family was from Scotland. My mom can’t cook to save her life, much to the horror of my grandmother, who is old-school and convinced the only way to get and keep a man is to make him fat and keep him fed.”
“She might be wrong about the first, but I’m not sure she is about the second.”
“Yeah,” she agrees quietly, watching as I take another bite. “Are you working tomorrow?”
“I’m gonna work from home.”
“Are you sure?”
“There are some issues happening with the case regarding jurisdiction. Right now, my hands are tied.” Truth is, at this point, I’m not sure if the case is even mine and Martinez’s. Grace’s grandfather is fighting to have the state police take over the case.
I get it—the state police have more resources, and that’s something he knows from working in law enforcement. At the same time though, he’s taking precious time and energy away from where it should be focused right now, not pulling strings.
“Well, I’m around all day if you need some help. Or if you need anything next week, just let me know, and I can move things around and help out until your brothers or Karen get back.”
“I appreciate that, Em.”
“No problem.” She hops down off the counter and walks to the door, where she stops to bend over and put on her shoes.
I’d like to claim I’m a gentleman and don’t check out her ass, but it’s impossible not to when it’s covered in tight black spandex. Righting herself, she grabs her vest, and while she’s putting it on, I walk to the door, open it, then step out.
“You don’t need to walk me out. I know Winter is here. I’ll be okay.”
“If she wakes, which isn’t likely, since she sleeps like the dead, she’ll know to stay in the apartment.”
“Miles—”
“Emma, it’s late. The street is safe, because the guys who are normally out after dark get that two officers live here and Clay would hunt them down if they did something stupid. That said, I don’t put that much faith in anyone, so I’m still walking you out.”
“Fine,” she grumbles, and I fight back a smile.
I wait for her to step out, then look down at Skye, who has gotten up from where she was asleep near the fireplace.
“Stay with Winter,” I tell her, so she turns, and I see her go toward Winter’s door as I close the door behind us. The silence as the elevator descends to the first floor is neither awkward nor heavy, and a moment later, the doors open, and motion-sensor lights come on.
When we get outside, I walk her to her car that is now parked behind my personal SUV and follow her to the driver’s side door with my hand on her lower back, opening it for her before she can.
“Thanks,” she says quietly, sliding into her seat. Once she is buckled in, I step back with my hand still holding the top of the doorframe, the urge to bend and kiss her goodnight sitting in my gut like a weight.
“Message when you get into your place.”
“Sure.” She smiles up at me, and I shut the door, then step up onto the sidewalk to wait until she is out of sight to head back into the building.
When I get upstairs into the apartment, I quietly open the door of Winter’s bedroom, the ceiling lit up by her nightlight that makes it look like the galaxy and stars are overhead. On the bed, Winter is fast asleep with one arm and one leg hanging over the edge, the covers she obviously kicked off are on the floor along with her pillow. She doesn’t even twitch as I adjust her, put the blanket back over her, and smooth her hair back away from her face. After shutting off her nightlight, I leave, closing the door, and walk back to the kitchen.