Page 11 of Some Saviors Can Break You

She wasn't looking for anything serious, and even if she were, Eli would be the last person she’d be looking at for a happy ever after.

Florence knew that he wasn't good for her. He was sexy, charming, and rich. He would chew her up and spit her out, and she’d never recover from it. Her childhood had been rough, and if there was one thing she had learned from it, it was that all she wanted was stability in her personal life. It was one thing to risk her life at her job, but if she was going to go home to someone, she wanted it to be someone she could count on.

Stability had been something she had longed for as a child. That and food, running water, and electricity. She would have gladly gone without all of those things if she’d had someone to take care of her, look after her, and love her. But she and her brother Fletcher hadn't even had that.

Men like Eli didn't want someone like her. They wanted a woman who would wear pearls, and attend parties, and be content to be a trophy wife. That wasn't her. Even knowing she would never have to worry about being cold, or dirty, or hungry ever again, she couldn’t live her life as a trophy wife.

Which meant no Eli.

Because no way was she going to be his next roll in the hay, then watch him lose interest and walk away.

“What’re you thinking about?”

She started, realizing that she’d zoned out, and knew her cheeks had pinked in embarrassment.

That was all it took for a slow grin to spread across Jake’s face. “You met someone.”

They’d been partners for three years now, long enough to learn each other’s facial expressions and body language. “No, I didn't.”

“You’re fibbing,” he sing-songed.

Before she could insist, a delivery man with a bouquet of flowers in his arms walked over toward their desks.

“I'm looking for a Detective Florence Harris,” the young man said.

“I'm Florence.” She stood and closed the couple of steps between them.

“Then these are for you.” The man handed her the flowers and headed back toward the lifts.

“Thought you said you don’t have a new boyfriend,” Jake said, curiosity brimming in his voice.

“I don’t,” she insisted.

“Then who’s sending you flowers?”

Setting them down on her desk, she saw a small envelope taped to the colorful paper, and she pulled it off and slid a small piece of card from inside.

Florence, I'm looking forward to getting to know you better over coffee.

Hope you like the flowers, I chose snapdragons because they remind me of you; fierce and beautiful.

Your savior ;-)

Eli’s confidence knew no bounds. She’d told him again this morning that she wasn't going to go on a date with him, and yet instead of believing her, he was sending her flowers and continuing to insist that sooner or later she’d go out with him.

Her phone rang, and she picked it up cautiously when she saw that it was an unknown number. “Hello?”

“Did you like the flowers?” a cocky voice drawled in her ear.

“Eli. How did you get my number?” She had decided against giving him her card in case he remembered anything about the car or its driver because she hadn't wanted him to misinterpret it as an invitation to keep asking her out.

“I have my ways.”

“Did you have someone look into me?”

“So paranoid, darlin’. No, I didn't have to. I called the precinct and told them who I was and that I had thought of something else about last night and asked for your number so I could call you. They gave it to me. So, dinner tonight?”

“You’ve gone from coffee to dinner?”

---