“Whiskey, neat.” Peter’s throat bobbed. “Make it a double. And a bowl of water for my dog. And—” He gave me a wan smile. “And whatever the lady is having.”
I leaned toward the mustached guy in suspenders. “Sea salt sour.”
The bartender nodded and moved off to make our drinks. My order got a grin out of Peter.
“Sea salt sour, huh?” He chuckled.
I planted a hand on my hip. “You have something to say about that?”
He shrugged. “I just would’ve expected something a little more… hard-core.”
I nodded to myself, grinning. “Normally, you’d probably be right. But sometimes a lady wants something a little more”—I held up my pinky finger—“refined.”
His grin gradually faded as he continued to stare at me, his eyes growing more focused.
I frowned. “What?” Seriously. Did I have something in my teeth?
He shook himself and cleared his throat. “Uh—nothing.” His face turned bright red.
I bit my lip and made a mental note to thank Heidi again for scrounging up this dress—I’d made an impression.
I glanced back over my shoulder, past the dense crowd of masked attendees, to the banner of the Officer of the Year. That had been a weird reaction—especially for Peter, who was generally so upbeat and positive. Was he… jealous?
I slid closer to him so that our forearms nearly touched. “So… Officer Davies. What’s his deal? What’d he do to win Officer of the Year?” I grinned. “Did he save a kitten from a kraken or something?”
Peter snorted but kept his eyes down on his laced fingers. “He, uh—he was voted Officer of the Year by his peers.”
“Oh.” I nodded. “Didn’t realize the award was a popularity contest.” I lowered my voice and leaned closer, a conspiratorial tone to my voice. “Did you vote for him? I promise not to tell anyone.”
I’d meant it to be teasing, but a muscle in his jaw jumped.
“No. In fact, I didn’t.”
“Oh.” I drummed my fingers on the wooden bartop. “Interesting…. Don’t mean to pry, but… why not?”
Peter’s nostrils flared, and he stared straight ahead at the shelves of glowing potion bottles, though I doubted he was seeing any of them. “It’s—he’s just—” He hiked his shoulders up. “I don’t want to speak ill of another officer but—”
“Chug chug chug!”
We both whipped our heads to the right and looked down the length of the bar. Two cops who looked to be in their midforties with buzzcuts that matched Davies’s pounded the bar with their fists, chanting. A third officer, thinner, with square glasses and a prominent Adam’s apple, stood between them. The younger guy held a shot of something that glowed green and just happened to also be on fire.
I raised a brow. “That’s not going to go down well.”
A deep growl sounded beside me, and I turned my head, already indignant at being called out by Daisy. “It’s true, though!”
Instead, it was Peter who scowled in their direction, lip curled.
Whoa. Hadn’t seen this side of Officer Flint before.
He gripped the edge of the bar, knuckles splotchy. “Davies is just like those guys over there. The kind of cop who’ll pick on someone just because they’re new, or different, or willing to speak up and out against dishonesty.”
“Uh.” I held still, blinking, as Peter’s face grew redder.
“Excuse me a moment.”
Without waiting for a response, he pushed back, eyes on the chanters, and disappeared into the crowd. I watched him for a moment before turning back to face the spot where he’d just been standing. Daisy, who’d been sitting under the bar, stood and stared off after Peter, her bushy tail drooped and ears flattened.
She let out a whine. Peter? Where’d he go? He forgot me. Peter?
Oh, snakes. If I didn’t know what a pill she was normally, I might feel sorry for how pathetic this was.
I cleared my throat, and Daisy swung her dark eyes toward me. I let out a few woofs, confident that the noise of the crowd and band would keep anyone nearby from overhearing.
So… what the shell was that all about?
Daisy glanced toward where Peter had disappeared into the crowd one more time, then swung around to face the bar and lowered down on her haunches. She barked, the noise nearly drowned in all the hubbub.
Peter should have won Officer of the Year, if you ask me.
I rolled my eyes and whined. Yes, Daisy, we all know what a lick butt— I mean, how loyal you are.
She bared her teeth at me.
I snuffled and whined again. Does that mean Peter’s feeling jealous?
The dog snorted and her pointy ears pricked. Of Davies? Hardly. Peter’s just disappointed the award didn’t go to someone more deserving.
I turned to face her, leaning my elbow against the bar. “Woof!” And what makes Davies so undeserving?
Daisy’s ears flattened and she growled. He’s so immature. And, he lies—all the time! Always reeking of untruths. The dog huffed. It’d be like you winning consultant of the year.
I shot her a flat look, then perked up and sniffed. Wait. Is that a thing? I grinned. I nominate myself.
Daisy’s lips parted in a grin, and her tail swished across the floor, scattering tawny hairs behind it. Yes, and that’d be your one and only vote.
I cocked my head and huffed. Good one, flea bag.
The German shepherd snorted. Back at you, hairless skin sack.
I grimaced. Wow. Taking it a little far now, aren’t we?
A commotion sounded to my right and interrupted my superproductive talk with Daisy. I spun around and found Peter standing between the guy with the flaming shot and the other two officers.
I leaned forward and watched Peter’s mouth intently, trying to read his lips. I could just barely hear.
“I said, back off.” He shot the other two a challenging look.
The two buzzcuts gripped each other’s shoulders and shot Peter dark looks, though they kept grins on their faces. “Lighten up, Flint.”
But Peter stood his ground, glaring at them.
One of the guys grabbed Peter’s shoulder, and he shrugged it off.
The kid in the glasses winced, red spots burning on his cheeks. “Thanks, Officer Flint, but
