I froze, my smile gone, as Peter threaded a strong arm around me. “I was really worried about you.” He rubbed my shoulder. “I’m impressed you’re handling this so well.”
Was I? I scoffed. “I mean… I did pass out.”
He chuckled, a deep sound. “It’s understandable.”
I kept very still in case a movement would cause that arm around me to disappear. No one had touched me like this in a very long time.
We stayed that way for a bit, the other officers taking samples and pictures with old-fashioned cameras—the flashes blinding. The longer the silence stretched on, the more a nagging unease grew in the center of my chest.
Finally, I shifted in my seat, unable to hold it in any longer. “Peter?”
“Yeah.”
I bit my lip and stared down at my knees—one very close to touching his. “Millie said she was going to kill me and make it look like I’d taken the money and run to avoid paying my back rent.” The words spilled out of me in a torrent. “If I’d just gone missing… would you have believed that?”
“Hmm.”
I dared a glance up at Peter. His brow furrowed as he thought it over.
“No.”
An odd relief flooded through me. Odd, because why did I care so much what he thought of me?
Something glinted in his eye. “No, you would’ve tried to squeeze some more gold out of me, or at least a tip, before you took off.”
I gasped, then slugged his side.
“Ow!” He pulled his arm from around my shoulders and rubbed his ribs.
The other officers paused and turned to look our way. Peter waved them off, and they went back to business, though a few kept one eye on me.
I bit my lip and looked at the spot I’d punched him. “Sorry.”
He immediately dropped his hand from rubbing the sore spot and chuckled. “Just kidding, it’s fine. You need to learn how to punch.”
“Can I practice on you?” I flashed my eyes at him.
He leaned back in his chair and chuckled again. “Jolene, from what I know of you, you act like you don’t care but….” He shrugged and looked over at me, a twinkle in his eye. “I can tell that doing the right thing is important to you. That there are people and principles you care about.”
He lifted a broad palm. “I mean, if you didn’t care enough to figure out the truth, the wrong man would be going to prison and a killer would be running free.” He shrugged again. “You helped me save Daisy when you didn’t have to, and it put you at risk. Jolene—you’re a good person. I wouldn’t have thought that of you.”
I raised a brow and looked to Daisy, who stood beside him, her tail wagging. She didn’t react, which meant… Peter had been telling the truth. He really thought I was a good person. A warm flush spread across my chest, and I dropped my eyes to my lap.
I picked at my fingertips. I had to give Daisy this much—there was something a little nice about this man who didn’t lie. She’d been right about that.
37
PERKS
“Ugh.” Will made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat and swept my crossed ankles off his exam table.
My heels dropped to the floor. “Hey!” Even as I protested, I grinned and adjusted in my chair.
My giant bear of a friend rolled his eyes. “Now I’m going to have to resanitize that. You happy, Jolene? You happy?”
I squinted and lifted my face to him, flashing him my biggest smile. “Moderately.”
He stood at the counter, his back to me, finishing some paperwork stacked up on a clipboard. He frowned at me over his shoulder. “What’s wrong with you?”
I rolled my eyes and chuckled. “Oh. So a girl can’t be moderately pleased with her life?”
The crease between his brows deepened as he spun around to face me, the clipboard between his enormous hands. His quill hovered just above the page. “A girl can be—you, though?” He shook his head, a slight curl to his lip.
I stuck one leg out straight toward him and turned my ankle left and right. “Notice anything different about me?”
He glanced down at my foot, then back up at me. “Are you high? Have you been huffing potions out of the supply closet?” He lifted his chin and shouted to his assistant, who sat up front at the receptionist’s desk. “Heidi! Did you forget to lock up the potions again?”
I shot him a flat look. “Ahem. My boots?”
“Yes?” He lifted a brow and shot me an insolent look. Then, as if unable to help himself, his eyes darted back down to my feet and the new black leather shoes I sported. “Oh.” He dropped to a crouch and ran a finger along the smooth, supple leather of my ankle-high Chelsea boots. He grabbed my ankle and turned it to look at the wood block heel.
He jutted out his bottom jaw. “Are these…?”
“Melisinthe Lunas?” I waggled my brows in confirmation. “You know it.”
He frowned deeper and peered at the shoes. “If you got these from that stall down Dubloon Alley, they’re knockoffs.”
I shook my head and crossed my arms over my chest, feeling quite self-satisfied. “Duh. No, I got them from that secondhand shop behind the place with all the birds?” I grinned. “Used, but real.”
“Huh.” Will stood, but his eyes kept darting down to my boots, an envious flare to his nostrils.
I grinned, pleased to have finally gotten the reaction from him I’d been hoping for.
“Not bad, right?”
Will lifted a thick, light brown brow, his gaze focused on the paperwork again. “You get these with your cop money?”
I nodded, appreciating the slightly tapered toe of the boots. “I got a little bonus for going beyond the call of duty and catching the real murderer.” I shrugged. “I decided to buy myself something nice.”
I’d spent the last five years wearing out the same once-nice pair of boots
