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“That’s him. Wanted to let me know he’s running late and to meet him at the lobby at five-fifteen.”

Lynn peers at me, her eyes trying to read what I’m not saying. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

I sigh. “I’m not sure of anything. Jake makes me unbalanced. One moment I’m annoyed and the next, I want to run my fingers through his hair. He’s so . . . what’s the word I’m looking for?”

Lynn smiles and waggles her brows. “Hot?”

“No. That’s not it.” But there’s no denying that. He’s hot AF.

Her smile turns into a smirk, and the waggles go crazy. “Sexy?”

I shake a fist at her and follow it with a finger—the middle finger.

She ignores my mock insult and claps her hands. “I know! Fuckable! He’s so fuckable.”

“Lynn . . .” I try to hold a laugh and snort instead.

“What?” She’s all wide-eyed innocence. “Well, it is true. He is.”

Yes. She’s right. “I don’t know how they allow you to teach first-graders. If only they could see inside your brain. But you’re right. Jake’s a total DILF.”

“Detective I’d like to fuck?” She doesn’t miss a beat. There’s no hesitation at all in her response.

I tilt my head back, look at the ceiling, and groan. “You know me too well. I can’t hide anything from you. And the word I’m looking for is irritating. Which also applies to you right now.”

“Awww.” She side-hugs me. “You love me. I love you, too.”

Chapter9

Jake

I wait near the entryway.The elevator doors open with a ding and Ava walks across the lobby in a long blue dress. The fabric sways around her legs, a muscular calf peeking in and out through a long slit. Her eyes are wide, her gaze darting around the open space. There’s a fresh glow to her cheeks and a touch of gold to her skin. She’s been in the sun since I last saw her. I drink her in. Her brown hair falls just below her shoulders in soft waves. She’s slight but strong. Her arms are toned. I flashback to the way she looked in the cutoff shorts yesterday. It’s easy to imagine her tanned and slender legs wrapped around me. I wish we had met under different circumstances because I would love to get to know her better. Much better. But she’s just passing through, and I’m not going anywhere. I can’t leave. Even if I could, getting involved with a psychic? I scoff at the thought.

Her gaze finds me, and her step falters. A touch of pink colors her face. Her features are feminine and delicate. She looks younger than her age with her large hazel eyes and pert nose, but her full lips betray the innocent look and conjure up all the things I’d like to do with her mouth. I push away my stray thoughts. This is not the time to give in to fantasies. I wave hello, glad she can’t see the lust in my eyes hidden behind the sunglasses I always wear. “Ready?”

She nods, her hands twisting around a white sweater and a small purse.

I glance around. We have caught the attention of a couple of people. The man at the front desk tracks us with watchful eyes. Someone lounging in the lobby has given up on his newspaper, finding us much more interesting than whatever he’s reading. In a small town, people are always watching. Except when you need a witness. Then nobody sees anything.

We walk outside and across the parking lot. I slow my pace to match her shorter stride. A breeze ruffles her hair, and the scent of green apples wafts toward me. I inhale deeply and hold it for a few seconds, trapping her smell inside me before letting it go.

We walk in silence—the low hum of traffic fills the space between us. I unlock and open the door of my truck for her.

She hesitates by the open door. “Where are we going?”

“I don’t know. We’ll drive somewhere and talk.”

She holds her place for another second before stepping into the SUV. Is she worried about being alone with me? Or about her safety? Cop or no cop, I’m a stranger to her. I give her a smile, a genuine one, and try to get her at ease.

I close the door and walk around. When I get in, Ava’s seat belt is already fastened, and she holds herself still, eyes looking forward. Her hands are clamped around her purse and the cardigan on her lap.

I allow myself to look at her for longer than I should. I clear my throat as if it could also evict the not-so-professional thoughts from my mind and start the engine. It comes to life with a smooth rumble and the radio plays a classic rock song. We leave the parking lot.

She glances my way.

I look at what I’m wearing, jeans and a polo shirt. I didn’t have a chance to go home to shower and change. Why the hell am I thinking about this? I don’t have to impress her. She will be gone and out of my life, back to New York. The thought of never seeing her again pokes at a lonely corner of my heart. But my job takes priority over everything else. Trying to solve my sister’s cold case consumes me. No relationship has ever lasted more than a few weeks. No woman can compete with the ghost of my sister and me trying to find who killed her. I won’t rest until I do.

“Sorry I was late.”