Page 70 of Always Murder

“That’s okay.I mean, I hate that I made you so mad.But it’s okay for you to have those emotions and communicate them to me.I’m so glad—” I almost said,I’m so glad you didn’t just go along with it, because that’s what the Bobby from the year before would have done.“I’m so glad you told me.”

He swallowed again, and it looked like he was fighting not to let his gaze slide away.His next words were rough.“Thank you, I guess.”He gave a raspy little laugh.“This is hard for me.And Iamsorry, Dash.”

“I’m sorry, too.”

His fingers brushed the hair on the side of my head and bumped over the earpiece of my glasses.“I want to kiss you now.”His breath was soft against my face.“Is that okay?”

“This is why you should have given me your gun, so I could have been in charge.”

Instead of responding, Bobby kissed me.Or maybe thatwashis response, because it was soft and questioning.When I kissed him back, I answered as best I could.Bobby did somemorekissing, and there wasn’t anything soft or questioning about it.It was a statement.And here’s the thing about Bobby Mai: he’s not always great with the words, but he has some very effective ways of getting his message across.

The problem, though, is that I will always be Dashiell Dawson Dane.That’s why, when Bobby pulled back, I had this horrible moment where I was fixing my glasses and trying to check my hair (too little, too late) and remembering how to breathe.And I blame all that multitasking for why I blurted, “I’m turning into my mother.”

He didn’t groan; that’s kind of the remarkable part.His eyebrows didn’t even go up.But it felt like a very long moment before he said, “Babe, I’ve worked, like, three doubles in a row.”

Laughter erupted out of me.“Rude!”

A hint of Bobby’s goofy grin slid out from behind the exhaustion.“Let me change; you get back in bed.”

I did, but only because my feet were cold.And because it was fun to watch Bobby take off his duty belt and his holster.

“All right,” he said as he locked up his gun.

“It’s not like Iwantto turn into my mom,” I said.“You get that, right?It’s happening against my will.”

He made a sound that could have meant anything.

“I was talking to Millie about all the stuff that’s been going on, with her family and with Keme and—and I might have had a breakthrough.It was awful.And I hated it.And it was totally unintentional, and I’ll never do it again.”

We had gotten to the part of the evening where the clothes came off.Bobby was so careful.He undid each button slowly and methodically as he said, “Why do you think you’re turning into your mother?”

“Because I did exactly what she did.Well, my dad too, so I guess I’m turning into both my parents.But it’s more horrifying if I say I’m turning into my mother.”

Bobby pulled off his shirt, and instead of wadding it up, he folded it neatly in half before slipping it into the hamper.He had broad shoulders narrowing to a trim waist, and the lamplight looked like liquid gold poured across his skin.“Is this a writing thing?”

“No, this is anusthing.The way I’ve been acting with you.Thinking I know what’s best for you.Having this vision of who you are and who you’re supposed to be.Making decisions for you.Not listening to you or caring what you want.Railroading you into this stupid detective thing.”

That was when he took his pants off.

I mean, obviously I didn’tactuallyswallow my tongue.But I must have made some kind of noise because he glanced over at me.

“You care what I want,” he said.

“But I didn’taskyou.That’s the important part.I made it all about me, about what I wanted, about the version of us that I made up in my head without, you know, consulting you.I just want you to know that I was honestly excited for you, Bobby.I meant what I said: you’re an amazing deputy.I know you don’t want to be a detective—”

“Of course I want to be a detective.”

“You do?”

Not the best question I’d ever asked in my life, but on the other hand, I was operating with about two percent brainpower because at that exact moment, Bobby hooked his black briefs, dragged them down, and threw them in the hamper.Then he stood there, all his attention focused on peeling off his socks.

As I’ve mentioned, Bobby doesn’t have any qualms about nudity.Not thatIhave any qualms about nudity, provided it's in the dark, or under the covers, or in a quick, mad dash from the shower to my towel.Bobby, on the other hand, once answered the door in nothing but a pair of shorts.Not even a shirt!The whole town talked about it for a month.(I made that last part up.)

Once the socks were safely in the hamper, Bobby stretched his arms over his head, muscles popping, and then padded toward the bed.

“I thought you were changing,” I said.

“I did change.”

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