Page 39 of Meant to Be
Chapter Eight
Sydney unlockedthe front door of her apartment. How had she let Mitch talk her into going home with him? He admitted to being angry and bitter, so why not pawn her off on some other poor cop to babysit? Did he want to continue to hassle her? She was getting tired of it and decided she’d call him on it the next time he whined at her about the wrong she’d done him. Clearly, he was too dense to see his own part in their breakup, and she wasn’t going to endure his adolescent complaints anymore.
“I’ll just grab a few things.” She pushed through the door and headed to her bedroom. She grabbed her overnight bag and started throwing clothes in. How many nights would she be there? One? Two? Maybe forever?Oh, good God, Syd.He’d been so sweet and comforting while she shared her story. He’d embraced her as she cried, held her hand to bolster her confidence. She knew it was just the cop in him trying to help a victim, but her heart hoped it meant something else. How was it a little part of her still longed for him?
Deciding it could be a couple of days, she tossed in undergarments, a pair of shorts, a pair of jeans, two T-shirts, and two dresses for work from her closet. Finally, she grabbed her running shoes, shorts, and sports tops. No sense in not exercising, especially now her life was in turmoil. Running was the one time she could clear her mind and let life slip away.
When she re-emerged from her bedroom, Mitch was scanning her bookshelves. “Still a big romance fan, eh?”
“Yes.” She waited for his inevitable snark about reading fluff.
Instead, he turned to her. “Ready?”
She scanned her apartment to see if there was anything else she should take. Her gaze stopped on the moonshine. Deciding she needed it, she entered her kitchen and grabbed the bottle by the stem. As she did, her box of unicorn cookies caught her eye. She needed that too. Hoisting her overnight bag more securely over her shoulder, she snatched the box of cookies and headed back to Mitch. “Ready.”
His brows rose at the sight of her. “What are you, eight?” He nodded toward the cookies.
“I like them.” She bit out the words.
“I see you have something to wash them down with.”
“Usually I have milk, but tonight calls for something stronger.”
He took the bottle from her and studied the label. “Moonshine isn’t really moonshine unless it’s made in a hollow by the glow of the moon.”
“I’m new in town. I don’t know the clandestine moonshine spots yet.” She grabbed the bottle back.
He grinned. “I know a guy who knows a guy who sells it from the trunk of his car in the parking lot of the county jail.”
She didn’t believe him, and her face must have shown it.
“No, really. And it’s good. Maybe I’ll hook you up.”
“Isn’t it illegal?”
He nodded.
“But he sells it in the jail parking lot.”
“Yep.” He held his hand up. “Scouts honor. In the south, we like our crazy and our rebels.”
“So I’ve been learning.”
He stepped back, taking his phone from his pocket. Holding it up, he snapped a photo.
“Did you just take a picture of me?” Just what she needed. A viral picture of her, a prominent doctor, washing down unicorn cookies with moonshine.
“Proof you’re starting to fit in.” He slipped his phone back in his jacket then reached to take her bag. “Let me carry that. You can keep the precious cargo.”
She smirked, until he turned to leave. Then she smiled. He might be bitter and angry, but he was warming to her. Not that it would lead anywhere. But she was starting to see glimpses of the Mitch she’d fallen in love with in college.
Mitch pulledinto the driveway of his quaint craftsman-style home. They had switched out his work vehicle for his truck after their trip to the diner.
Although night was falling, it was light enough for Sydney to see the gray stucco with crisp white trim and red door. Mitch helped her from his truck, carrying her bag, as he led the way up the steps to a wide porch with potted blooms, plastic chairs, and a swing. Although she’d seen the house on her previous stalking drive-bys, it still surprised her. It wasn’t what she expected for Mitch.
“Your home is lovely.”
“Thanks.” Mitch unlocked the front door. “It used to be my grandparents’ until they moved to Florida.”
