Page 8 of Detective for the Debutante (SAFE Haven Security #3)

MURPHY

T here were three things I was certain of after a fitful night of sleep.

One, last night was an anomaly. A moment of weakness. That would have no repeats. Leigh Whittaker needs to stay firmly entrenched in the friends column with no more plans—or fantasies—of kissing her again.

Two, she is going to need a cooling-off period based on the level of pissed-off female who stormed inside last night.

I grew up with two sisters. I knew when a woman needed time before an apology would be accepted.

It once took my sister Quinn two weeks before she would accept my apology when I accidentally shared her crush on one of my friends with said friend.

And the murderous expression on her face then had reminded me a lot of Leigh’s face last night.

And three, up until last night I had prided myself on two things—my self-control and my patience. Looks like my self-control finally recognized its kryptonite.

Leigh Whittaker.

I am not going to let my patience become collateral damage. I can wait to talk things out with her. Even if it takes until we are both in Nashville before I try to reach out.

You need a phone number to reach out.

One I don’t have, but know Cole will give to me if I ask.

The time apart will not only give Leigh her cooling-off period but hopefully allow me to rebuild some of the self-control that evaded me last night.

I wanted to blame the alcohol. But I hadn’t had that much to drink. I wanted to blame the setting, but I had gone to plenty of weddings before without kissing someone I knew was off-limits.

Everything about last night was centered on the petite pixie who made me feel like the sun had come out after a long storm.

Those kinds of thoughts are what got you in trouble last night.

Right. And those are the kinds of thoughts I need to stop thinking.

Nodding my head, I continue until my foot hits the last stair tread.

The door is less than twenty-five feet from me when the universe throws two obstacles in my path.

The first is the warm, spicy-sweet aroma of vanilla, cinnamon, and sugar.

As if on cue, Elle, the owner of the bed-and-breakfast, comes from the hallway behind me leading to the kitchen balancing a large plate of steaming cinnamon rolls, and my mouth waters.

I’ve never been able to turn down anything sweet, and homemade cinnamon rolls? Suddenly that sounds much better than a cup of coffee and a pastry from the small shop in the town square I spotted when I drove into town.

And second? The echoes of Leigh’s laughter coming from the room to my right—the dining room. The sound tickles my ears, my body already turning in the direction before I yank myself back into place, facing the front door.

“Good morning, Mr. O’Connell. Breakfast?” Elle asks, eyeing my ramrod posture as she readjusts the massive plate of cinnamon rolls.

I force my body to relax to a more normal posture and drop down that last step to the main floor.

“No, thank you. I thought I’d go retrieve my car. Get on the road to Nashville.”

If she’s curious why my car isn’t here, she doesn’t say anything.

“Of course. I could box one up for you to take with you?” she offers.

My stomach chooses that moment to rumble its approval and she smiles.

“I’ll drop these off and get a fresh one out of the next batch while you’re out.”

“Thank you. I should be back?—”

Words fail me, my attention snapping to Leigh as she steps into the doorway. Her blue eyes lose some of their Caribbean sparkle, the color reminding me of a storm-riddled ocean, as the smile curving her lips dims.

I’m only vaguely aware of Sydney behind Leigh. Of Elle moving soundlessly between us once she drops off the plate in the dining room.

“Good morning.” I finally manage to get the words out around the lump of awkwardness sitting on my vocal cords. My voice is strained and I clear my throat.

“Good morning,” Leigh murmurs.

“Good morning,” Sydney replies from over Leigh’s shoulder. “Coming for breakfast, Murphy?”

Her question creates an awkward—and frustrating—debate in my body, and it takes more time than I want to decline the temptation of Leigh and homemade cinnamon rolls hot from the oven. But she doesn’t deserve to be led on. And that’s what I would be doing if I said yes.

“I was actually going to head into town. Time to get home.”

Leigh’s gaze collides with mine before she shifts her focus.

“Hot date?” Sydney asks, popping a bite of food in her mouth.

