I lifted a brow. “I mean, I appreciate that but… I kind of bared my soul a bit and then didn’t hear from you for a couple of weeks. I was starting to wonder if you were second-guessing our…” Our what? Friendship? Working relationship? Or did he share my hopes that it’d be more?
He bit back a smile. “Exactly.”
I stepped back. “You were?”
He pulled me closer again, and I grinned, surprised at the confidence and force in the move. “Jolene. I’m a police officer.” He raised his brows as if willing me to understand something.
“I know….” I clearly didn’t quite get what he was trying to say.
He heaved a great sigh and spoke quickly. “I’m an officer and we work together—you rely on me to be included on cases, to at least in part earn your living. I would never want you to feel pressured, or like I was abusing my authority, but…” He dropped his eyes. “But I kind of felt like the other night might have been something more than just coworkers dancing in the rain, sharing deep truths.”
My throat grew tight, and I pressed my lips together. I couldn’t explain the tears that rushed to my eyes. I felt full to bursting with a mix of emotions I couldn’t name—but they were good ones. Ones I hadn’t felt in a very long time—maybe ever.
His eyes flitted up and met mine. “Was I wrong?”
My grin spread across my face and split into a huge smile I couldn’t fight anymore. “No. You weren’t wrong.”
He nodded, beaming. “Okay.” He chuckled and squeezed my hands. “Okay. Good. I just— I wanted to be careful.” He leveled me an earnest look. “You—this—” He gestured between us, our hands still clasped. “—are important to me.”
I beamed up at him. “Right back at you.”
He grinned and pulled me closer. I lifted my face to his, the string of golden lights glowing behind him, tiny beads of mist clinging to his hair. Our chests pressed together, he lowered his face, our lips parted and—
“Bark! Bark! Bark!” Did you forget I was here? What is this? Stop mauling my Peter with your face!
Peter and I jumped apart as the dog wormed her way between us. I shot Daisy a wide-eyed look.
Yes—yes, I had forgotten about her for one blissful moment. For the love of crab, this dog was going to be the death of me! I pressed a hand to my racing heart, and Peter dragged his hands through his hair, pink spots burning on his cheeks.
“Actually… this brings me to what I wanted to ask you.”
I raised a brow.
He grinned. “Do you think you could translate for me and Daisy? So we can talk to each other?”
18
PETER'S PLACE
“Home, sweet home.” Peter held the door for me and stood aside as I followed Daisy into his apartment. I grinned as I looked around. It suited Peter.
He lived on the fifth tier of Bijou Mer in a solidly lower middle-class neighborhood. He’d greeted several of his neighbors on the way up to the third floor and had pointed out a park just down the street where he liked to take Daisy.
His dog trotted right over to her water dish and gulped some down. I grinned. Beside it, her matching silver food dish had her name on it, as did the soft-looking bed next to the couch. There was even a chest, painted to read Daisy, overflowing with chew toys and balls.
It was a modest place, the furniture hardly new, but comfy and well loved. Daisy was clearly spoiled. I smiled at Peter. He knew how to treat a lady.
“I know it’s not much but,” he scooted past me to the kitchen, “make yourself at home. Can I get you a cider?”
I nodded. “Yes, please.”
I moved to the window with its metal fire escape. “This is nice.” The twinkling lights of Bijou Mer stretched out below us, and I could even spot a tiny shimmering sliver of the sea. I winked at him. “Ocean view.”
He chuckled. “Barely. But I like it.”
I gratefully took the bottle of brew he offered me and clinked it against his. “I do, too.”
His cheeks and neck flushed pink.
Daisy finished drinking and slunk up to Peter’s side. She clearly felt as odd having me in her space as I felt being in it. It’s not like I hadn’t imagined coming back to Peter’s with him—it’s just that it’d never occurred to me that Daisy would be here, too. Or that the reason would be to act as translator.
I sighed. At least this would be easier than the favor Ludolf had asked of me. I shrugged. “Well… shall we?”
Peter nodded. “Let’s get comfy.”
I sat down on the worn leather couch beside Peter, and Daisy sat herself down between his knees, glaring at me. She grunted. Why are you here? You haven’t come here before.
Peter looked at me, an eager glint to his eye. “What’d she say?”
I nodded. “She says I’m so generous to offer my talents to help her.”
She growled and Peter took her by the shoulders. “Hey, girl, no. We don’t growl at guests.” He shook his head. “Sorry… but… is that really what she said?”
I took a swig of cider and sighed. “No. She’s wondering why I’m here.”
The dog narrowed her dark eyes at me.
“So…” I raised my brows at Peter. “What do you want to say?”
Peter’s throat bobbed and he scooted forward, closer to his dog. “What—what’s her favorite food? Or treats—which treats does she like best?”
I opened my mouth to ask but Peter just kept gushing. “I want to know if she’s happy and if anything hurts and who she thinks is guilty at the museum and I want to tell her I love her—so much.”
He held the dog’s head in his hands and they gazed at each other, the tip of Daisy’s bushy tail wagging. He glanced over at me and I chuckled. “Is that
