Brock’s entire face was swollen and purple. It looked as though he’d been stung by a hoard of angry bees. He nodded, silent.
“Shayla and Rylie, you can officially carry pepper spray.” He handed us each a new can, which we placed in the empty holsters on our belts. “Congratulations.”
Had I remembered pepper spray training would be the same day as my non-date with Luke, I’d probably have tried to schedule the non-date for another day. I took one last look in the mirror of the office bathroom and conceded that my eyes would remain a bright shade of red. Maybe my pitiful appearance would gain me a bit of sympathy.
“Whoa, where are you going?” Carmen asked.
I looked down at the skirt and blouse I’d traded my uniform for.
“You got a date, huh?” She smiled at me. “Is it that cute cop who was here the other day? I saw the way he was lookin’ at you.”
“Is it too much?” I smoothed my skirt down.
“Nah, girl, you look great. Well, minus those eyes.”
“Did I hear someone say something about a date?” That Italian voice came from behind me. I spun around so fast, I almost fell in my heels, but Antonio was there. He slipped his arm around my lower back to steady me.
“I’m good.” I removed myself from his grasp.
“Rylie here’s got a date with that hunky cop,” Carmen said with a giggle. “If I wasn’t married, I’d have a piece of that myself.”
Antonio looked me up and down. “The guy from last night? I thought you said you didn’t have a thing.”
“We don’t anymore. I screwed it up years ago.” I turned away. “See you guys tomorrow.”
“See ya,” Carmen called out. The door clicked into place behind me, and I let out a breath. Why did I let that man, that married man, get under my skin?
“Wait, wait,” Antonio called from behind me. I picked up speed, acting like I hadn’t heard him, but my heels slowed me down and he was next to me within seconds.
“Why don’t you like me?” He reached up and tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear.
I looked directly into his honey-brown eyes. “Because you’re married,” I said with as much exasperation as I could manage.
He put his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “Ah, didn’t know you knew that.”
“Yep, I know. And I think it’s shitty that you’d treat your wife with such disrespect.”
“My wife? Disrespect?” He let out an exasperated noise. “My wife is a horrible, terrible monster of a woman who makes my life a living hell.”
“Then get divorced.” I started walking again, but he walked right alongside me.
“Oh, get divorced. It’s that easy, is it?” He took a step closer. “If we got divorced I’d get nothing. I’d be homeless and penniless.”
So she was the breadwinner. “I’d rather be homeless and penniless than in a relationship I couldn’t stand.” I could feel the word hypocrite spreading across my forehead. If Troy, or rather giraffe girl, hadn’t kicked me out, I would have probably stayed there until the end of time.
“I’ll let you get on with your date.”
“Thanks.” I turned and walked away as quickly as I could, my heart pounding in my chest like a bass drum.
My emotions regarding Antonio hovered somewhere between extreme irritation and empathy. I knew how it felt to have a terrible significant other, to feel like you couldn’t leave without starting over. But that didn’t mean he had any right to hit on me. By the time I reached the burger joint, I was ready to jump out of my skin.
How dare Antonio ruin this non-date for me? Especially after he screwed everything up last night.
No, I wouldn’t let him. I squared my shoulders and walked inside with a big smile.
The smile drooped when I saw the scowl on Luke’s face. I waved half-heartedly and walked over with as much grace as I could muster. At least he hadn’t stood me up.
“Sorry about my face.” I sat down in the chair across from him.
“Pepper spray training, I suppose?” His voice was bored, unconcerned.
Of course he’d know.
“And I’m sorry about last night, it’s not what you—”
He held up a hand. “Don’t. It’s none of my business. We’re here to talk about the case, so let’s stick to that, okay?”
Damn, he was sexy when he was mad.
The burger joint consisted of a whopping six tables—five of which were empty—and a grill in the back. It smelled heavenly, like grease and fat and meat, and it reminded me of the firehouse. A pang of sadness punched me in the gut. It seemed like an eternity since I’d fired up the grill for the weekly Saturday afternoon BBQ . . . since I’d had any control over my life. And how could I even think about dating someone as wonderful as Luke when my life was in such shambles? It wouldn’t be fair to either of us.
We sat in silence studying the grease-splotched menus before the waitress came to take our order: a dumpster fire burger and sweet potato fries for me, and a moo moo burger and curly fries for Luke.
“Good to see you still have your appetite,” Luke said with a hint of a smile.
“How’s the case coming?” I asked, trying to stay on topic. “Any new developments?”
“We interviewed the wife today,” Luke said. “She’s strange, but I don’t think she did it.”
If I had to guess, she’d be exactly the person who could have done it, but again, he was the detective.
“Did she have an alibi?”
“She said she was at home the entire afternoon. She thought Ronnie was there too since she made him go home, but when she went out to their garage he was gone.”
“Is there someone who can corroborate her story?”
“Corroborate?” The corner of Luke’s mouth twitched like it always had when I’d say something amusing. “Big word, ten points.”
So he remembered our point game.
