Page 68 of ILY
I fire back an email asking him to forward me the files for the three warrants and the paperwork the other detectives filed on them. It’s too much of a coincidence to not be something. The more I think about it, the more I realize that this was a cold case I’d studied. The people who had gone missing were all locals within a seventy-five-mile radius of the town limits.
I don’t remember details though, so I need that information before I can really start digging around.
I sit back in my chair, another weight in my gut because clearly this wasn’t Leaf. Half this shit happened before he waseven born. But there is one person who did live on the property. Someone who had always been on the property.
Someone Leaf knew.
I’m now profoundly aware I have no idea how close Leaf was to his aunt—or how he came to inherit her property out of everyone else in his family. I need to ask.
No, I need to do more than that. I need to bring him in on this. It’s a cold case, and the amount of shit I will be in for digging around in something that’s nowhere near my division is astronomical, but at this point, in for a fucking penny.
Besides, what can they do? Make me retire early?
Grabbing my phone, I pull up Leaf’s contact. There’s no point in me sitting around here waiting for another email that’s likely going to take days. Not only do I want to be on Leaf’s property to have a real look around, but I also want to be with him.
Me: I don’t have a lot of work here. Do you want me to grab us something for dinner?
Leaf: You already brought half a grocery store to my house. Besides, I was thinking we could go out. I have a couple friends in town that own a restaurant. Date, maybe?
My heart skips a beat. Adate? Shit. I haven’t been on a date in…god, I don’t even know how long. Years. When I had an itch, I went somewhere to scratch it. The women I wanted to fuck didn’t need or want to be wined and dined. Some grocery store flowers and a bottle of wine always did the trick.
Is it different, dating a man?
Me: I’ll get ready and pick you up. How nice do I need to look?
Leaf: However you want. It’s casual.
I take that to mean my nicest pair of jeans and a button-up. Not pajamas, though with Leaf, I wouldn’t put it past him. But I feel something in my gut—almost as if I’m giddy for the first time. Like suddenly, my job means a lot less than getting to see Leaf, kiss him, touch him.
I don’t really know what the fuck to do with this feeling, so I head into the bedroom, strip, and leave my hearing aids on the nightstand as I hop in the shower. Half of me wants to jerk off to take the edge off, but half of me wants to head back to Leaf’s as quickly as possible.
It’s still afternoon—maybe there’s time for a quickie. Then he can take the edge off.
My dick thickens a little at the thought, but I ignore it and finish washing up. Unfortunately, all of my really nice clothes are back in my apartment in Portland, but I have a pair of passable jeans that aren’t covered in farm dirt and a work shirt that doesn’t make me look too much like a douche.
I think Leaf will like it. Though Leaf seems to like me in whatever flavor I come in—exhausted, grumpy, horny, happy. It’s kind of a marvel, and a small part of me can’t help but wonder if it’s real or if he’s just very lonely.
Whatever the case, I like him. A lot. Enough to scare the absolute shit out of myself. Enough to make me stand in front of the mirror for way too long and have a full-blown crisis about the way I’m dressed.
Finally, I give up trying to make myself better—I am who I am—and I slap my hearing aids back in before snagging my keys from the kitchen table and heading back out. I shoot Leaf atext to let him know I’m on the way and then take a deep breath before hitting the road and hope I don’t completely fuck up tonight.
“Do we get to make out first?” I ask when Leaf tells me it’s time to go.
His shoulders heave with a sigh, and then he grabs me by the hips and gives me a slow up-and-down look before shoving me backward. I stumble but catch myself against the wall, and he slots himself between my legs.
“Ask me nicely.” I wet my lips, and he adds, “Bitch.”
I huff a laugh and shake my head.
“Did I ruin it?” he asks.
I nod. I’m not telling the truth. I’m not exactly into name-calling, but I like the way he toys with me. “Possibly. Better take a look and see.”
He grins and runs a hand down my hardening cock. Apparently, he didn’t ruin much.
My whole body gets hot as he touches me. I’ve mostly been the bossy one since we started doing this. He has more experience than I do, but it’s hard for me to give up that kind of power. Only…goddamn, I kind of like it.
I lick my lips, then change tactics and lift my hand. I haven’t been practicing my ASL as much as I should be. Denver would not be pleased. But I think he might appreciate the way I’m about to use it now.
