Page 31 of Tequila Tuesdays

“How’s Dickie doing?” he asked.

“He sounds horrible. He has bronchitis, but he’s bored, and he still wanted me to tell him about my case. He had some useful information.”

Damien shook his head. “I’m not surprised. He smokes and drinks like a fish, but he’ll probably outlive us all. Tell me about your case.”

So I told him about Shanda and her little sister, and I outlined what I knew about Jason.

“You’re worried about her?” he asked.

I nodded. “She just turned eighteen two months ago, and she’s been missing for almost two weeks. Her home life is horrible.”

We made it to the restaurant, and the host seated us in a booth by the window. The restaurant wasn’t fancy or pretentious, but it was cozy, and the food was fresh and delicious. I loved the flowers in the pots at the entrance and the arched gate with orange trumpet vines. I ordered a glass of the house red wine and shrimp linguine, and Damien ordered the oven-baked sea bass.

When the server left, I took off my jacket and pulled my hair out of the French twist, then rubbed my scalp with my fingers. I hummed a little in pleasure. “I’ve been wanting to do that all day.”

He leaned back in his seat and watched me with hooded eyes. His look felt intimate and made my insides tighten. This almost felt like a date or a romantic evening with a lover. It wasn’t either of those things, and I needed to rein it in.

I straightened up. “Let me tell you a little more about the case.”

The server came by with my wine, and I took a sip. Then I told him about the car accident and the video I’d shown Shanda. We also discussed Jason’s extensive criminal history.

I took another sip of wine. “Shanda was genuinely scared when I called her out on her lie. Then we walked over to the coffee shop, and she finally told me about her little sister and how worried she was.”

Damien’s mouth tightened. “You think that fucker threatened her little sister.”

I nodded slowly. “I’d bet a large amount of money on it. The last thing she said to me was Jason is crazy and fucking scary. Her words, not mine.”

He reached over and grabbed my hand. “We’ll find her. Give me whatever you can about her, and I’ll send out a few feelers and see if I can track her down on social media.”

He ran his thumb across the back of my knuckles, and my insides clenched at the soft contact. The server came with our food just then, and Damien let go of my hand. We ate in companionable silence, each lost in our thoughts.

“You want a taste of my sea bass?” he asked, scooping up a forkful and bringing it across the table to my lips. It looked good, so I opened my mouth and took the bite.

“Thank you. That’s delicious.” I used my spoon and fork to roll some linguine, then leaned over and put it on his plate along with a couple of shrimp.

“Thanks, Legs.” He smiled and his dimple popped. My vagina spasmed, and I clenched my thighs together and grabbed my wine glass to take another sip. I needed to stay away from this man. I just didn’t want to anymore.

Chapter 12

OnThursdaymorning,Damienwas waiting for me when I got to the gym.

“I thought we could get sweaty together this morning and strategize about Shanda’s case.”

Heat rolled through me at the thought of getting sweaty with him in other ways. I gave him a quick once over as he stood there in his workout shorts and a black moister-wicking muscle shirt. My cheeks started burning, and I looked away.

“Sounds like a plan. What do you have for me?” I asked, finally looking up at him.

He grinned. “I have a lot of things for you, Legs. But getting back to the case, I think the best way to track her down is through her social media.”

We walked toward the treadmills together. I was hyper-aware of him, and I’d never been so distracted during a workout. Even after we finished, he still looked and smelled so good.

His hair was damp and curled a little, and his biceps glistened. I used work as an excuse to take off right after we got done, but my mind was distracted, and I kept thinking about Damien the rest of the day. I was in so much trouble.

Sheila and Grace invited Ava and me over for Thanksgiving dinner the following week. I was grateful for their invitation, but I would have been happy to skip Thanksgiving.

It was my least favorite holiday, and this year I dreaded it even more because Olivia, my sister, wouldn’t be there to act as a buffer. She planned to come home at the end of the semester in mid-December, but she couldn’t get away for Thanksgiving. I called her again on Wednesday evening just to complain.

“Ollie, come home,” I whined as soon as she answered the phone. “I’ll pay for your ticket. Just bring your homework. I don’t want to do Thanksgiving without you.”

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