The first of her tears roll down her cheeks. It’s then I realize the day will come when I’ll knock out her dad. But this girl is spilling her soul. She doesn’t need to hear that. She needs to be heard and to know someone’s listening.
“But you’re not going to be her, are you?” I say. “Because last night when you were supposed to make nice with someone else, you took a stand and spent it with me—a cop with no political aspirations, no connections, and no desire to be anything but himself.” My voice lowers. I have her attention. “You have to admit, in breaking that mold we had one hell of a time.”
She takes a moment, absorbing everything I said, although I don’t think I’ve said that much. But from the look in her eyes, I think it might be enough.
She smiles softly. “Do you know you’re the only person I’ve ever been able to be myself around?”
“Good,” I tell her. “?’Cause I like who you are. If you were anyone else, I wouldn’t have fucked you like I did.”
Her stunned face locks on to mine. On a different day, I would have grinned. But just because I can be an asshole, that doesn’t make me an ass. She’s hurting, and after all the shit she unloaded, she probably needs a moment. So I walk away, stripping out of my shirt and making a beeline for my bedroom.
“I’m going to get a quick shower,” I say. “Watch the water in the pot so it doesn’t boil over. When I get out, I’ll make you dinner.” I stop beneath the doorframe and shoot her a glance over my shoulder. “One more thing. Don’t ever think you’re not good enough for me, because you always have been.”
I cross my bedroom floor, yanking off what remains of my clothes, and walk into my bathroom. I blast the hot water, waiting for the steam to rise before stepping in.
My hands are making quick work of lathering my chest when the bathroom door opens. Through the thick wall of hot mist, I watch Tess stroll in naked, her hips swinging with every step. She opens the glass door and shows me the condom tucked between her two fingers.
“I turned the stove off,” she says. “Do you want me to wash your back, or would you prefer I take you from the front?”
Chapter 17
Curran
Declan polishes off his sausage stew. “What’s going on with you and Contessa?” he asks me. “You barely talk to her, and she keeps her distance.”
That’s because she doesn’t want you to know what’s going on between us. “Nothing. She’s a good kid.” I take the last bite of my sandwich. Damn, it’s good.
“Did you piss her off?”
“Not lately,” I say, truthfully.
“Then what’s up? Every time you’re in the same room, there’s all this goddamn tension between you.”
“Nah. It’s just your imagination.”
My phone buzzes. I have to work not to grin when I see the text from Tess.
Thanks for dinner again, cop.
Speak of the devil in argyles and corduroy. I glance at the time. Looks like she’s on break between her Torts and Civil Liability classes.
Last night, I cooked her my specialty: Velveeta Shells and Cheese smothered with sautéed mushrooms and onions, just like I did the first night she spent at my place. I tap on the keyboard. You’re welcome. If you’d like, I can make you ravioli tomorrow night.
Ravioli? Is this another secret recipe passed down from your ancestors—like your gourmet grilled cheese?
Oh, yeah, I type. It was given to me by our great uncle, the Chef of the Boyardee.
I hit send, only to catch Declan watching me. “You like her, don’t you?”
“Who?”
He rolls his eyes. “You know who. Contessa.”
“You mean Tess? Yeah. I told you, she’s a good kid.”
“That’s not what I’m saying, and you know it,” he tells me, pushing his empty bowl aside. “The problem is, you can’t have her.”
I roll my neck from side to side. “Why? Because she works with you?”
“No. To be honest, I’m willing to ignore that fact.”
“Is that so? Why the change of heart?”
“Because I think she might be good for you.”
This makes me grin. “Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah. Problem is, I don’t think you stand a chance at getting her.”