Page 24 of Heart Me Up
He nodded. “Yeah, I felt pretty lucky. Anyway, since I was on light duty for a while I got assigned to run errands for an FBI task force working out of the precinct. Malcolm was on the task force. He’s a forensic accountant for the FBI, and part of the M.O. of the serial killer they were tracking was to force his victims to transfer money to an offshore account before he killed them. But he’d move the money right away so Malcolm was trying to trace where it went.”
Foster made a face. “I was basically a glorified gofer, but the process they went through was fascinating. Malcolm and I started hanging out after work, and we’ve been friends ever since, even though he lives in San Antonio.” He paused. “At least he used to. His lease was about to be up when he went on assignment, so he asked me to put all of his furniture in storage. I’ve got some of his other stuff in my spare bedroom.” He smiled. “Mariposa took a little while to warm up to living with me, but we’re best buds now.”
“Doeson assignmentmean he’s undercover?” Foster shrugged, so I gathered he wasn’t allowed to say. “Wait a minute. Did they ever catch the killer?”
He shook his head. “Unfortunately, no. Mal couldn’t trace the money, and the clues dried up. After several weeks went by with no new victims, the task force concluded he’d either died, been put in prison or just stopped killing for whatever reason.”
I shivered. “It’s scary, thinking he might still be out there somewhere.”
Foster made a face. “Yeah. I hope he’s dead.” Me too.
Was it horrible that wishing a serial killer was dead reminded me to ask Foster what had happened with Silvia and Corrie? Foster seemed to think so, since he laughed when I asked.
“Silvia told me Corrie tried to deny everything at first but finally admitted to hanging out with her mom, who is, by the way, doing drugs again. Silvia gave Corrie the option to stay if she avoided seeing her mother, but Corrie refused so Silvia kicked her out.”
I made a sympathetic noise. “Wow, that must have been hard for Silvia. I hope Corrie wises up and doesn’t get involved with drugs herself.” I’d only met Corrie a couple of times when she’d worked at the pet resort. No matter how she’d behaved toward us as an employee, I hated thinking of her being around drug use because that was the only way she could have a relationship with her mother.
Foster stirred his milkshake and nodded. “Silvia’s worried sick, but she’s smart enough to know she can’t have Corrie around if she’s hanging out with her mother’s crowd.”
I was grateful when Foster changed the topic and we debated the merits of our favorite 80s bands and musicians. Unless you had satellite radio, something about the rocky hills surrounding Bent Oak made it hard to get reception to any station other than our local one. They played all 80s music, so almost everyone in Bent Oak was knowledgeable on the subject.
The server took our plates away, and I decided it was time I learned more about Foster. “Hey, you know about my depressing dating history. Is yours happier at least?”
One corner of Foster’s mouth turned up. It was sexy as fuck. “I guess. I’ve had three boyfriends over the years, but none of them worked out. Nothing dramatic, we just weren’t right for each other. My last ex, Eric, he’s a state trooper and we’re still on good terms. He’s been dating a new guy for a few months now.” I envied Foster his lack of angst about his breakups. He quirked up his mouth again. “I’m on the hunt for boyfriend number four, if you know any candidates.”
Before I could respond, the server was back. “Do you guys want any dessert?” I surveyed the table. Neither of us had finished our milkshakes.
“What’ve you got?” Foster wanted to know. How he planned to eat dessert after a milkshake and cleaning his own plate, I did not understand. I declined when he asked if I wanted any, but he ordered a slice of chocolate cake, “And two forks,” he told the server. No way; I’d explode.
When the cake was on the table between us, Foster held out a fork. “You don’t have to use it; just hold onto it,” he told me. And then he proceeded to eat the cake. Or, it turned out, he licked at it.
Foster’s evil method of dessert-eating involved scooping the thinnest sliver of cake, or more often of icing, on the fork before running the tines along his tongue to get the cake and/or icing into his mouth. All while maintaining constant eye contact, of course.
Well fuck, I wasn’t too full to play this game.
I carefully cut the tiniest portion of cake I could manage onto my fork. When I was able to securely lift it without the cake falling, I stared into Foster’s eyes as I laid the fork against my tongue. Unfortunately I started with the wrong side of the fork, so the cake fell out of my mouth onto the napkin in my lap. It wasn’t the least bit sexy.
But Foster seemed to have enjoyed it, based on the half-smile on his lips and the hand that snaked across the table to grasp mine.
I was on my third more successful “bite” when the server came over and, clearing his throat, said, “Um, we need this table so we’re giving you a free slice of cake. You canpleasetake it to go.” Startled I glanced around. Only about half of the tables in the entire diner were occupied, but a manager-type guy was glaring at Foster and me from the door to the kitchen. The server placed a to-go box on the table.
Smirking, Foster thanked him and reached for his wallet. I started to go for mine as well but Foster said, “I got this,” and pulled out some cash, including a generous tip for our poor server.
I grabbed the box, and we fled the diner, holding hands and laughing like assholes the entire way to the car.
* * *
When we reached Foster’s car, I tried to let go of his hand so I could go around to the passenger side. He clung harder and pulled me toward him until I landed with an “Oomph” against his chest.
He smiled down at me and whispered, “Hi.”
I smiled back. “Hi.”
“I’ve been wanting to do this all night.”
I met him halfway. Our lips moved together like we’d kissed a thousand times instead of just once. When Foster’s tongue touched mine, tasting like chocolate and Foster, my dick reminded me we hadn’t gotten laid in over two years and it was rarin’ to go.
Foster pulled back. I may have chased his mouth with mine, and I may have possibly, probably, made a whiny noise at the same time.
