She blew into the oversized mug. She’d managed to make a pot of coffee without blowing anything up. She had horrible luck with appliances. Back in the day, she’d broken so many of Jag’s gadgets that he banned her from his kitchen.
“Good morning, sunshine.”
She jumped, sloshing her coffee all down the front of her white pajama shirt. “Mother trucker.”
“Yeah. That’s not coming out.”
“Probably not, so let’s be glad I stole this shirt from you.”
He raced inside and quickly returned with a small towel, pressing it against her chest.
She held the half-empty cup to the side and glared at him. “Really? Are you done feeling me up?”
“They’re a little bigger than they used to be.”
Snagging the towel, she twirled it and whipped it at his shoulder. “Asshole.”
“Ouch, that hurt.”
“Good,” she muttered, wishing that she didn’t enjoy the banter. Their relationship had always been one of yin and yang. Tit for tat. Their world views were identical, but how they approached everything couldn’t be more opposite. It made for some pretty intense conversations that turned into passionate lovemaking sessions.
“Guess who managed to get my cell,” she said.
He laughed. “Oh, let me take a wild stab at that one.” He tapped his foot and raised his hand, flicking his index finger against his temple. “The pope?”
“Haha, funny guy.”
He laughed. “I take it you mean Bailey. Did you answer? Respond?”
She shook her head. “She left a message last night at nine thirty, asking me to call her first thing. She wants to meet me for an informal late lunch or early cocktail to discuss the possibility of doing a sit-down interview in the studio about the book.”
“Are you going to meet her?”
Callie took the last sip of coffee and set the mug on the railing. She folded her arms across her chest. The wet shirt clung to her skin, sending a slight shiver across her body. The temperature was in the seventies, which was unseasonably warm for May in Seattle, but she’d enjoy every second of it. In a few hours, things might be gray, misty, and cold, like usual. “I’m planning on it, but I have no intention of doing an on-camera interview. Not now anyway, and not with her.”
“If you did do one, who would it be with?”
“Jackie from Channel 8,” she said without hesitation. In all of Callie’s career, her biggest competition for ratings had been Jackie Cash.
“Wow. She used to drive you crazy.”
“Only when she got the story before I did,” Callie admitted. “Those days are over, but Bailey is a backstabbing bitch and with how she handled the coverage of my sister’s murder and our breakup by putting them up on her social media to use as her first big break into reporting, well, I don’t want to give her shit. Jackie and I were always professional with each other.”
“Yeah, Jackie’s not so bad.” He laughed, shaking his head. “I took her out a few months ago.”
“I never needed to know that,” Callie said.
“Then maybe you don’t want to know I also took out Bailey.”
“Gross.” She held her stomach. “Why would you do that? Jackie I can maybe understand. But Bailey?”
“Yeah. She was a mistake. Rebound to get over you. But Jackie was different.”
“I don’t want to hear this.”
“Are you jealous?” He winked.
“Maybe a little, but only because they are both in the same profession, and before you and I hooked up, you used to say, and I quote, ‘Reporters and journalists are the devil. Wait. Nope. They are worse. They are the armpit of the earth.’”
He burst out laughing. “I did say that. And if it makes you feel any better, the date with Jackie didn’t even get off the ground. We ordered drinks and an appetizer, and before we ordered a meal she was like, you’re a jerk.”
“What did you do? Make some sexist joke?” She shook her head. “I’ve never understood why you do that when you’re really the furthest thing from a misogynistic pig.”
“Actually, I was a perfect gentleman. The problem was I couldn’t stop talking about you. I guess I wasn’t ready to start dating again.”
“Are you dating now?” she asked.
He shook his head. “No. You?”
“I don’t have the time with a deadline looming. Speaking of which, I need to know if—”
“You will never get an interview from me for that book, just so we’re clear on that.”
She figured as much, but she realized that since she’d been back in town, she’d never done the one thing he deserved most. “You’ve been really kind to me since I returned.”
“I don’t know about that. Had you not been threatened, I’m not sure I would have given you the time of day.”
“I’m sorry.” Tentatively, she took a few tiny steps forward. “I said a lot of hurtful things to you at my sister’s crime scene and again at home. And what I did to you on national television, well, it was just uncalled for, and if I could go back in time, I’d do that all differently.”
“But you’d still give me my ring back.”
She reached out and cupped his cheek with her palm. “Considering everything, it was for the best.”
He curled his fingers around her wrist. “I appreciate the apology.”
“I had to blame someone that I could see, feel, and touch. The Trinket Killer was either dead or nowhere to be found. You were standing right in front of me. You had lied to me, and I didn’t feel like I could trust you.”
“We lied to each other, and for the record, I had to. I couldn’t tell you those things we were keeping from the public and the press. I was on thin ice as it was because you always seemed to be one step ahead of all the other reporters.” He pulled her to his chest. “And let’s not forget you hacked into my computer and read reports you shouldn’t have. That’s criminal, and I could have—”
“I know. And I’m sorry. I wish I
