What? “You plan on cheating on Matthew?”
“What? No! Every couple has a list. Ask your man. Bet he has one. Oh, and don't forget your prime rib dinners. They are in the cooler with a bottle of wine.”
“Thank you, and I've never heard of this magical list. I think that may be a Roger and Matt thing.”
“No honey, that's an everybody thing. You've led a sheltered life.” They moved from the office and she turned off the light as they left.
She squared her shoulders and retorted with all the conviction of a three-year-old throwing a tantrum, “I have not.” She stuffed the deposit into her purse and slung the strap over her shoulder.
“Mmm-hmm.” Roger opened the cooler and produced two takeout boxes and a bottle of wine. He shoved the wine in her purse on top of the deposit and nodded to the door. He grabbed the containers. “I'll take these for you.”
“Thanks, you go first and I'll set the alarm.” He opened the door, and she keyed the alarm, quickly ducking out and shutting the door behind them. She locked all three of the locks on the door and followed him down the stairs.
“Brie, you have a flat.”
“What?” She stepped next to him and groaned. “I don't have a spare.” She was supposed to get one... almost two years ago after a massive pothole on Millers Road devo'd her tire. “Damn it.” She walked forward and bent down to look at the– “Aw man, who would do that?”
“What?” Roger leaned down. “Girl, someone sliced your tire!”
“It looks that way.” The gash ran from the top of the tire down the sidewall.
“Come on, I'll drive you to the bank and then drop you off at Mr. Sexy Voice's house. You can call someone in the morning.”
She stood up and sighed. “Thank you, but I can call an Uber.”
“No, I insist. Matt won't be home for at least another hour. He closes the club tonight.” He opened his car and put the prime rib in the back seat. “Come on.”
She gave one more look at the flat tire before she sighed. “If you're sure.”
“Positive. Now, let's get going.”
Ryker leaned from his favorite position on the couch and stared through the picture window at a car that coasted to a stop in front of the house. Brie got out of the passenger seat, juggling two takeout containers and her purse. She laughed and waved at the driver. He opened the front door and watched her come up the walk. The driver waited until she made it to the door before they left.
He took the boxes from her. “Was that your chef? What happened to your SUV?”
“Yep, that was Roger. Oh, I should have introduced you, shouldn't I? Sorry, I didn't think to do that.”
“No worries. What happened to your vehicle?”
“Oh. A tire that died, or rather, was murdered. Whatever happened, it is flat as a pancake.” She groaned and dropped her purse on the small couch in the living room. “Hungry?” She kissed him quickly and headed into the kitchen with the wine.
He followed her and sat down the takeout containers. “Absolutely. Did you pick up a nail or something?”
She snorted. “Or something. Will you open that for us? I've had a weird day.”
He opened the drawer with the wine opener and uncorked the bottle.
“Weird how?”
“Wow, okay. So, it starts with my mom, ends with a flat tire, and it is too much to get into without wine. Give me a minute to get these dinners warmed up and I'll tell you all about it while we eat prime rib.”
He stepped to her and brought her into an embrace. “How about saying a proper hello to your man first?”
“Oh, I like proper—and not so proper, too.” She leaned in and kissed his chin. “I needed this.”
He lowered his mouth to hers and devoured her lips, lifting only when breathing became a necessity. “Hello.” He smiled down at her. She was beautiful. All that wavy dark hair, curves that would make any pin-up model green with envy, and the absolute biggest heart on the planet.
“Hi. You know, just being in your arms makes the day better.” She cocked her head. “When you called, you said you were having a bad morning. Did it get better?”
He rolled his eyes. “I think we should pour that wine.”
“Oh, dear. That bad? Let me guess, it had something to do with Fenton.” She took down the only two wine glasses he owned. They didn’t match but did the trick.
He poured her half a glass and then did the same for himself. “Oh, yeah. He was in rare form. Came down to the office to threaten me and indirectly the team. That man wants me gone so badly I think he'd go through the damn good cops I have working for me to get to me.”
Brianna leaned against the counter and arched an eyebrow, her wine glass stilled halfway to her mouth. He pointed to her. “Absolutely not. We've had this conversation.”
“But why?” She put her glass on the counter. “He needs to know what this guy is doing.”
“I've been up-channeling everything relevant to the Deputy Commissioner.”
“Mavis or Lloyd?”
He laughed. “You mean Deputy Commissioner Duckworth or Deputy Commissioner Farrington?”
She snorted and picked up the takeout. “Yeah, sure. Potato-Potahto.”
“Not all of us are on a first-name basis with the hierarchy of the Hope City Police Department.” He watched her place the food onto separate plates.
“Don't think I didn't notice you didn't answer.” She pointed at him with a fork and then turned to set the timer on his microwave.
“Fine. Mavis.”
“Good, she's hell on wheels, according to Dad. Speaking of my dad...”
“Part of the conversation you had with your mother?” He chuckled when she dropped her head.
“I promised her when we have lunch next week that we could schedule a time for you to meet my family.” She glanced up at the ceiling. “The
