Page 12 of Cuffed (Everyday Heroes 1)
“Why?”
“To catch up.”
“To catch up, or to pry?” she asks.
“Look, all I want to do is see for myself that she’s happy.”
“I already told you she is. Why would you think differently?”
“You should be a police interrogator,” I deflect.
“Danger and I don’t mix unless you consider the jaws of a Rottweiler hazardous.”
“Sounds hazardous to me.” The woman has a way of changing the topic like no one I’ve ever met before.
“I’m sorry, Officer Malone, but I can’t give you Emerson’s phone number without asking her. For some reason, I think if I ask her, she would say no.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because I saw how she reacted to you the other day. Then, when I asked about who you were, she wouldn’t tell me, so now the onus is on you to explain. Who are you to her?”
“I told you the other day. I used to know her back in grade school. Anything else would betray her confidence,” I say with a smile to ease suspicion. “I’m sorry, but that’s all I can tell you.”
“Are you sure that’s how you want to play this?”
“I’m not playing anything, just stating the facts, ma’am.”
“Smooth one, Malone.” She shifts to put her hands on her hips. “My money’s on you being her first kiss or first love. Something like that.”
“Not quite, but you’re getting warmer.” My radio crackles to life again, prompting me to look at my watch to see I have a few minutes left until I’m on-call. “Thanks for your time, Desi, but I have to get to work. Sorry to bug you.”
“I can’t give you her number without asking her, but I could invite you to a little barbecue I’m having tomorrow night. And I might be able to tell you that a certain someone will be there . . . if, you know, you’d like to stop by and say hi or something.”
“Or something.” After Em’s warmth toward me the other day, I can only imagine how thrilled she’d be if I showed up out of the blue.
“She could use a nice guy like you around.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, now curious about the company Emerson keeps.
“Nothing. Oh, make sure you take that uniform”—she gestures up and down my body—“off before you come,” Desi says, completely sidestepping my question. “My friends might get a little freaked if you show up in it. They’re a little free-spirited, if you catch my drift.”
“Seems like most people are these days.”
“Promise me this barbecue is not one of your elaborate ways to set me up with one of your friends.” I take a bite of the carrot dipped in ranch and fight the urge to gag. Nope, still don’t like vegetables. “Why do people eat this shit?”
“Because it’s good for you,” Desi says as she hums around her bright pink kitchen with a black-and-white checkered floor like she’s freaking Martha Stewart.
“No. Sex is good for you. Chocolate is good for you. Wine is even better for you. They feed the soul. This crap,” I say and hold up the carrot, “only serves to make you miserable.”
“Says the woman who could eat nonstop every day a
nd maintain her to-die-for figure.” She rolls her eyes as she wipes her hands on a dishtowel.
I reach for the dish of M&M’s and grab a handful with a grin. “Sucks to be me.” I finish chewing them as she mixes something in a bowl. It looks nasty now, but I know will taste like heaven when she’s done with it. It always does. “I’m serious, Des. You know I love your cooking, but it isn’t enough to keep me here if you play matchmaker again. You try, and I’m gonna bail.”
“Pfft. No you won’t. My cooking is ten times better than anything you could make on the hot plate at your place.”
She isn’t making eye contact with me. That in and of itself makes me question whether I believe this whole party isn’t a ruse to fix me up with one of the many people that come and go in her life. She’s done it so many times, and yet, still has no shame.
