Deadhead: Bedhead Book 3

by Kayt Miller

  “No, I mean… do you want to come over?” Seriously, what the ever-loving hell am I doing?

  “But you said—”

  “I know what I said. There’s nothing wrong with us being friends.” Shit. I just friend-zoned her.

  “Right. Friends.”

  I wait for her to tell me she has other plans when she finally speaks. “What kind of pizza?”

  My heart sort of flutters a little in my chest at her question. Is that weird? Should my heart flutter? Maybe I should get that checked out. “Great Plains. The Herbivore’s Delight on whole wheat, but I added pepperoni.”

  Her laugh makes me smile. “You got a vegetarian pizza with meat?”

  “I did. It’s the best.”

  “Actually, it sounds delicious. Are you sure you have enough?”

  “How much are you gonna eat?” I laugh. “I bought a large. I even got extra honey.”

  “Oh, wow. I love dipping the crust in the honey.”

  Me too. “So, are you in?”

  “I’m in. This is my cell, so text me your address. I’ll be over in… well, soon.”

  “Great.”

  We hang up, and I send her my address. If she leaves right now, it’ll take her fifteen to twenty minutes to get here. That gives me a little time to tidy up my place and change into jeans and a shirt that doesn’t have holes in the armpits.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Daisy

  What am I doing? I can’t believe I’m about to step onto Gage Golden’s front porch.

  I take a moment to look at his little bungalow. Actually, the entire neighborhood is adorable. The streetlights look like old-time gas lamps that are bright enough for me to see what his place looks like. It’s cute and very neat. The grass is cut, and there are pretty flowers in beds all around the porch that extends the entire length of the front of the house. Taking two steps up, I find myself on a porch that’s the perfect spot for a swing.

  “Oh God.” I attempt to swallow my nerves down. “I can’t believe I’m about to knock on Gage Golden’s front door.” His yellow front door. If I told you I’ve always wanted a yellow front door, would you think I was nuts?

  Just as I’m about to knock, his door opens wide, and I nearly choke. Gage in a police uniform is a sight to behold, but in a pair of jeans and a snug tee and bare feet? Well, I may just die from happiness on the spot. It’s my favorite look by far. He’s casual while still being rugged and sexy as hell.

  “Damn.” I sort of mumble the word, but I think he heard me.

  “I could say the same.”

  I look down at the dress I’ve been wearing all day. The green and yellow floral one. “Oh, this old thing?” I giggle at my stupidity. He’s not the only one who can reference old shows.

  “You look really nice.”

  “Thanks.”

  We stand there, me still on his front porch, him in his doorway, until I make a slight motion with my hand.

  “Oh, shit.” He chuckles as he moves out of the doorway. “Come in. Please.”

  Following him in, I smile when I see the inside of this house. Everything looks updated with fresh paint and refinished floors, but there’s still the essence of male all around thanks to the oversized black leather sectional sofa and matching chair. They’re so large, they pretty much take up the entire space.

  The room is open to the kitchen, which looks as though it’s been updated with some kind of stone counters. Marble or granite, Though I can’t be sure. “I like your place.”

  “Yeah?” He smiles proudly. “I’ve been working on it.”

  “By yourself?”

  “Mostly.” Running a hand through his blond waves, he adds, “But there are things that just aren’t in my wheelhouse.”

  “Like?”

  “Electrical and plumbing. I hired people to do those things.”

  “Smart. Flood and fire are two of the worst things that can happen to a home.”

  Even though I was serious, he must find it hilarious because he throws his head back and laughs. I don’t hate it. Gage Golden laughing, or with any kind of smile, is magnificent.

  When he stops laughing, he points to his couch. “Have a seat. I kept the pizza warm in the oven. Let me grab it.” Turning to head into the kitchen, he asks, “What would you like to drink? I’ve got beer, water, and lemon-lime soda.”

  “Water, please.”

  “Got it.”

  I sit on the sofa and sink in, wiggling until my spine meets with the back. It’s so deep my feet are now sticking straight out in front of me. See what I mean? His sofa his huge. It’s so big there’s no room for a dining table in this space, apparently.

  While I wait for him to return from the kitchen, I fiddle with the bottom of my dress—and scream.

  From out of nowhere, a cat has jumped onto my lap.

  “What’s wrong?” Gage shouts as he races from the kitchen.

  “Y-You’ve g-got a cat?” I hate cats. Well, correction. I’m scared of cats. There’s a difference. A slight one.

  “Pepper. Get down.” Gage places a hand on the feline’s body and pushes her off my lap. Kneeling in front of me, he looks up at me with worry in his eyes. “Are you okay? I should have warned you about the cat.”

  Shaking my head, I reach out and touch his arm. “No. I’m sorry I panicked. Cats and me….” How do I say it? “Cat’s don’t usually like me.”

  “Pepper must’ve liked you to come to you.” He smiles. “She’s finicky about who she lets pet her.”