Leigh’s head turns to look at her friend so fast I would bet she’s dizzy now.

“No.”

Sydney rolls her eyes and her eyes bounce between Leigh and me.

“Leigh.” Her name feels awkward on my tongue, but I force myself to continue. “Can I talk to you? Privately.”

Sydney moans loudly as she takes a massive bite of the cinnamon roll in her hand, and my stomach growls again.

I ignore it and wait for Leigh to respond. When it’s clear that she’s not going to, I clear my throat.

“About last night.”

“There’s nothing to talk about. We kissed—” My attention snaps to Sydney and back to Leigh. “Sydney knows everything. We kissed. I made the offer for more. You declined. End of discussion.”

It’s an answer I should accept. Accept and move on. But instead my body tenses with the need to try to get her to understand how hard it was to turn her down last night.

Oh, it was hard last night .

Fuck. That’s not what I meant.

“I want to explain.”

“There’s no explanation needed. I got your message. Loud and clear. What else could be left to say?”

A lot.

What? I was wrong to turn you down last night. I want to be friends.

For the first time in a long time, I’m not sure what to say, and I don’t like this uncertainty rolling through me whenever she’s around.

But I can’t walk away from her either.

And that was what put me in this situation in the first place.

The heat of Sydney’s gaze is a laser beam of intensity as she continues to shovel in bites of her cinnamon roll, and the tips of my ears grow warm under her scrutiny.

“I want us to clear the air.”

“There is no air to clear,” Leigh says flatly.

I should have kept to my plan to give her a cooling-off period. The pissed off radiates from her in the tension of her shoulders, the clipped tone she uses with me.

It’s like I’m a stranger to her.

Isn’t this what you wanted?

No. I had hoped we could be friends.

I may not be able to kiss Leigh Whittaker despite the memory of her taste still making my lips demand more. But I can keep my promise to Cole and her parents. I can look after her while we are both in Nashville.

“I promised your parents I’d keep an eye on you.” Based on the way her mouth tightens to a line, that was the wrong thing to say. “I’d like to show you some of the places in Nashville we talked about last night.”

There’s a spark—a flash—of interest before she extinguishes it.

“Just…think about it. I’ll call you,” I say before she can say something else.

I still have zero clue why I’m pushing this. But I can’t just go back to the way things were before yesterday.

“You don’t have my number. Excuse me.” She walks around me and up the stairs, not looking back.

“Leigh.” I start to go after her.

“I wouldn’t,” Sydney speaks up, reminding me she’s been there the whole time.

“Why not?” I turn my attention back to her where she’s licking cinnamon roll icing from her thumb.

“She told me.”

“I heard her,” I say.

“Everything.”

The way she says the one word has me feeling like a young boot my first year on the force and screwing up something big.

“You screwed up,” she says, not needing a response from me.

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

“She’s embarrassed about what happened.”

I figured that weighed in somewhere.

“She has nothing to be embarrassed about,” I tell Sydney.

“That’s what I told her. How if you weren’t interested, there would be other fish in the sea.”

My teeth click together at her words.

Leigh isn’t yours.

“Don’t get all caveman. You think just because you don’t want to every other guy is going to be the same way? She deserves a hot girl summer.”

Two sisters and I have no idea what that even means.

“What the fuck is a hot girl summer?” I ask her.

“I don’t feel like explaining it to you. All you need to know is I convinced Leigh to use this summer as one.”

Guess I’m going to have to call my sisters on the way back home and ask. If they know. And if they’ll tell me. The two questions are exclusive. And I stopped trying to predict their behavior a long time ago.

“You know, you remind me of my sister Quinn,” I tell her.

The sass is uncannily similar, and I feel like I’m fighting with my younger sister versus a woman I just met last night.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Yeah, Quinn would too.” My lips twitch with the urge to smile and I finally release it.

She smiles in return, her eyes staying steady as she studies me for several beats.

The feeling is unnerving, like she can see every secret I keep locked away.

