She laughed. “Okay.”
I walked down the bench to the mini-fridge and took out another beer. “Want one?”
“Yes, please.”
I opened the bottle and handed it over. Tipping the amber glass to her lips, she took a long swallow. The way her sexy throat moved as she drank wasn’t doing anything to help the problem in my jeans.
She set down her beer and let her eyes wander over the tool bench. They lingered on my gun and badge a few feet away. “Can I, um . . .” She pointed to my gun.
I set down my beer and picked up the Glock, sliding it out of the holster. “Sure. The safety is on and I unloaded it when I got here.”
She held it carefully in her palm. “I don’t know much about handguns. I’ve only ever used a rifle when I did hunter’s safety as a kid. It’s heavy.” Slowly, she wrapped the grip with both hands. “Do you hold it like this?”
I shook my head and repositioned her hands so that one was around the grip and the other under the base to support its weight. “Like that. This gun would be way too big for you without a lot of practice. It’s got a hell of a recoil and it’s made for larger hands. Most of the female officers I know carry a smaller version of this.”
This one would probably send her arms over her head and rock her back a foot or two.
Kind of like how the killer took the recoil in the liquor store shooting.
What the fuck? My mind started to race. How had I not thought of this? How had any of us not thought of this? What if Jamie’s killer was a woman?
I ran a hand over my face as things dawned in a new light. Simmons hadn’t royally fucked up this murder case. He’d just looked at it from the most obvious angle. He’d been searching for a man.
We’d all been searching for a man.
“Cole?”
I blinked and focused back on Poppy. “Sorry. I was just thinking of something.” I took the gun from her hands and put it away.
“Is everything okay?” she asked, her eyebrows furrowed.
I smiled and lied. “Yeah. It’s great. Do you want to hang out with me while I work on the truck before dinner, or do you want to go inside and chat with Mom?”
“I’m good right here.”
She was. She was perfect right here.
And she’d be even better if I could find Jamie’s killer.
“I’m melting.” Molly fanned her face.
“Me too. I just hope the cab has air conditioning.”
It was three days after I’d gotten my tattoo and admitted my feelings to Cole, and Molly and I were standing outside the restaurant. Sweat beaded on my temples as we stared down the street, hoping to see a sedan with its taxi light on.
“Oooh!” Molly stood on her tiptoes and looked down the street. “Here it comes. Okay, I’m going.”
With a huge smile, she jogged around her SUV, getting in and pulling onto the street the second the cab turned into the parking lot.
Okay, Jamie. Here goes.
I took a deep breath, then hustled into the backseat of the cab, throwing open the door and diving inside.
“Follow that car!” I shouted to the driver, pointing toward Molly’s Explorer.
“What?” The cabbie looked over his shoulder.
“Follow that car!” I wagged my finger and gave him my get going, buddy eyes.
“Look, lady—”
“Just go! Please!”
He frowned but hit the gas, jerking the cab into traffic and zooming up on Molly.
“She could at least go a little faster,” I muttered.
“What was that?” the driver asked into the rearview mirror.
“Nothing. Just please, follow that car.”
And he did. He followed Molly around the block and right back to the parking lot of the restaurant.
“Thank you, sir.”
“What? That’s it?”
I nodded and reached into my pocket for a twenty. “That’s it. Thank you.”
Handing him the cash, I got out of the cab and walked back inside the restaurant, where Molly was waiting.
“So?” she asked. “How was it?”
“My one-minute cab ride? Expensive.”
She laughed. “Well, at least that one was easy. Now you can cross it off the list.”
Through the windows, I kept my eyes on the cab as he pulled back onto the street. “Jamie would have thought that was hysterical. He probably would have videoed the entire thing to post on Facebook.”
“And he probably would have dressed up in a suit or something, pretending to be a secret agent.”
I nodded. “Yep. He would have mapped out this entire route for me to drive so he could follow me all over town and end up at this sketchy place. He would have planned this epic chase.”
“I think you’re right.”
Molly and I shared a sad smile. Our little adventure had been tame compared to what my husband would have planned, but I was still glad that we’d done it together.
“Okay. Back to work.” She turned and walked toward the counter.
“Yes, boss.” I’d taken three steps away from the door when it opened behind us. I glanced over my shoulder and stopped when I saw Cole.
“Hi.” My smile got bigger as my breath hitched.
It felt freeing to enjoy the hitch. To enjoy the acceleration of my heartbeat and the jitters I got when he was near. Because now that I’d laid it out there—now that I’d admitted to Cole my feelings—I’d given myself permission to enjoy it all.
What I’d told him was true. I’d thought a lot about him in the weeks after my trip to Kyle and Debbie’s ranch. And though a part of me had thought life would be easier if I just cut him out, I couldn’t do it.
During those two weeks, I’d found myself typing texts that I’d never sent. I’d made him special dinners that he’d never come to eat. And I’d realized life was too short to miss out on something . . . anything.
Because that
