Cat he might be, but Thom wasn’t as slick as he thought. “Are you asking me about Wu?”
Demon hearing left zero to the imagination. Thom already had the skinny on the deal I’d brokered with Wu. He just wanted to drag the gory details out of me.
“You deserve any happiness you can find” was his response.
The gnawing pit in my gut kept me chewing over the ramifications of dining with a guy who wouldn’t require quickdraws or rope to scale, but facts were facts. I was bad for Cole. He didn’t want me in a romantic way, I wasn’t sure if he wanted me at all, and not knowing his limits meant he was off the menu. Though crossing out his name hardly penned Wu in. Thankfully, he had spelled out dinner was more of an interview process. No code words, hurt feelings, or unmet expectations required. That alone made the prospect refreshing.
“Wu is working an angle, but I haven’t figured out what it is yet. This dinner is a ploy of some kind. The object is most likely to get in my brain, not my panties.”
Thom made a huffing noise under his breath. “Do you believe everything that male charun tell you?”
“You guys don’t exactly come with instruction manuals.” I snorted out a laugh. “I have to believe that when a guy says he doesn’t want my hands on him, he means it.” Damn it. This was not about Cole. This was about Wu. And boundaries. “For that reason, I’m willing to extend a little faith and believe when a guy says he doesn’t want to put his hands on me, he means that too.”
“You are so young,” he mused. “I forget that sometimes.”
Crossing my arms over my chest, I restrained myself from sticking out my tongue at him, but it was a near thing. “The reason I’m in a hurry to get home, if you must know, is because I want to see Dad. We finished up early. I might be able to catch the fourth quarter of the game. I wouldn’t say no to a brat hot off the grill either.”
He made a noncommittal noise.
“Do you have any plans for tonight?”
He rolled his shoulders. “I have to brief Cole and the others.”
The mention of Cole sucked the air out of the cabin, and we cruised the rest of the way to the Trudeaus’ in silence.
I saw smoke curling over the roof and cracked a window to breathe in the smells. Thom parked at the curb, and I gathered my things. “Are you sure you don’t want to come in?”
“I wouldn’t want to intrude.”
“Uncle Harold won’t interrogate you again. Yelling at the TV will keep him occupied.”
“Thank you, but no.” He shook his head. “It’s Miller’s and my turn to clean the fleet and handle scheduled maintenance.”
All those SUVs… I didn’t envy them the job.
“Tell him I said hello.” Backtracking, I amended to, “Tell everyone I said hi.”
“Enjoy your cookout.” Thom glided away from the curb and rolled down the street at a sedate speed.
After hiking my bag up on my shoulder, I let myself in the house and dashed toward the living room. Dad was asleep on the cushions, and a frayed pink blanket covered his legs. Football played on the TV, but someone had muted the game. I dropped my stuff beside the coffee table then went in search of my uncle. I found him manning the grill with a beer in one hand and tongs in another.
“I see your partner in crime didn’t make it to the fourth quarter.”
“He dropped off around the second.” Uncle Harold lifted the foil covering a pan filled with simmering beer and brats. “He started fading about two hours after you left. He lost interest in the TV before the game started, but I sat with him until I had to start dinner or go hungry.”
“He walked out of the fog once.” For those precious moments, he had been his old self. “He’ll do it again.”
“From your lips to God’s ears.” He plated a thick cut rib-eye charred to perfection, Aunt Nancy’s favorite treat. No doubt an enticement to get her to eat more. “How did the case go?”
“We wrapped up today, actually.” I took the plate to free his hands. “Looks like I get to sleep in tomorrow. And before you ask, no. Cole did not join us. It was just me, Thom, and our —” target “— suspect.”
“Any particular reason why you’re padding your résumé with odd jobs, pumpkin?” Uncle Harold did casual well, but the beer had roughened his usually smooth delivery. “Anything you need to tell us?”
“It’s not my résumé I’m padding. It’s my pockets.” The white lie burned going down, but the truth wasn’t an option. “You should see all the toys White Horse has at its disposal. I found out today they own stock in a private lab. I’ve got to say, it’s an impressive operation. It makes what we have down at the PD look like we’re coloring with crayons while they’re whipping out calligraphy sets.”
He grunted. “That’s the power of money.”
“You ever consider working for the private sector?” I repeated the question Thom had once asked me. “Better pay, better hours, better toys. It’s not a bad gig if you can get it.”
“I’m a cop, Luce. I don’t know how to be anything else.” He sounded okay with that. “Besides, I’m too old to learn new tricks. Branching out is for the young. I’m content to stay right where I am until I retire.”
Retire. Yeah, right. Pretty sure we’d be hauling his corpse out of his cruiser. “When will that be?”
“Depends on Eddie, I guess.” He took another long drink. “I’m not interested in working solo, and I don’t have the patience to train up another partner. He might decide this is it for him, and if he goes, I go too.”
Actual retirement hadn’t crossed my mind. It’s not like Dad had been in any shape to make that call.
“You make it sound so noble,” I teased, “but I know the truth. You can’t stand the idea of working every night while you know he’s out on the water spotlight fishing without you.”
“Pumpkin, you know me too well.” Uncle Harold chortled. “Do me a favor and light that bug candle? The mosquitos are eating me alive out here.”
“Sure thing.” I held out my hand. “Matches?” He dropped a box on my palm, and I crossed to the outdoor dining table. A hodgepodge of white cotton discs, chunks of candle wax, a casserole dish, and a few tiki torch refills cluttered one end along with a weathered crockpot. I had to set down the plate to dig out the candle he mentioned, and then I had to clear a space before lighting it. “What’s going on here?”
“Nancy’s cooking up some of her famous Waxy Wonders.” He grinned with pride. “The guys love them. She makes batches for the fishing club a couple times a year.”
As if hearing her name, Aunt Nancy popped her head through the sliding glass door leading into the backyard. She spotted the steak on the table and waved tinfoil at me before I could think to question him about the Waxy Wonders’ purpose. “Hurry up before it goes cold.”
Scooping up the steak, I pointed at his grill. “Do you need me to grab another plate for the brats?”
“Nah.” He lifted a dish rag to expose two more stacked in his prep area. “I got it covered.”
I hustled into the kitchen and passed over the steak. “What smells so good in here?”
“Bacon wrapped onion rings, green beans with bacon, and my signature baked beans with pork belly.”
Water flooded my mouth. “So… bacon.”
“Don’t sass me, Miss Priss.” She passed me an onion ring snug in its crispy bacon suit. “Go keep Harry company so he doesn’t burn the brats.”
“I like mine charred.” He always set a few on the grill after their beer bath for me.
“You’re the only one.” She hip-bumped me out of her way with a fraction of her usual oomph. “Oh, and your phone’s been ringing.”
I pulled my cell from my back pocket and woke the display. “I’m not showing any missed calls.”
“That’s odd. I could have sworn I heard a phone ringing over here.” She indicated my backpack. “It must be your laptop. Do you use that Internet call app?”
Oh. That explained it. Not my phone, the black phone.