Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 54836 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 274(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 183(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54836 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 274(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 183(@300wpm)
“Whatever it would take to make you feel comfortable isn’t insane,” I said, shrugging.
“Any idea how much those are?”
“Fifty to a hundred per window, depending on the design.” I watched as she mentally did the math. She didn’t have a lot of windows. But she was already shelling out a pretty penny for the security system, and then more for the dog and supplies. “If you decide to do it, I can install them,” I offered.
“You’ve done too much already,” she said, giving me a sad head shake.
“You’ve got to stop thinking that,” I insisted. “Keeping you safe is a top priority,” I told her. Then, despite myself, added, “And I don’t just mean because of my case.”
“Det—“
“Wells,” I corrected.
“Wells,” she repeated. “You have to let me thank you somehow,” she said. “How about… I can cook you dinner. You’re always working. I’m sure you don’t have enough time to get a home-cooked meal.”
“Don’t think I’ve had one since last Thanksgiving,” I admitted, feeling a warmth spread through me at the idea of her cooking for me.
“Then it’s settled. I’ll cook dinner for you. After all of this, maybe I will have to do it a few times,” she added, and I couldn’t tell if she was flirting with me or just being friendly. Her energy was all over the place.
“I will never turn down a home-cooked meal,” I told her.
“Do you have any favorite foods?”
“Anything that doesn’t come from a takeout menu or the prepared food section at the grocery store,” I told her.
“I’m reasonably sure I can do better than that. Maybe… tomorrow?” she suggested. “After we look at dogs.”
“It’s a date,” I said, internally beating myself up about it until I saw a little flush break out across her pretty face.
It was probably a career-ruining mistake to get involved with a witness in an ongoing case.
But, for once, I couldn’t seem to make myself care.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Mari
I was sure it was just, you know, a turn of phrase.
It’s a date.
But as I got myself dressed in the hotel room, I couldn’t help but feel the little flutters in my belly as I slipped into a pair of my best-fitting jeans and a lightweight pink sweater.
The bruises on my face were mostly gone, but I slathered on some makeup to take them away completely, then threw on some mascara and tinted lip balm to complete the look.
Not trying too hard, but a lot more put-together than I had been the last few times I’d seen the man.
I had to admit that it was nice having my car back, even if there was that little true crime narrator in the back of my head thinking about the fact that my attacker probably knew what my car looked like, and could be lying in wait right this very moment.
It was going to be fine.
Fine, damnit.
It was still light out. And I’d parked as close to the doors as I could, in a spot where the clerk at the desk could see me if something happened. I’d also taken the tire iron out of my trunk, and situated it on my passenger seat just in case.
There was no way for him to sneak up on me.
Then I’d be at the pound with Wells.
Then at my house with Wells.
I’d placed an order at the grocery store for a pick-up, so I would swing by there to grab the food, then go home and cook for him.
It certainly felt like a date.
And that little tingly feeling spreading across my chest, it let me know that I wanted it to be a date.
Crazy, given the situation?
Maybe.
Or maybe not so crazy.
Wasn’t it, like, a trope in romance TV and movies that women fell for men who saved them? And, granted, he hadn’t saved me. I’d done that myself. But he’d been there for me after, helping me try to make sure that it never happened again.
“Get it together,” I grumbled to myself as I pulled the car into the lot of the pound, saying a silent prayer that the right dog was inside there somewhere. Or all those boxes that were likely sitting on my front step from the online shopping I’d done the day before would be a complete waste of money.
I parked up close to the door, kept my car on and the windows up, and waited for Wells to show.
He’d texted me when he was leaving the station, so I knew he was only a few minutes behind me, but the wait felt endless until, suddenly, he was pulling in next to me with a smile as he parked.
I walked out to join him, double-checking that I had a copy of my mortgage statement with me to prove I had a right to have a dog.
“You ready for the best decision you’ve ever made in your life?” Wells asked, reaching like he was going to put a hand to the small of my back, but not actually touching me.