Page 29 of Beyond the Badge: Nox

He stopped and stared at her. “Where we going?”

“Nowhere. What I have to tell you I don’t want to say inside. Without any other customers, the two employees have no one to watch or listen to except for us. I prefer to keep what I’m about to tell you between us.”

He continued closer. “Is it that bad?”

“I don’t think so, but others may not have the same opinion. My car is more private.”

She clicked a button on her key fob and as soon as the doors unlocked, she slid in behind the steering wheel and placed her drink in a holder after taking a long sip.

Once she slammed the door shut, she powered down the window. “It’s now or never, Nox. I don’t have all night.”

He jerked into motion and rounded the car, folding his body into the passenger seat. The deep maroon four-door AMG GT was top quality. Not to mention, way above his budget.

But that wasn’t the only thing he noticed. The interior smelled like a combination of vanilla and chocolate.

“A car like this has a mortgage, not a car payment.”

“Or, if you’re successful enough, it has neither. Years ago, I learned the hard way not to buy things I can’t pay for outright.”

He just about choked on his own spit. “You bought this with cash?”

“You’re sitting in it, aren’t you?”

He pressed his lips together because her question almost made him grin.

Now that he gave Aaliyah his wife’s name, he expected her to press for more details. How did she die? When did she die? How old was she? Where was she?

When she turned in her seat to face him, he ran interference so that didn’t happen. “Why does your car smell like chocolate chip cookies?”

“One, I love to bake. Pies are usually my go-to. Two, I bake cookies a lot and bring them to open houses. The smell of freshly baked cookies makes a house smell more like a home. It helps the buyer envision themselves living in the house. Three, somehow, I always get stuck making something for the school bake sales. So, if it isn’t cookies, it’s brownies. If it isn’t brownies, it’s Rice Krispie treats. And if it’s for my father, it’s his favorite… Sweet potato pie.”

“Sweet potato pie?”

Her eyes widened. “You’ve never had it?”

“No.”

“Think pumpkin pie but better.”

“Nothing beats a homemade pumpkin pie.”

“You’re wrong. But then, you haven’t had my sweet potato pie.”

And he doubted he ever would.

“But we’re not sitting in my car to discuss what a baking goddess I am, are we?”

“We can’t discuss it since I haven’t tasted your pie.” He realized what he said when her lips curved and her eyes crinkled at the corners. He opened his mouth to reword it, then simply shook his head. It was better to simply let it go. “Who’s your father?”

“We’re going to skip the foreplay and go right for the down and dirty?”

“I thought that’s what the pie discussion was.”

Her smile blinded him. “Well, Officer Lennox, I think you might have a sense of humor buried somewhere deep inside you.”

It was impossible to bury it completely when dealing with his brothers. They were relentless when it came to ball-busting. A sense of humor was required, otherwise, you’d be offended. Their ability to give as good as they got was what made their bonds stronger.

“It comes in waves, doesn’t it?” she asked.

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