Page 24 of The Gift
She looked down at the locket once more then snapped it closed and returned it to him. Their fingers brushed.
A spark jumped between them. Coop recoiled a fraction. Static, probably. But in this humidity?
More rattled by it than he wanted to admit, he cleared his throat. “Still nothing from me?” he asked, trying for casual and afraid he was failing.
“I wouldn’t say that. Just… nothing useful to the case.”
Coop watched as color moved into her cheeks. She was resisting the attraction, too, and, like him, worried she’d said too much. She quickly refocused.
“You said you didn’t expect me to find anything, but you brought me to the house anyway.”
“Call it a hunch. A good one, as it turns out.”
She arched a brow. “Why do I feel most of your hunches are good ones?”
“After twenty years, sometimes you know.”
“You sound like me.” Her eyes narrowed playfully. “Judy said you have the best gut on the force. Are you sure you’re not gifted?”
He gave a quiet laugh. “Not last I checked.”
She tilted her head. “It might explain it if you were.”
“What’s that?”
“Why I can’t read you,” she said, sounding mystified, like he was a puzzle she couldn’t solve.
“That bothers you,” he said, not a question.
“No. But it’s odd. Extremely so.”
Coop wasn’t sure what to make of that. He’d spent his entire adult life learning how to read people. The idea that someone might turn that skill on him hadn’t crossed his mind.
The swing creaked again as she nudged it forward with her foot. “Maybe you’re just stubborn.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been accused of that.”
Her laughter was low and warm, and easy to listen to.
Coop looked out into the dark yard, forcing himself to remember something important. Erica was a witness in a homicide investigation, despite her secondhand informationthat would never hold up in court. Sitting on her porch swing, listening to her laugh, breathing in her perfume, and wanting more than her skirt touching his skin probably wasn’t the smartest decision he’d made this week.
Still. He didn’t move.
Not until a dog barked somewhere down the street and a pair of glowing eyes appeared from the bushes. Whiskers watched, tail twitching, waiting for him to take the hint.
Coop huffed a quiet breath. Even the cat knew it was time for him to go.
When he stood, her gaze lifted to his, soft but guarded, as if she sensed the shift in him. Before he could speak, she did. “I’ll call if I get anything else. Good night.”
He gave a small, reluctant dip of his chin, needing to go but hating to leave.
“Sweet dreams, Erica.” He meant it for her sake.
She inhaled softly, a little shaky, enough for him to notice.
He shoved the thought aside with all the other things about her he shouldn’t be noticing. Two steps—that was all it would take to close the distance between them. But he made himself walk away. The job came first. Especially when a teenage girl was missing.
The steps creaked under his boots. Whiskers trotted ahead of him like an escort, as if making sure he actually left.
