Page 23 of Professional Consult
“I’ve always had a driver. I can drive small distances on sets, but hardly anything more than a block.”
He runs his thick fingers through his hair. “Jesus-fucking-Christ.”
“Is it really so bad having me around? You woke up to breakfast.”
“And a backache.”
“I offered to take the couch.”
“You stole my dog.”
“Riggs was craving feminine warmth and love.”
“You’re impossible.”
“You just don’t like that I’m so solution-oriented.”
“You want a solution? Fine—I’ll be the one to sleep at the precinct. The damn metal cot has got to be more comfortable than the tiny ass couch I have, and the local drunks are much better company.”
“Or you could just sleep in your own bed. Heck, if it’s big enough for me and Riggs, it’ll be big enough for you and me.”
It takes a moment for me to realize exactly what I’d just said. The line I’d just crossed.
And for the next minute, I suffer the most awkward silence of my life.
It is one thing to fantasize about the good chief of police. It’s quite another to come onto him so blatantly. Heck, masturbating with his bar of soap is more forgivable than what I’d just said.
He has every right to send me back home, so I have to somehow flip this. Make it sound like I’m not ‘hot for chief.’
So I say, “Or, you could let me take the couch.”
He glowers as I return to cleaning up the kitchen. Shockingly, he’s the complete opposite of Clint, who loves the sound of his own voice.
As I take his coffee cup, I notice his eyes clinging to my legs, traveling up their length. I definitely planted a seed with that problematic come-on.
I wonder how Clint would react to me fucking his brother. Perhaps I should wonder how Luke would react. Is he always so tense? Does he grind like a freshly oiled piston? Or is he wild and carefree?
The thought makes me chuckle, startling Luke into returning his eyes forward so that he’s staring at the wall.
For as handsome as he is, Luke is as awkward as they come.
As I clean out the sink, I feel something cold and wet swipe against my butt cheek, making me jump.
“Riggs!” I shout when I spy the offender. “Shoo!”
Luke's expression is as amused as it is righteous. “Maybe you’ll think twice before going around my house pantless.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t have left my luggage on a plane while taking me into custody.”
Luke shrugs. “We’re both left with our regrets. If only it had been you I’d left.”
“About those clothes you hinted at?”
“Give me a sec. I have to get them down from the attic.”
As I wait, I look at the bare walls and empty spaces that would normally hold beloved knick-knacks and decorations. I only find two pictures. One, I assume, is of him and his brother with what looks like their mother and father. The other is of a child that is either Luke or Clint.
It’s odd that he has so little on display, but I guess it takes a woman to make a house a home.
