Page 21 of Pack Coffey

"It's a big event around here. Lots of people go," he says slowly.

I perk up at this. "You think the killer might be there, don't you?"

Dipping his chin once, he replies, "Yes, I do."

"So, this is like some undercover, dangerous, official police business, huh?" I ask, more excited than I should be.

He sighs, "I know. I shouldn't be putting you in danger. I suck at this, but we agreed---"

"The case comes first," I finish for him. "Absolutely."

"I need a cover. I'm just a regular guy, taking his girlfriend on a date," he says.

I can't explain why, but him saying it like that makes me sad. Do I want the case to come first? One thousand percent.Does it still sting a little that he's only doing this and calling me his girlfriend because of the case? Yes, to that, too. Standing, I go to walk by him, asking for a few minutes to get ready.

He grabs my hand before I make it past him. "Real dates as my girlfriend once this is over, yes?"

With the sting not hurting so bad, I nod, smiling softly before going to change my clothes. I dress to match him in jeans and a long sleeve shirt, knowing it's supposed to get cool tonight. When I come back into the room, he's over by the window checking the locks on it.

"I check those every day," I tell him.

"Good," he says. "Doesn't hurt to check them twice."

I don't argue with him, because I agree, it doesn't. Grabbing my phone and some cash out of my wallet, I stuff them in my pockets and grab a jacket.

"Ready?" he asks.

"As I'll ever be," I retort.

On the ride over, I ask him continuous questions about the things we need to be looking for and how I might be able to spot someone acting suspicious. He humors me, answering all of the questions that I have. I don't tell him that I'm nervous. Not about what we're doing, but doing a bad job and disappointing him. I tuck it all deep down, and put myself in the shoes of a girlfriend simply enjoying the evening with her boyfriend. Which is all acting in itself, too, because how does someone who's never had a true boyfriend know what to do?

I wait until Saint gets out and comes around to open my door for me. He leans in to put his mouth close to my ear. "You ready?"

His sweet, cinnamon scent drowns me for a second, completely shutting down my brain. My eyes closed as he was speaking, and they're slow to open back up so that I can look at him. I nod, and he takes my hand. We spend the next fewhours walking around hand in hand. Saint buys us corn dogs and lemonade then cotton candy. Thankfully, after we ride the Ferris wheel and this other spinning ride. Because the latter just about made me sick. I didn't even know that I could get motion sick. After all of that, we come to a small stand promising a prize for everyone. All we've got to do is throw a small bean bag in an even smaller hole. A secret I've never had the chance to ever tell anyone is that I used to play cornhole in my parent's backyard for fun. So, this game is easy. Saint, of course, makes it look even easier. He's like a dang professional, hitting his hole every single time. The man hands him three more bags and says that if he hits every one, he can take home whatever prize he wants. Sounds kind of like cheating, because he hit all of them with the ones he paid for. Saint plays along, though, not missing a single one.

When the guy asks him which prize he wants, he turns to me, "What'll it be, babe?"

My heart trips over itself, making me point to the first thing in sight. A giant, furry black bear with a tiny red heart on his chest. "That one."

The guy hands it to Saint to give to me. Excited whether this is real or not, I reach up on my toes and press my lips against his cheek. We walk around a bit more afterwards, coming across a live band toward the back of the festival. They've got a dance floor laid out where couples are enjoying each other with the music.

"Care to dance?" Saint asks, reaching out a hand for me.

"Sure," I tell him, finding an empty chair to set my prize in before adding, "I have to warn you, though, I've been told that I have two left feet."

He barks out a laugh as he leads us to the floor. In a move straight out of the movies, he spins me quickly then pulls me back to him. It steals my breath as I look up into his gaze.

"Maybe you just didn't have the right partner," he says, his smile growing as our feet move.

Hell, maybe he's right. He takes us around the dancefloor, spinning and dipping me in ways I never ever saw myself being able to do. As much as I'm enjoying it, I'm grateful when the song switches to a slow one. Not only because it gives me the chance to take stock of our surroundings better and the people around us, but I need a quick break from the spins. I'm not sure I'm fully recovered from the ride.

I lay my head sideways on his chest, people watching as I tell him, "Thank you for tonight. It's been fun."

His sigh is deep and blows his hot breath through my hair at my ear. "It really has. I don't do stuff like this anymore."

I pull back to look at him. "Why not?"

He shrugs beneath my hands. "Stay so busy, I guess. Besides, this job sometimes ages you mentally and wears you down sometimes."

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