Page 26 of Cream and Punishment
I groaned in frustration. If this was any indication of how the rest of the day was going to go, I was so screwed. “I’m sorry. You should probably give me a wider berth, for your own safety.”
As ifthe incidentwasn’t evidence enough of that. Maybe I could wrap myself in caution tape. It seemed like the responsible thing to do at this point.
“I see now why you’ve only needed an umbrella for self-defense,” he teased. “You’re a force to be reckoned with.”
“Something like that.”
And by that I meantnothing like that.
To keep myself from assaulting a federal officer again, I stepped a good three feet further from him before continuing my brisk pace toward the bakery. “So what were you saying? When I interrupted you with my creepy invasive question.”
He chuckled. “I was asking how you like your coffee.”
I narrowed my eyes, my brain already spinning through all the possible reasons he would want to know that. Was he going to sneak some laxatives in? Hide raisins in the bottom? Something equally as heinous?
Wait. No catastrophizing. He didn’tsayhe was going to drug me, so this could be an innocent question all along. The odds of that felt astronomical, but I was a woman of my word.
“If I’m getting it at a cafe? I like the Frappuccinos,” I finally answered, my voice embarrassingly breathless. If I could make it through this conversation without wheezing, I’d consider it a win. “I mean, a milkshakeandcaffeine? Sign me up. And if I’m making the coffee myself, I like anything that’s more cream than coffee. I’m not picky, really. What about you?”
“Medium roast with hazelnut creamer,” he declared, sounding oddly pleased. Maybe he took his coffee selection very seriously? “And if I’m getting it at a cafe, I think I like mochas.”
I smiled despite my heavy breathing. “Ah,hot chocolatewith caffeine. Great choice.”
“Thanks.” He laughed softly. “It took a while to find a favorite.”
“I know what you mean. The combinations are endless.”
And intimidating. Even now, I ordered the exact same thing every time because I knew I liked it, even though it had only been the second drink order I’d ever tried from a cafe. Lex teased me about being too scared to try the seasonal flavors, but I liked to think it was because I simply knew what I liked.
When he didn’t break away as we passed the parking lot, his morning walk suddenly made sense.
“You wouldn’t be walking to the bakery by any chance, would you?” I asked, not bothering to hide the suspicion in my voice.
“It’s a scenic route, don’t you think?”
“Maybe if the scenery you’re looking for is a bunch of darkness, yes. But that doesn’t answer my question.”
He sighed, otherwise not sounding the least bit exhausted. Figures. “Alright, yes. I know you can take care of yourself, Dekker. But anything can happen. And I’d never be able to live with myself if something happened to you and I could’ve prevented it.”
“Oh.”
It wasn’t the most eloquent response by far, but it captured my conflicted feelings better than anything else I could come up with. He didn’t want something bad to happen to me? At all, or becausehewanted to be the one to get back at me? If it was the former, his duty as a man of the law was undoubtedly to thank, and not any warm fuzzies he might feel toward me, right?
“Thank you,” I finally managed. Whatever his motivations, the fact remained that he’d chosen to walk with me and make sure I made it to the bakery safely.
“Of course.” He nudged me playfully on the arm. When had he gravitated closer? And why? “I don’t want to go through the pain of helpinganothernew neighbor move into your apartment, so it’s in my best interest to keep you alive.”
“Wow, thanks.” Despite myself, I laughed. And consciously kept my brain from overanalyzing. Maybe he hated me like he should. Maybe he didn’t. For now, I’d just exist in the moment. “Have you decided what new hobby you’re going to try next?”
A few beats passed in relative silence before he answered, the crunch of our shoes and the distant sounds of cars on the highway the only disturbances. “You know, I think I want to try pickleball. I figure it’s only fair if I’m recommending it to others, right?”
I shrugged. “Makes sense to me.”
Somehow, I’d managed to keep myself from obsessing about his motives too much the rest of the way to the bakery. Most of it was filled with small talk. The weather. Surface-level questions about how our jobs were going. The usual stuff—safe and manageable. And by the time the motion-activated lights turned on, we’d been walking in strangely comfortable silence for half a block.
Max held back, giving me space to unlock the door and disarm Gale’s security system. When I turned back to thank him again, he broke the silence first. “I’ve been thinking about your question, actually. The one about rejection.”
I cringed. “You don’t have to answer that. I shouldn’t have asked.”
