We rounded the corner and fell back into step. I felt a brief flicker of trepidation as Cade led me across the street toward the harbor, knowing we were only a stone’s throw from Graham’s loft. The last thing I needed was to run into him right now.
He doesn’t own this city,I reminded myself firmly. He doesn’t control where you go or don’t go.
On the docks, several boats were backing out of their slips, headed out for a Sunday night on the water. Pickering Wharf was busy as ever, the outdoor patios overflowing with people sipping cocktails and snacking on appetizer plates of fried seafood beneath heating lamps. My stomach rumbled, reminding me I hadn’t yet eaten today. After a few moments of silence, I glanced over at Cade and found him studying me curiously.
“What?”
He shrugged. “Just trying to figure you out. You’re a bit of an enigma, Gwendolyn Goode.”
“Is that a compliment or an insult?”
“Just an observation.”
“Honestly, there’s not much to figure out. I’m pretty ordinary.”
“We’ll have to agree to disagree on that front.” He stopped on the sidewalk and I automatically followed suit. The crowd parted around us, a steady stream of traffic moving down the wharf. “I was wondering…”
My heart leapt.
Was the sexy, silver fox cop about to ask me out?
Moreover… did I want the sexy, silver fox cop to ask me out?
I stared up into his eyes. So blue. So beautiful. “Yes?”
“Would you maybe want to—”
But whatever Cade was about to ask me never made it past his lips. Instead of his voice, I heard someone else’s. A deep, familiar rasp that paralyzed me from the crown of my head to the soles of my feet.
“You conducting a case interview without me, Hightower?”
Chapter Fourteen
I thought “bread-crumbing” was a Hansel & Gretel reference.
- Gwen Goode, learning new lingo
Detective Hightower and I turned in unison to face Graham.
He looked irritatingly good. His dark hair curled around the collar of the thick-knit fisherman’s sweater he wore. The white wool offset his bronzed skin. He could’ve passed for a J.Crew model — until you looked into his eyes. They were so sharp as they swept up the length of my body, they seemed to pierce every exposed slice of skin.
A shiver moved down my spine as our gazes tangled. The memory of the last time I’d seen him sizzled hot in the air between us. He didn’t say a word to me; he didn’t need to. His silence alone was enough to make my knees quake.
“I wouldn’t dream of it, Graves,” Caden drawled finally, shattering the thick tension. “She’s all yours… when it comes to the case, at least.”
Graham’s jaw tightened in an alarming way as his eyes shifted to the detective’s, blue and green clashing together like swords on a battlefield. Their poses were mirror images — feet planted, arms crossed over chests, expressions devoid of all warmth. My discomfort grew as the silence stretched on. Neither seemed particularly inclined to end it.
“Thought we had an understanding,” Graham said eventually.
“Your jurisdiction covers the case,” Cade returned. “Doesn’t extend beyond that, as far as I’m aware.”
“Then adjust your awareness.”
My eyes volleyed back and forth between them as their sparring match grew more and more hostile.
“Here I thought you were a professional, Hightower.”
“Nothing unprofessional happening in my eyes, Graves.”