The last thing I felt before I fell back asleep was Cade’s smile against my skin.
* * *
When I woke up in the morning, Cade was gone.
Again.
For the second day in a row.
I didn’t like how we’d left things last night. Were we still in a fight? I didn’t think we were. Most of my anger had melted away while he held me as we slept. And whatever small shred remained disappeared when I walked into his kitchen and spotted the evidence box sitting on the island.
THURMANwas written on the side in blocky black marker.
My eyes prickled, a telltale sign of impending tears. He must’ve gone to the station last night after he was done with the search. Even though he’d had a horrible day. Even though he was dead tired. He’d still made a special trip. Gone out of his way. Dug through god only knew how many files to find this.
For me.
I totally should’ve slept naked.
Before I could even fully process the monumental gesture that was the evidence box, I heard a loud, rhythmic beeping sound coming from outside. I wandered to the front of the house, Socks shadowing my every step, and pulled open the front door. To my surprise, a bright yellow tow truck was in the process of lowering my shitbox car into Cade’s driveway. I rushed barefoot out into the cold morning, rubbing the goosebumps from my forearms and wishing I’d pulled on something other than my denim cut-offs when I got up.
“Hey!” I waved down the driver as he detached his rig from the undercarriage. “That’s my car!”
The man in coveralls glanced with undisguised disgust at my vehicle. “Congrats,” he said drolly.
“Is it fixed?”
“Fixed is a relative term. It runs, if that’s what you mean.”
“That’s what I mean.”
“Then you’re in luck.”
He lobbed the keys at me. Springing into motion, I managed to catch them before they careened to the ground.
“What do I owe?” I asked, somewhat dreading his answer. “Do I pay you directly or will Puck send me a bill?”
“It’s covered.”
My brows sailed upward. “What?”
“The repairs,” he said with a shrug. “They’re covered. Paid for. You’re square.”
“But— But— ” I spluttered. “I haven’t paid anything!”
He nodded and glanced at the clipboard in his hand. “Bill was paid by one Detective Cade Hightower.”
“What?!” I shrieked. “Why would he pay? It’s not even his car! That’s crazy!”
The man pinned me with an amused look. “Guessing the fact that you’re standing there on Cade Hightower’s front walk wearing Cade Hightower’s shirt with Cade Hightower’s dog sitting on your feet is a pretty good indication of why that bill is paid. You have further issues with the matter… I suggest you take it up with one Detective Cade Hightower.”
My mouth was hanging open — which left me woefully unequipped to formulate a reply as the man turned around, got in his truck, and drove off.
Blast.
Snapping my fingers at Socks, I marched back up the walk into the house. I proceeded to march straight into the kitchen, where I tossed my keys onto the island with a loud clatter.
“Bossy, overbearing, madman,” I muttered, running my hands though my messy hair. “That’s your Dad I’m talking about, for the record.”