Page 20

COULTER

T he lights from the houses across the dark canal reflected off the water, creating an almost magical atmosphere.

I reached into the cooler and pulled out another cold one, offering it to Faith.

It seemed weird to celebrate that she now knew that someone else had killed Kylie, but my freedom from the number one suspect spot made this a celebration of sorts.

“Another beer?” I asked.

She took it, her fingers brushing against mine. “Sure, why not. I’m off duty.” She held it up, clinking it against my bottle. “Cheers.”

“Cheers to that.” I took a sip and leaned back, the cool breeze washing over me. “What do you like to do in your off time?”

“I’ve taken up gardening, but somehow I’ve managed to kill half the plants already.”

Laughing, I held up my thumb. “Mine’s not green either.” I waved toward my barren pea gravel yard. “I don't even bother with plants. Lucky for me, killing fish is part of the job.” After we both had a laugh, I asked, “Do you like to fish?”

Faith scrunched her cute little nose and bit her lip, like she was embarrassed to admit it. “I haven’t been since I was little. My uncle took me bridge fishing with my cousins in Miami a few times before they moved to Chicago.”

Flustered by the feeling she stirred in my stomach, I forced my eyes from her lips and met her gaze. “So you’ve never been fishing in the Keys?”

Faith shook her head. “Nope.”

“Well, we need to change that!” If she wasn’t investigating me anymore, maybe that would be allowed.

Her lips curled into a wry little smile as she asked, “Are you offering me the VIP treatment?”

That was a loaded question, but I decided to keep it mostly clean. “But of course,” I smiled, “complete with private lessons.”

“Deal,” she agreed, which gave me a happy twinge. “I need to get out on the water more. Kind of silly living here and not doing ocean things.”

“For real. What made you move to the Keys?”

Faith sighed, staring into the darkness.

“Most of my mom’s family is still in Cuba, and my dad died when I was a little girl, so we were kind of on our own in Miami.

When my mom finally remarried and moved to Arizona, there was nothing keeping me there.

It never really felt like home anyway,” she said with a tinge of sadness.

“Even after I joined the force, I never felt like I fit in. So when this job opportunity came up, I jumped on it. I needed a change. ”

“That was pretty brave of you,” I acknowledged with a nod. “It can’t be easy starting over. Made any friends here yet?”

She shook her head. “Not really. It’s hard to make friends when you’re the new cop in town. Most people keep their distance.”

I chuckled. “The Keys were built by misfits, people who like to bend the law. It’s pretty much the Smuggler’s Cove code to keep your distance from the cops. It’s in our DNA.”

“What about the Sheriff?” she asked. “Isn’t he your dad’s best friend?”

“Waylan’s an anomaly. He understands the misfit mentality. People trust him.”

“He defended you from the start.” Her warm smile spread wider when her stomach rumbled, and we both laughed.

“Sounds like you’re hungry. How about I make us some dinner?”

“You cook?” she asked, surprised.

“Mom insisted all her boys be able to take care of themselves,” I said, standing up. “Cooking, cleaning, laundry– she made sure we learned the basics. Come on, I’ll whip up something.” I hopped off the boat and offered her my hand. “I hope you like fish.”

She took my hand to steady herself as she stepped onto the dock. “I love fish. But don’t you ever get tired of it?”

“Nope. There’s a million ways to cook it, so I like to switch it up.”

Her eyebrows raised as her hand drifted back to her side, leaving mine feeling empty. “I’m impressed. ”

“Do you like to cook?” I asked.

“I don’t like to cook for myself much, but I do it.”

“Yeah, it’s way more fun to cook for someone. I’m glad you could stay,” I called over my shoulder as she followed me up to my house. “I wasn’t expecting company, so don’t mind the mess.” I twisted the knob, pushing the door open before stepping aside to let her in ahead of me.

She looked around my little bungalow. “Looks pretty clean to be honest…”

I could tell what she was thinking but didn’t say. “For a dude?”

“Yeah. I guess your mother really did raise you right.”

“Yes, she did,” I grinned, reaching into the fridge to pull out the ingredients: parmesan cheese, Japanese bread crumbs, a key lime and butter for the sauce.

Faith asked, “What can I do to help?”

“You can stand there and look pretty. I got this.” I winked.

“I prefer to participate. My mother always said idle hands are the devil’s tools.”

Suppressing the thought of what deviant acts I’d rather have her hands performing, I said, “Let’s get those hands busy then,” handing her a bag of potatoes with a smirk.

“Can’t have them doing the devil’s work.

” Placing a knife on the cutting board beside me on the counter, I pointed.

“Peel a few spuds and we’ll do some mashed potatoes. ”

We chatted as she peeled and diced, and I started the sauce, asking her about her childhood and her job .

“Police work isn’t easy for a woman in Miami,” she said with a wrinkled brow.

“But it’s even harder in a small town.” She dumped a load of diced potatoes into a pot and started to fill it with water.

