Page 15 of Playing With Danger

I wasn’t in debt. I had a savings account. I didn’t gamble, steal, cheat. I paid my taxes. I owned my car outright. I didn’t do drugs, never had tried any, and only drank responsibly. I’d never been arrested or had any run-ins with the police. I’d been an obedient daughter. I’d never snuck out of the house, taken her car for an underaged joyride, thrown wild parties. Sure, I’d talked back as a teenager—on occasion I’d been what my mother called cheeky—but I’d never been disrespectful and I’d been a good student.

Yet, I still wasn’t good enough.

With my mind full of my mother I’d missed Valentine stopping at the side of my car but I didn’t miss him tapping on the window.

After my embarrassing run-in with his penis and my mother spreading her joyous love, I wasn’t in the mood to face Hot Cop.

His head tipped a fraction, his eyes roamed my face, and for a moment I wished I knew what he was thinking as he studied me. That wish was granted when he, uninvited, opened my door.

“What’s wrong?”

Before I could answer Valentine—not that I was planning on telling him a single one of the many ‘wrongs’ that were swirling in my mind—his gaze shifted from me to the interior of my car.

“C’mon, honey, let’s get you your coffee.”

I didn’t get a chance to answer that either, since he reached in, hit the stupid button that all new cars had to shut off the engine (sidenote: I missed a regular key in the ignition start) unbuckled my belt, grabbed my purse off the passenger seat, and pulled me out of the car.

“Key in your purse?”

I nodded.

“Will it lock automatically?”

I nodded again.

After that I was walking hand-in-hand with Valentine while he carried my hot-pink Valentino crossbody with gold chains and buckle I’d bought from TJ Maxx during a seriously great sale. After speaking to She-Devil, that being after I spent the night in her home sharing a meal, then going back to my apartment and spending the rest of my night bitching to Hayden about her, meaning it had been a She-Devil bitchfest until late into the evening. Further meaning I’d spent a lot of time thinking about my mother which was never fun. Thus I was surprised when I smiled.

Hot Cop Valentine carrying my hot pink Valentino.

At this point in my life it was the little things.

I was holding onto anything and everything I found amusing. If I didn’t I would lose my mind.

It wasn’t until we were next in line when Valentine asked me what I wanted.

“Coffee,” I told him.

“Right. Anything special?”

“Does coffee come with extra caffeine and a splash of GFY?”

Valentine’s smile said he knew what the abbreviation stood for.

“Not sure about the go fuck yourself but I can hook you up with extra caffeine,” he said quietly.

The man in front of us stepped to the side. Valentine shuffled me forward and I was met with a beaming smile from the barista who had helped me yesterday.

“Hey, Valentine. Hey, Sophie,” she chirped. “Your usual?”

“Hey, Crystal. Make it two, extra shot in Sophie’s.”

Her eyes widened comically.

“Oh, boy, hope you’re not planning on sleeping tonight, girl,” she mumbled.

Valentine handed her his card, tossed a ten spot in the tip jar. I’d waited tables in my twenties, my best friend was a bartender, I was a generous tipper, and while I couldn’t math in my head that quickly by my calculations that was a seventy percent tip.

“What did you order me?” I asked.

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