  “Really?” If that’s the case, maybe I could try again. “Her name’s Pepper?” It’s a strange name for a yellow cat.

  “My mom named her Pepper Anderson.”

  I laugh. “She’s got a last name?”

  “Yeah.” He runs his fingers through his hair. “Pepper Anderson was the name of a character in a show called Police Woman back in the 70s, I think. It was one of her favorite shows, and since I’m a cop….”

  “Your mom named her?”

  “My mom gave her to me as a housewarming gift.” He rolls his eyes. “Who gives cats as gifts?”

  I laugh again. “Your mom must be funny.”

  “She is.” He looks me in the eye. “You going to be okay with Pepper here?”

  “Oh. Yeah.” I wave off his question. “She just startled me.”

  “Okay,” he says hesitantly. “If you feel scared at all, let me know. I can put her in my bedroom and shut the door.”

  “No. Don’t. This is her house too.”

  “If you’re sure?” He pushes himself up to stand.

  “I’m sure.” I’m not so sure, but I need to try. For Gage.

  I watch him return to the kitchen. He’s back in no time. “Here we are.” He brings two plates, forks, napkins, and a glass of water. They’re all balanced precariously on top of a box labeled with the restaurant known for their crust.

  “Mm.” I can’t help making that noise. This pizza is amazing. “Smells good.”

  He places the box with everything on top onto the coffee table before handing me my water. I take a sip and watch him work. Next, I’m given a plate with two slices of pizza along with a napkin and fork. “Here.” He pushes over a TV tray circa 1965. It’s covered in the famous boomerang pattern I remember seeing on my grandmother’s dining table.

  I set my plate on the tray. “Thank you.” Looking around the room, I expect to see another tray, but it looks as though he only has one. Why does that make me smile? Heck, it makes me giddy. Because if he had more than one, he’d have two, and I’d be wondering who the other one was for. But just to be sure. “Is this your only tray? Because I don’t need one.”

  “No worries.” He smiles. “I’m used to sitting like this.” I watch him as he sits about two feet from me. He sets his beer between his legs and his plate on top of that, so it rests on his thighs. “Sorry. No dining room.”

  “No.” I smile at him. A sincere one. “This is how I do it at home too.” Picking up one of my pizza slices, I
close my eyes for my first bite. I want to savor it. “Oh Gob,” I say with my mouth full of yummy pizza. “So goob.”

  I open my eyes and blush when I see Gage watching me. To say his gaze is intense is an understatement. He quickly shakes his head and looks down at his food. “I’m starving.” I watch as he devours two slices in the time I’ve barely finished one. “You were hungry. Busy day?”

  “Yeah. We drove out to Stuart, Iowa.”

  “Stuart? Where’s that?”

  “It’s a couple of hours from here. West of Des Moines.”

  “Why?” I assume it’s for the investigation.

  “Kara’s hometown.”

  “Oh.” I look down at my plate as a sense of sadness washes over me. “I feel for her family.”

  “Yeah. Her dad’s taken it pretty hard.”

  “And her mom?”

  “Out of the picture.”

  “I get that. I don’t think my father would care if something happened to me, though.” Except he’d be without his writer. He’ll realize that’s going to be a reality soon enough.

  I feel Gage’s hand touch mine, and a shiver runs up my arm. “Don’t say that. I’m sure he’d be devastated.”

  I snort. “Believe me, Dr. Dorian Gray Buchanan only cares about himself.”

  He squeezes my arm a little. “I’m sorry, Daisy.”

  My goodness, the sound of his voice is so sweet, so sincere.

  “Don’t worry. I’m used to it. Besides”—I smile—“I’m not going to be doing his research for much longer.”

  “Oh?” He eats another slice of pizza in record time. Where the hell does he store the stuff? His body looks like he treats it like a temple. “What will you do when you’re finished with that?”

  “I’ve got something else lined up.”

  “Is it, um, here in Ames?”

  “For now.” I nod and reach out to get another piece of pizza. This will be my third and last. I’m already stuffed to the gills, but I don’t get pizza very often. I feel like I need to indulge.

  “Here.” He hands me the honey. “For the crust.”

  “Oh, I forgot.” Damn. Now I’ll be so full, I’ll have to waddle out of here.

  “So, this new job…,” he asks tentatively.

  “It’ll be remote, so I can work from anywhere.”

  “Oh.” He smiles. “Good.”

  Hell yes. He said “good.”

  I’m not sure what to do after we’ve finished dinner, so I ask, “Can I help you clean up?” I know, it’s only two plates and a pizza box, but it’s impolite not to offer.

  “Nah. I’ve got it.”

  Should I leave?

  “Want to watch a movie or something?”

  Thank goodness he brought it up.

  Not wanting to lose this thread, I say, “Sure. Do you have any of the subscription channels? You know, like Netflix?” Ooh, Netflix and chill.

