Much as he was happy that his new sister-in-law had gotten out of her dead-end job as an under-appreciated waitress at the Darby Diner, the weekday lunchtime gal who’d taken Maggie’s place had proven to be a good deal more interested in her iPhone than her customers.
Jill set her empty iced tea glass aside and reached for his Coke, taking a long sip before digging back into her sandwich. “How come you’re not more mad about this?” she asked.
“It’s diner food, Henley. Our bill’s not going to be more than twenty dollars.”
She rolled her eyes. “Not about the diner. About the case.”
He reached across the table to take her fry. It was every bit as cold and soggy as his.
“I am upset,” he muttered. “I just don’t know what ranting about it’s going to do.”
“You rant all the time.”
“Exactly,” he said. “Usually I rant and you sprinkle glitter on everything. But since you’re ranting on this one, I figure it’s time for a role reversal.”
“Oh, got it,” she said. “So if I’m the grumpy one today, and you’re going to take on the positive one”—she glanced around dramatically—“I see no glitter. Or even a smile.”
He forced his mouth into a farce of a smile, which coaxed a giggle from her.
Her giggle then coaxed an actual smile from him, and before he knew what was happening, they were staring across the table grinning at each other.
It had been like that in the week since they’d started sleeping together.
One minute they were their usual old bickering selves, and the next minute, it was, well… happy.
Vincent’s smile slipped a bit as the thought that had been quietly nagging him for days crept up once again.
What if this thing between him and Jill was part of the reason they hadn’t solved the case.
Technically, they separated their personal and professional life.
He didn’t cop a feel when they were on the job, much as he wanted to. They didn’t kiss in between coffee breaks, didn’t talk about them while they were on duty.
But if he was honest—really brutally honest—his head hadn’t been in the game since Jill had returned from Florida with that damn ring on her finger.
And now that the ring was off her finger—
Well let’s just say it was even harder to concentrate on the job when half the time he wanted nothing more than to toss her in the backseat and screw like teenagers.
He blew out a breath as he faced the truth looming in the back of his mind.
What if Lenora Birch’s killer was going to go free because Vincent had spent the past two months thinking with his dick instead of his brain?
“Uh-oh,” Jill said, pushing her plate away and crossing both arms on the table. “I know that look. What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” he muttered.
“No, we don’t get to do nothing,” she said. “Not as partners, not as lovers.”
He glanced around. “Jesus, keep your voice down.”
She lifted her eyebrow. “First of all, there are only six customers in here right now. None are in hearing range. Second of all, why so jumpy?”
He pulled his wallet out of his pocket. “Are you done?”
“No, I want more iced tea.”
“We don’t have time for Joyce to get back from her smoke break.”
“Really?” Jill crossed her arms. “We don’t have time? Where exactly are we running off to? Last I checked, we don’t have a case—”
“Because we fucked up,” he said, standing and heading toward the door.
Jill caught up with him when they were outside, grabbing his arm and pulling him around. “Why do I feel like that was a loaded statement?”
He ran his hand through his hair. “We lost this case, Jill—we let a killer go free because we couldn’t find the clues.”
“It happens, Vin. I don’t like it any more than you do. I’m beating myself up too, but it had to happen to us sooner or later—”
“And isn’t it interesting that we got dropped from the case the very week we started screwing.”
His words were harsh. He didn’t mean them to be, they just slipped out.
She said nothing, and he reached out a hand, relieved when she didn’t step back.
If anything she looked… amused?
Jill’s lips twitched a little as she took a step closer. “Is that what this is about? You’re actually doing that cliché guy thing where you think your brain didn’t solve the case because it was sex-addled?”
“Maybe,” he muttered.
Jill smiled softly, her fingers briefly touching the tips of his before he let his hand drop. Before someone saw them.
“It’s not like that, Vin. Whatever was going on with us didn’t change the fact that the killer hasn’t left us a single clue.”
“Or we missed something,” he said as they walked to the car and climbed in.
“Or that,” she said. “But we have to let it go. Not only for our sanity, but because it’s an order. Another case will come up tomorrow, or the next, and—”
Both of their phones buzzed just as the police radio crackled.
Five minutes later, Jill and Vincent looked at each other and grinned.
“Well, whadya know, Henley—looks like we just got ourselves another case.”
She clicked her seat belt into the buckle. “We do indeed. Maybe your famous instinct will actually work on this one.”
“Maybe. Assuming I’m not distracted by a cute blonde with a mouth like a—”