My mother has that ability. And one of my first sergeants right after graduating from the academy.

Mike Jacobs had been my dad’s sergeant when he was killed in the line of duty.

In a way, it was like my dad was there with me.

But Mike could see through me as clearly as if I were made of glass.

Kind of like Sydney now.

I roll my shoulders under the steady scrutiny, nothing to hide when it comes to her—or Leigh.

“You ever think about being a cop?” I ask after several more moments until the sensation of being a bug under the microscope is too much to bear in silence.

She smirks.

“I sort of am. I just use a computer instead of a gun.”

The way she says it has my spidey-senses tingling.

“And what did your computer tell you about me?”

“You’re so sure I looked into you?”

Forget cop. Sydney could play professional poker.

But so could I.

I lift an eyebrow as my only response and she nods.

“I did.”

“And what did you find?”

“You’re more than just a pretty face, O’Connell.”

Her comment catches me off guard and has me focusing on our conversation, not sure I heard her right and, if I did, how I’m supposed to take her comment.

“Err…thanks?”

“It’s a good thing.” Reaching into her pocket, she pulls out her phone and focuses on her screen for a minute.

My phone dings with a text.

“You should check that,” Sydney tells me, once more glancing at me.

I pull my phone from my pocket, the text message on the screen from a phone number I don’t recognize.

UNKNOWN NUMBER

You better be worth her time.

“How the hell?” My head snaps up to find Sydney grinning at me.

How the fuck did she get my cell phone number? I’d taken a lot of pains to make sure it wasn’t easy to find.

“It’s what I do. That and more. Leigh’s important to me. So don’t screw it up.”

“Screw what up? There’s nothing to screw up.”

Her smirk is frustrating because it doesn’t give away anything. And as a trained detective, I should know how to see beyond what people want me to.

“Something tells me there’s more between you than either of you wants to admit. But if you’re not worth her time, you’ll lose her before you’ve even begun.”

“She’s not mine to win or lose,” I tell her.

She shakes her head.

“And I don’t have the time to explain to you why you’re wrong. See you around, O’Connell.”

Without another goodbye, she heads in the direction Leigh took earlier and leaves me standing alone at the door to the dining room. I’m not sure whether to be scared, impressed, confused, or all three.

Luckily, I’m saved by the decision when my phone vibrates in my hand with a Washington, DC area code. Stepping onto the porch, I click on the green button.

“O’Connell.”

“Murphy, this is Rachel Park.”

The special agent in charge of the task force I’ll be working on.

“Ma’am. What can I do for you?”

“I got the results in yesterday for some of the background checks. We need to schedule your polygraph, but the vendor will be reaching out to you for that. Just wanted to give you the heads-up.”

“Thank you, I appreciate that.” Excitement fizzes through my blood. But for the first time, it’s joined by something else.

Something I don’t want to put a name to, but has everything to do with the woman with golden hair and sea-storm eyes.

“You’re still ready to start for us in September? I’d love to have you sooner if NPD can cut you loose.”

“I’d love to, ma’am. But I want to make sure I have time to close out the remaining cases I have.” Not like my captain has been assigning me any additional cases once they received my notice. But I do still have some that need additional follow-up and notes to add.

“Understood.” She gives me more particulars about the vendor and what to expect before we hang up.

When my phone buzzes in my hand, I half expect it to be another phone call from her.

But no.

This is a text that widens a small fissure of hesitation to something more noticeable.

COLE

Hey, man, thanks for agreeing to look in on Laura Leigh while you’re in Nashville. Hannah Grace and I really appreciate it and I know her parents are super relieved too.

He includes Leigh’s number below his text.

Look in on Leigh.

It’s the one thing I’ll allow myself to do. That job in DC is calling my name. Eyes on the prize, I can’t forget that.

Absolutely. Happy to help.

One problem down. Now I have Leigh’s phone number.

But something tells me I have a bigger problem. One more important than anything. Including my new job in DC.

And it involves Leigh Whittaker accepting my apology.