Page 9 of Blind Date With a Cop
The pastor smiles out at the congregation. “Now, everyone, turn around and greet your neighbors in the Lord’s house this morning.”
Cassie turns, and the instant her gaze collides with mine, her entire face changes. Her green eyes widen, her lips part in surprise. Color blooms across her cheeks, and the jolt that slams through me is enough to buckle my knees.
“Would you look at that,” I murmur, leaning forward so only she can hear. “Even God’s bringing us together.”
Her lips twitch. She tries to smother a smile, but it breaks free anyway, and for a split second, I let myself imagine leaning across the pew and kissing her right there in front of the whole congregation.
Instead, I offer my hand. “Good morning, neighbor.”
Her fingers slip into mine, warm and delicate, but there’s strength there, too. She squeezes once, then pulls back quickly,as if touching me burned her. Her grandmother glances over her shoulder, giving me a polite smile before turning back toward the front. Cassie swallows hard, turning, too, but I don’t miss the way her shoulders lift and fall with a deep exhale.
My grandmother leans in, whispering in my ear. “Isn’t that Mae Jenkins’ granddaughter?”
I school my expression, but inside, I’m lit up like fireworks. “Yes, ma’am. That’s her.”
“You should date her, Blakey.” My grandmother pats my arm. “She’s very pretty.”
I nearly laugh out loud, because if she only knew—Cassie isn’t justpretty. She’s the axis my world has started spinning on.
The service drones on, but I don’t hear any of it. I’m tuned in to every tiny move Cassie makes—the way her hair brushes the back of her sweater, the way she tilts her head during the prayers. And all the while, one thought pounds through me:She’s mine.
When the final hymn ends and the congregation starts to file out, I catch up quickly. Our grandmothers are chatting away, leaving Cassie standing next to me.
“What’s next, officer? Are you going to start lurking in grocery aisles and coffee shops, too?” she asks, arching a brow.
I chuckle, “No. If that were the case, I’d have tracked you down three days ago. I’ve been climbing the walls waiting for you to call.”
Her blush deepens. “Maybe I was waiting to see if you’d show up.”
I lean closer, dropping my voice. “Then it looks like we were both rewarded for our patience.”
She laughs softly, shaking her head, but the sound warms me all the way through. For the first time in days, I feel something unclench inside my chest.
Fate, God, coincidence—call it what you want. But as she turns to leave, her perfume lingering in the air, I know one thing with absolute certainty.
I’m not waiting another three days.
Chapter Seven
Cassie
My apartment smells like turpentine and frustration.
I’ve been standing in front of the canvas for an hour, brush in hand, telling myself I’m just experimenting with light and shadow, with masculine lines and texture.
But the truth stares back at me with every stroke of paint.
Broad shoulders. Square jaw. Dark eyes that don’t just look at me butthroughme.
It’s Blake. Of course it’s Blake.
“Ugh,” I mutter, tossing the brush into a jar. “This is ridiculous. He’s a cop, not a muse.”
Before I can turn the canvas to the wall, a knock rattles my door.
“Cassie? Sugar? It’s us!”
Perfect. Just what I need—a visit from Gran’s partners in crime.
