Page 20 of Paws and Claws

Dominic crossed his arms, staring down at Tabitha as she straddled her motorcycle. "No way are we taking that death trap to follow Bruce. He knows your bike."

"Come on. What if we need a quick getaway?"

"The point is to not be noticed," he contested. "We'll follow on foot. And you need to cover up that hair."

"What's wrong with my hair?" Tabitha flipped her dark purple locks defiantly.

"Nothing. But it screams 'Here I am' from a mile away."

"Fine." She revved her engine. "But I'm not wearing anything dorky."

"Just a baseball cap. And normal clothes. No leather."

"You're taking all the fun out of being sneaky." She pointed at his uniform. "What about you, Officer Fashion Police?"

"I'll change into civilian clothes." The words felt strange in his mouth. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d worn anything other than his uniform.

"Meet you at nine behind the station?"

"Eight-thirty. And don't be late."

Tabitha zoomed off, leaving him in a cloud of exhaust. Dominic checked his watch - plenty of time to go home and find something inconspicuous to wear.

Later that night, Dominic paced behind the station, checking his watch again. 8:45. Of course she was late.

"Miss me?"

He turned to find Tabitha in jeans and a t-shirt, her purple hair tucked under a baseball cap in a ponytail. Something in his chest tightened. Without her usual makeup and leather, she looked... sweet. Almost innocent. Which was ridiculous because she was anything but.

"You're late," he growled, trying to ignore how the moonlight caught her eyes.

"Fashion emergency. These normal clothes are harder to coordinate than you'd think." She tugged at the cap. "I feel like a soccer mom."

"You look fine." More than fine, but he wasn't about to tell her that. "Now get down, Bruce usually leaves around nine."

They crouched behind some bushes. Tabitha's shoulder pressed against his arm, warm even through his henley. The scent of her shampoo - something floral and spicy - drifted up to him.

"There he is," she whispered.

Bruce emerged from the station, got in his car, and drove off. They followed at a distance, staying in the shadows.

"The grocery store? Seriously?" Tabitha muttered an hour later as they watched Bruce examining produce. "I was hoping for something more sinister than picking out tomatoes."

"Patience," Dominic said, though he shared her frustration.

They tailed Bruce home, where he did nothing more suspicious than watch TV through his front window before turning in for the night.

"Well, that was anticlimactic," Tabitha sighed.

Dominic walked beside Tabitha as they soon approached her house, his long strides matching her shorter ones. The night air carried the scent of jasmine from her neighbor's garden, mixing with her own unique fragrance that he'd grown oddly accustomed to over the past few hours.

"We'll try again tomorrow," he said, stopping at her front porch. "Bruce has to slip up eventually."

"Sure you don't want to come in for coffee?" Tabitha's eyes sparkled with mischief. "I promise not to corrupt you too much."

"Goodnight, Tabitha." He kept his voice stern, though his lips twitched.

She shrugged and bounded up the steps. "Your loss, Sheriff."

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