Page 164 of Detectives in Love
We fall quiet again. A couple of minutes later, the waitress comes back with a tray. She sets down two coffees, a saucer with a lemon slice, and a plate holding a piece of cherry pie.
“On the house,” she says, smiling right at me.
“Oh,” I say, a little surprised—it’s exactly the one I was eyeing earlier. “That’s really kind of you.”
“I would’ve brought two, but that was the last slice,” she adds, tossing Xavier a quick glance—nowhere near apologetic.
“It’s fine—” he says, jaw tight, but I cut in.
“We’ll share,” I say, flashing him a grin. “Right, baby?”
I mostly say it to mess with the waitress—but it’s Xavier who gets thrown off. His eyes go wide, color rising fast in his cheeks, his whole expression stunned.
“Great,” the waitress says, flashing us both a wide, clearly fake smile before hurrying out of the room.
Once she’s gone, I say, “Sorry about that.” Now that we’re alone, I feel a little stupid for the whole thing. “She was kind of rude to you, so I—”
Xavier kisses me. No warning. Just shuts me up with his mouth against mine and his hand in my hair. It’s a thank-you kiss—I can feel that—but it’s heated too. It lingers for a few long seconds before we both pull back, breathing hard, acutely aware that the woman dying to write another little gossip piece about our love life could walk in any minute.
“What was that for?” I ask after a beat, smiling, still a little breathless.
“For the pie,” Xavier says, deadpan. Then, after a beat: “For everything. Especially for annoying Ernest this morning—I thought he was going to have a stroke.”
I laugh. “Don’t be too hard on him. Today’s the day I actually kinda started to like him.”
“Really?” Xavier raises an eyebrow, shaking his head. “After he offered you money so you wouldn’t—” He trails off,flustered, clearly a little pissed, searching for the right word. “You know.”
“Ah.” I wince. “So you heard everything.”
“Some of it,” Xavier says, noncommittal. “I knew he’d embarrass himself.”
“He did,” I snort. “But his heart’s in the right place.”
I hesitate, wondering if I should leave it there. But pushing things with Xavier lately has been…kind of exhilarating.
“He’s sure I’m going to break your heart,” I add.
Xavier smirks at that, something dark flickering behind it. “Well, maybe he’s not as crazy as I thought.”
I frown, not quite following. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
But before I can press him on it, the door opens. I glance over, expecting the waitress—and feel my stomach drop.
It’s Selena Hast, all bright magenta coat and too much enthusiasm.
“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” she says, beaming like she wasn’t entirely sure we’d show. “Great to see you!”
“Hello,” I reply, keeping my tone cool. I know her type—be polite now, and I’ll regret it later.
We shake hands, and she slides into the seat across from us. Her cloying perfume fills the booth, thick and artificial, like something chemical in the air.
“So,” she says, setting a snakeskin bag on the table and pulling a small black voice recorder from her coat pocket, “Iwon’t take much of your time, so let’s cut to the chase. Any questions before we start?”
“Yeah,” I say, not missing a beat. “How do we know you’re not making this up? That you actually have real information about whoever sent you the tracker?”
“You don’t,” she says, one corner of her mouth lifting. “But I give you my word.”
Xavier lets out a quiet snort, and Selena turns to him, her expression sharpening. “That might not mean much to you, but it does to me. So—once you answer a few of my questions, I’ll tell you how I got the tracker.”
