Page 1

Prologue

“Well, well. If it isn’t the Lemon Drop Kid.”

Huddled in a booth at Cutter’s Mill Bar and Grill, Dax and I looked up from our drinks—and kept looking up—as Officer Raleigh Jackson, Little Copenhagen PD’s finest, gazed down at us with resignation.

Dax, being the goofball that he was, giggled.

Me, being whatever I was seventeen months ago, choked mid-swallow on my lemon drop martini.

Technically, it was a choke and a teeny-tiny splutter, made worse by Dax—still giggling maniacally—energetically pounding my back.

So, the teeny-tiny splutter became a full splashdown. I could see Raleigh—Officer Raleigh Jackson—prismed through the glittery drops of martini on my eyelashes. I think he was trying not to laugh.

But he sounded as serious as ever when he said, “Jeez, I hope neither of you juvenile delinquents plan on driving anywhere tonight.”

I found my voice and said, alittlehoarsely from all the coughing, “You know we’re thirty, right?”

Raleigh’s lip curled. “You’re twenty-eight, Caz, and that’s a legal technicality.”

“Rude,” Dax observed.

We’ve been best friends since the sixth grade, Dax and I. No origin story. We randomly got seated next to each other in Mrs. Kaynor’s homeroom, and the rest was history

“I’ll say.” It did kind of sting, given it was Friday night and we weren’t doing anything that everyone else in the place—barring Officer Killjoy—wasn’t.

“Youcould drive us home,” Dax suggested. He flinched when I kicked him beneath the table, then grinned even more broadly.

Raleigh snorted. “Yeah, no. I’m on duty.”

“So?”

“So,” Raleigh shot back. A reminder that, sure, he was older, but notthatmuch older, and snappy repartee had never been his long suit.

“I call bullshit,” Dax retorted. “You just ordered beer and a plate of potato skins to eat at the bar.”

That was news to me, and you’d have thought it was news to Raleigh, given his expression.

“Anyway, I’ve got a ride.” Dax added slyly, “You could drive Caz home, though.”

Dax always had a ride, literally and metaphorically. He was the original chick magnet: slim and blond with dark soulful eyes, which was false advertising because he was the least soulful person on the planet. He was also short, which I used to tell him was where the magnet part came in. He could have easily fit on the front of some lucky girl’s refrigerator.

Raleigh’s dark brows pulled into a straight and forbidding line. “Ha.”

Frankly, it was a pretty half-hearted effort. Like he was afraid he was going to be roped into driving the kiddy carpool, but knew it was his duty.

“HA!” I said with a lot more vim and vigor. Because thanks, but no thanks.

In fact, we got a few glances from our fellow drinkers.

Raleigh noticed the interested looks and retreated posthaste to the bar.

I glared at Dax. “Seriously?”

“Hey, he noticed you the minute he walked in here. I think he was going to grab his food and take off, but he changed his mind when he saw you. It’s mutual, man. You should go for it.”

“Go for it? What are we…” I groped for a suitably scathing descriptor because the idea that Raleighmightactually sort-of be even a little bit interested was way too… Much.

Dax supplied, “Horny? Yes, we are. And so’s he. Come on, you guys have been dancing around this since you were kids.