“Growing up here must have been nice, knowing everyone in town,” she said, watching me dip the fish in the egg wash, and then coat in the breadcrumbs.

“Yes and no,” I replied, glancing at her. “It’s great having a tight-knit community, but it also means there’s no privacy. Everybody knows your business.”

She huffed out a dry chuckle. “Yeah I’ve noticed that. My high school class was bigger than the entire student population of Coral Shores.”

“Kind of ironic. The Keys is a tiny strip of land between two oceans, but in reality, it’s a small pond.”

Faith giggled. “Bonus is that it’s easier to be a big fish, I suppose.” She smiled, watching me place the crispy, golden pan-fried filets on a paper towel.

I grinned. “Easier to catch the big fish too.”

“We need wine.” I went to the fridge. “White with fish?”

“Whatever you say,” Faith answered with a shrug. “I’m not really a connoisseur.”

“This is a good year,” I said, producing a bottle of Pinot Grigio. The cork made a satisfying pop. “It will go better with the fish than beer.”

Faith held a grin as I poured two glasses.

“What?” I asked, handing her a glass.

“You’re just full of surprises.” She smiled, taking a sip. “Oh, wow, that’s delicious. ”

“I appreciate the finer things in life,” I said as I plated the filets, drizzling the key lime butter sauce over the top.

Faith added the garlic butter mashed potatoes and green beans, and I garnished the fish with a slice of fresh key lime and a sprinkle of shredded parmesan. “Dinner is served,” I declared.

While Faith set the plates on the table, I dialed up Cuban music ballads on my phone. “With some Miami music to make you feel at home.”

Faith giggled, taking her seat. “This looks absolutely amazing.” She waited until I was seated before she took a bite, her eyes widening in surprise. “Whoa.” Her smile spread as she savored the bite. “This is really good. Seriously, I’m impressed.”

I shrugged, feeling a warm sense of pride. “Thanks. You saw me make it, though. It’s pretty simple.”

“I like that you’re so humble.”

I grinned, looking her in the eye. “I like that you’re here.”

“Me too,” she smiled, holding my gaze. I thought I saw her cheeks flush, which made my stomach flutter.

We ate in comfortable silence, the clink of silverware mingling with the sounds of latin ballads. Faith seemed more relaxed and open than I’d ever seen her. Away from the pressures of her job, she was like a different person.

“So, tell me about your music,” she said, wiping her mouth with a napkin. “I was really surprised when I heard you playing the other night. You’re good.”

I laughed. “Why were you surprised that I’m good?”

“Good question. You’re probably good at everything you do. ”

Her comment stirred ideas for sarcastic replies laden with innuendo, but I didn’t want to risk offending her. “That’s a high compliment,” I said as I chewed, my mouth twisting to the side. “And you’re not wrong. Anything worth doing is worth doing right.”

She chuckled. “I take back what I said about your humility.”

“To be honest, I’m out of practice with music. But I have a hell of a lot of fun doing it when I get the chance.”

“Maybe you should do more of it,” she said with a smile.

“I should. It’s like an escape. It helps me relax. Maybe I’ll see if I can play a few songs at Trouble’s wedding.”

“Trouble?”

“My younger brother, Trevor. I couldn’t say his name when he was born so it came out sounding like Trouble. We still call him that.”

“Ah, of course, Corinne’s boyfriend.”

“That’s right, you met Corinne– when you showed up at her office to interrogate her.”

She nodded, a hint of remorse in her eyes. “It was procedure. But you should be grateful. All she did was confirm that you’re a genuinely good person.”

“I guess I'll have to buy them a nicer wedding gift now.”

“When’s the big day?” she asked with a grin.

“February eighteenth.”

Faith’s eyes grew wide. “Wow, that’s soon.”

“They figured why wait? With the baby on the way, and her belly growing every day… ”

“Right, for the wedding pics,” she snickered.

“You ever been married?”

She nearly choked on the bite she was swallowing.

“Nooooo!” She chuckled, washing down the food with a sip of wine.

“Thought I might once–the guy I dated in college. But he always hated the idea of me being a cop– said it was too dangerous, not what he wanted for the mother of his children. Not that he ever asked me if I even wanted children,” she huffed, rolling her eyes.

“Didn’t matter anyway. He bailed the week before I started the academy.

I guess I kind of married the force instead. ”

“His loss,” I said, pushing another smudge of potatoes onto the fish on my fork. “I’d say you made the right choice. Any man that can’t accept you for who you are and encourage you to follow your dreams, doesn’t deserve you.”

Faith blinked at me, a sweet smile on her lips. “You always say the right thing.”

“The truth is always the right thing.”

The softness in her eyes made my heart skip a beat when she said, “I suppose that’s another thing I really like about you.”

The more we talked, the more I was drawn to her. She was real, honest. Maybe it was the way she talked about her family, or the way she laughed at the silly stories I told about my brothers’ antics growing up. But it felt like she saw me, the real me.

Whatever it was, I knew one thing for sure: I wanted to know her better.