Page 26 of Man Cuffed
Her eyes flare, but then disappear as she steps down and away from the fence.
A minute later I’m standing in her apartment, trying not to check out her ass while she rummages through a cabinet. “Aha! Found some! It wasn’t a given. In my apartment sugar is only used for Jell-O shots.”
“You don’t bake?”
She shakes her head. “Not that I should admit this to a cop, but I’m pretty sure the last thing I baked was a pan of pot brownies. But that was when I lived in Atlanta. Not your jurisdiction.” She puts her hands on her hips and dares me to judge her.
“Thank you for that helpful clarification.” This woman’s sass is going to kill me. I want to punish her for her crimes. With my tongue.
“Go on, then.” She pushes the sugar toward me on the counter. “Do I get a piece of cake when it’s done?”
“Unfortunately, I only made one. And it’s for my sister’s—” I actually shudder— “bridal shower.’
“Oh well.” She shrugs. “Next time. I should go grocery shopping anyway.”
“Yeah, you probably should. You don’t cook at all?”
“I cook eggs.” She shrugs.
“How do you avoid starvation?”
“Takeout food, sandwiches, and eggs.” She steps into a pair of ridiculous platform shoes that make her legs look even longer. “See you later, Copper.”
“See you later—” I stop myself before calling her Hot Neighbor—“Meg.”
* * *
And I do seeher later. About a half hour later.
As I’m carrying my nicely glazed lemon coffee cake out to my car, I find Meg leaning against her own car in the parking lot. “Everything okay?” I ask her.
“Sure.” She hastily wipes something away from the corner of her eye. “No problem.”
Oh shit, it’s a tear.Mayday!I’m inclined to call dispatch and ask for an emergency vehicle. I can’t handle it when women cry. It kills me, and I never know what to say. Not that I’m all that great at talking to them when they aren’t crying. But I digress. “What’s the matter, honey?”
She shakes her head. “Flat tire. It happens. No big deal.” She flicks a tear away from the other eye. “I’ll just…” she turns away from me. “Have fun today. Bye.”
“Wait,” I hear myself say. “Do you know how to change the tire?” It’s not like I care if I’m on time for a bridal shower. And changing a tire is nothing.
“Yep. I know how.” Her shoulders sag. “It’s just that I don’t have one.”
“Not even a donut?” I ask. “They’re not the best, but they’ll get you to the tire shop.”
Her expression is bleak when she turns around. “After my last flat, I drove on the donut until it gave out. And then I got the tire replaced. But I…”
“...Never replaced the donut.” I sigh. This is exactly the sort of thing I lecture my little sister about. “Don’t you realize you could have gotten a flat somewhere in the dead of night, in a shady neighborhood?”
“But I didn’t!” She cocks a hip. “Somehow I got one right here at home, thanks. Now you run along to your party and I’ll deal.”
Aw, man. I can’t leave a teary woman here alone with no groceries and a flat tire. “Where do you buy your tires?”
“At Discount Tires on 28th Street. They’re open on Sundays.”
“Tell you what. You come along with me while I stop in at my sister’s thing. I have to buy a gift on the way, but I don’t have to stay at this party. Then we’ll swing by Discount Tires on the way home and pick up a new tire for you. And a new donut.”
“Really?” Her face brightens up immediately. “You’d do that?”
“Sure,” I say, and my voice goes gruff. “It’s no big deal. Let’s go.” I gesture toward my car.
