I wrapped my fingers around the handle and pulled the door open a crack.
The younger detective—J.M.!—stood on my porch facing sideways and with his hands in his pockets. He’d lost the confidence and ego from earlier. In fact, he looked a little hunched over, as if bowed by uncertainty.
“The denial stage is over, huh?” I asked as I opened the door wider. I crossed my arms over my chest. “That was fast.”
Shock smacked into his expression the moment he turned my way. His gaze dipped to my robe and his jaw went slack.
I did a quick check to make sure nothing had popped out. Nope, all was right. Granted, the robe was a silky number that Marie had bought me, along with a bunch of other uncomfortable-looking clothes I had no desire to wear, but I was thoroughly dry when I put it on, and the garment left nothing exposed from my neck down to past my knee. Since I also currently lacked eyebrows and my hair, unbrushed, was pulled up into a bun, there was nothing hot about the situation other than the beholder’s imagination.
Annnnnd that just solved the riddle.
“Sean explained what my department really does?” I asked him, pushing the door a little further closed and half hiding behind it. There was no reason to give him any ideas.
“Yes. I didn’t believe you guys. It sounded crazy.” He scrubbed his fingers through his hair and tore his gaze away. He turned sideways again, staring vaguely into the distance. “Crazy.”
“If you weren’t born into it, how would you know?”
“You were born into it?” His gaze was imploring.
“Yes.”
He nodded and looked away again. “I saw all three bodies. I saw the pile of ash in the French Quarter. I saw a man change from a wolf into a human—”
“You did?” I shifted, bracing a hand on my hip. “How’d that come about?”
“A wolf into a human, Reagan,” he said, his eyes haunted. “What the hell?”
“Yes. It can take a second to get used to it.”
He exhaled noisily and shook his head. “The wolf-turned-human said he followed that aswang as best he could, but he wasn’t able to get his crew there in time to help. Plus, you guys were already on scene. But he wanted to extend his offer to help in the future should we need anything.”
“No, he did not!” My nails dug into the wood. “Those sneaky little bastards. Trying to move in on our setup. Well, my old job’s setup, anyway. They’re trying to get more legit as magical police in the Brink. Oh man, the captain won’t be pleased. If the shifters offer you their muscle, that’ll cut jobs from MLE. Oh no, the captain will not be pleased at all.”
“Magical police, Reagan?” J.M.’s eyes were tight.
“My bad. Look, you’ll come to grips with it eventually. I mean, you’ve gotten this far in a couple hours. That’s huge.”
“How could I not? I saw that guy change.”
“Most people would think an animal did it.”
“The rest of my department, yeah. Sean spun that tale and they ate it up.” He shook his head. “Look, Reagan, would you go to dinner with me? I’d love some insider perspective on this.”
No was on the tip of my tongue, but his gaze was imploring me to help him. To give him a hand up out of the pit he’d fallen into. I felt bad for the guy, since I was basically the reason he’d landed in this mess. If not for my impatience, Sean would’ve let him keep his sanity for a while longer.
“Sure,” I said with a sigh. “When?”
Gratitude and longing both crossed his face, and I felt a weird pang. Like maybe going out with him wouldn’t be so bad. “Whenever you want. Tomorrow night?”
A seething presence took up real estate behind me. J.M.’s eyes widened.
Ah yes. I’d forgotten about Mr. Overprotective there for a second.
I glanced behind me, confirming that Darius stood there. His face was shut down into a hard mask, and his bearing was clearly intended to display his size and power.
“Don’t mind him,” I said, turning back. “He’s like a stray cat.”
“Is this your—” J.M. gestured at Darius.
“Yes, I am her—”
“Nope,” I said. “I don’t know what he was going to say, but—”
“You are my—”
“Nope.” I cut my hand through the air to stop him again. “He’s a vampire who is cooking me dinner. Strange, but true. There is literally nothing else going on here, trust me. He will leave right after dinner.”
J.M.’s eyes drifted to my robe.
Dang it. Timing was never on my side.
“Anyway.” I shrugged nonchalantly. “Give me your phone and I’ll put my number in it. You can text me.” I quickly inputted my digits and name and handed it back. “Talk to you tomorrow.”
With a furrowed brow, he nodded, said goodbye, and then slowly worked his way down the steps. He glanced back before he crossed the street. His car had to be the Mustang parked on the other side. This hadn’t been a business call, though I’d already guessed as much from the lost look in his eyes.
“Well, that was weird.” I closed the door.
“Reagan, that human cannot treat you how you need to be treated,” Darius said.
“Number one, it isn’t a date, it’s a counseling session to help him come to grips with magical stuff. Number two, I would ask how you think I should be treated, but you’ll just—”
“Like the priceless treasure you are.”
“That’s what I thought you’d say, but while I might be priceless, my worth to you is definitely quantifiable. You know what you’ll gain by using me, which is why I suspect you are guarding me so closely. But that human doesn’t want anything except comfort. He can’t use me, especially since I just got fired. Or am about to be fired, one or the other. He’s looking for normalcy. So am I. Save it.”
His jaw clenched.
“Truth bomb,” I muttered, leaning against the wall. Silence descended, thick and heavy. “Let me guess,” I ventured, “are you going to trash my dinner and storm out of here?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re hungry.” He stepped aside graciously and put out his hand, motioning me into the kitchen. “Or would you prefer a stand on which to eat your meal in front of the TV like a modern-day barbarian?”
I tapped my chin. “Well, when you put it like that, in front of the TV sounds great.”
Mere seconds later, my eyes widened when he brought in a TV tray laden with a gourmet place setting. A heaping plate took up the center, with a glistening steak resting on mashed potatoes and accompanied by string beans. A small bowl of salad and a piece of baguette sat to one side, and an array of silverware spanned out on the other—two knives, one for meat and one for buttering the bread, and two forks of different sizes. A glass of red wine sat next to a sweating glass of sparkling water, and a crystal vase holding a single red rose adorned the other corner.
“I had roses in my kitchen?” I asked as my stomach growled. That snack hadn’t been nearly adequate.