Page 20 of Pack Coffey

Turning, he crosses his arms over his chest and leans back against the wall with a grin. "Yeah, you are."

"Hmm," I murmur, moving to stand next to the window that looks out over the city. "I emailed you once a couple years ago, but you never responded."

"I don't remember that," he admits, coming up next to me and brushing our elbows together. "I'm sorry that I didn't. Not to make an excuse, but I get a lot of corresponding emails. What was it in regards to?"

"This case I was researching," I lie. I want to tell him the truth and it is on the tip of my tongue, but the words just spill out before I can stop them. "Not a big deal. I just thought it was pretty wild meeting you in person."

"Now courting you," he says quietly, eyes flicking over to me.

I turn and smile at him. "Exactly. You're kind of one of my heroes. Instead of focusing on the murderer like most papers do, you gave the victims part of their justice."

He nods, "Took a bad hit for that here, too. My boss was angry."

"Yeah, I bet," I tell him. "Too different and worried it wouldn't sell probably."

This time his smile is sad. "So, do we want to get started on what you came here to do?"

Tamping down my own feelings, I focus on what's important. "Yes, please."

Henry makes his way back over to the door, stopping athis desk first. He grabs a business card out of the little holder and pauses to write something on it before handing it to me. "Just in case you ever need anything again."

I take it with another kiss to his cheek. Pulling out my phone, I call the cell number that he just wrote down and wait until I hear his phone vibrating. "That's me, so you have mine too now."

Just as his hand closes on the door handle, I add, "Thank you, Henry."

"Anytime, love," he says.

My belly flips at the pet name. One more thing on my list of nevers.TheHenry Upton calling me ‘love.’ I can't help how high I hold my head as I follow him out.

Chapter Seven

For two weeks, there's complete silence on the case. There aren't any new leads, and thankfully, no other bodies have been found. I've not spent a ton of time with the pack, either. Between classes, my podcast, and shifts at the station, I've stayed busy. Lawrence, of course, joined me again in the studio for my shifts. This past weekend, Henry came with on Friday night. Then Banks came with him Saturday. They said it was because they were bored and wanted something to do, but Lawrence quickly called them out on the little white lie, saying it's actually because they wanted to see me. It's really weird, because as much as I've always been my own independent person, I've missed them, too. To the point where I've hugged Lawrence every day that I've seen him, and breathe in all of their scents off of him.

It's Friday afternoon and I've just finished editing my latest podcast episode when I hear a vehicle crunching down the gravel of my driveway. I stand to stretch and go look out to see who it is. The SUV has just stopped when Saint hops out and makes his way to the door. I pop it open at the same time he raises his hand to knock.

"Hi," I tell him, crossing my arms over my chest and leaning my shoulder onto the frame.

"Hey," he starts. "Sorry, I tried to call, but it kept going to voicemail."

I glance over my shoulder at my phone lying beside my bag on the couch. "Oops, my bad. I always silence it when I'm recording. That way it doesn't accidentally interrupt me. Makes it easier to not try and edit out."

"I understand," he says.

"Want to come in?" I ask. I feel kind of like an ass, standing in the doorway and not letting him through. However, at the same time, he has my number and hasn't spoken to memuch at all this week. Only to let me know that there haven't been any new developments in the case and to check and see how I'm doing.

"Sure," he says, stepping inside when I move. "I was actually hoping that we could go out, though."

I shift my bag to the corner of the room, clearing up space on the couch and un-silencing my phone. "Where did you have in mind? Please tell me there wasn't another body found."

He shakes his head, taking a seat on my small couch. If I was a less-stronger-willed person, I may have giggled at big bad Saint sitting on a dainty, little, pale-green loveseat.

"No bodies since the last one, thankfully," he says. "There's a fall festival going on this weekend on the very edge of town. I was hoping you'd go with me."

"I can't," I tell him sadly. "I've got a shift tonight at the radio station."

"Lawrence is covering for you," he replies easily.

I fold my arms over my chest again and lean back. "What's the catch? Why are we really going?"

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