  “No. I’m not here enough. I’ve got a bunch of DVDs in that cupboard next to the television. Go ahead and pick something out while I start up the dishwasher.”

  Opening the cupboard door, I’m not sure what I expect to see. Certainly not this. “You have every Harry Potter movie?”

  “Yeah. I read all the books as they were released, so I had to see the movies. My family sent those over to me on the base while I was overseas.”

  Wait one second…. “You were in the service?”

  “I was. Four years.”

  “Which branch?”

  “Army. MP. Military police.”

  I guess it makes sense that’s he’s a cop now.

  When he steps back into his living room, he’s holding a fresh glass of water for me. “You sure you don’t want a beer?” he asks.

  “No. I’m driving. And Ames cops are hard-core.”

  He laughs again, like he did before. “You’re right. They can be assholes.”

  “I’ve heard.” I roll my eyes, then smile. Reaching in, I grasp my choice. “Let’s watch the first Harry Potter.”

  “Sounds good.” Taking it from me, he sets the movie up while I settle in on the sofa again.

  When the opening credits start to roll, Gage steps backward, then turns. I had hopes of him sitting next to me on this sofa—you know, extra close with his hand on my thigh—but that’s not going to happen if he’s sitting in the chair.

  Damn it.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Gage

  I knew if I sat next to her on my extra comfortable couch, I’d have wanted to get close to her. Touch her. Maybe even kiss her. But I can’t, so I do the right thing and take the chair.

  Damn it, this sucks, because I’m having such a great time with her. I don’t remember the last time I felt this comfortable around a woman. There’s an ease about her that I can’t quite figure out, even though her life seems sort of sad and complicated––she’s not. She’s bright and happy and, like I said, easy.

  Well, not easy in that sense, at least not that I know of, but comfortable. I’m not saying any of this right.

  Comfortable, Gage? Jesus, she’s not a blanket.

  Clearing my throat, I ask her, “Have you read the books?”

  “Oh yeah. Multiple times.”

  “And have you seen the movies?”

  “I have. They aren’t as good as the books, but I’ve seen them so many times now, they work.”

  “Agreed.”

  We both turn to watch the opening scene unfold. “God, I remember seeing this in the theater and holding my breath at this exact scene. It’s magical.”

  I chuckle at her words. “It is magical.”

  “Smartass,” she says, leaning over the arm of my sofa in an attempt to slap my arm.

  I beat her to it, though. When she’s about to make contact, I reach out and grasp her hand. When that happens, both of us freeze. She’s staring at our clasped hands just like I am. Without thinking, I intertwine my fingers with hers, and I’m not sure how to describe the feeling other than to say it feels right. Very, very right.

  Thankfully, she doesn’t pull away. Instead, our joined hands rest on the arm of my chair for a good long time.

  “Thanks,” Daisy says with a shy smile. “I had a good time tonight.”

  “Me too.” We’re standing on my front porch now. The temperature dropped quite a bit since she arrived, so now she has her arms wrapped around herself. She’s shivering.

  “Hang on.” I run back inside to my bedroom. Opening a dresser drawer, I pull out the sweatshirt on top. It’s an old army one, gray and a little worse for wear. Rushing back out to the porch, I hand it to her. “Here. Put this on.”

  “Oh, no…,” she says hesitantly.

  “No. Please. It’s too cold. Your dress is….” What? Flimsy? It looks like the fabric is light, and there aren’t any sleeves.

  Reaching out, she takes it. “I’ll get it back to you.”

  “No worries.” It is one of my favorites, but I can get another one.

  “Thanks.” She smiles.

  I watch as she slips it over her head and then down. The bottom of it falls past her hips, and the arms swallow up her hands. She’s adorable.

  She scrunches up the sleeves, revealing her hands once again. I feel a hand on my shoulder and warm lips on my cheek. “Thanks,” she says as she turns to leave.

  “Text me when you get home.”

  “Okay,” she agrees but doesn’t look back.

  “Drive safe.”

  This time she does. She laughs as she says, “Okay, Gage.”

  Damn. I don’t want her to go, but it’s the right thing to do. “Night.”

  “Night.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Daisy

  The minute I pull into my spot in the parking lot, I reach for my phone.

  Me: Home.

  I wait for his response. Actually, I’m holding my breath. Weird, right? I don’t have to wait long.

  Gage: Good. Had fun tonight.

  Yeah, I should be cool and wait to respond,
but why?

  Me: Me too.

  Gage: We should do it again. Watch the second one.

  Me: I’d love to.

  Gage: We could get food from…

  Gage: What’s your favorite restaurant in Ames?

  That’s a tough one. I have to think about it.

  Me: Well, don’t judge, but I love Blaze Pizza.

  It’s a chain restaurant, but I love their crust made crispy by the open-flame oven. Dang, I’m getting hungry just thinking about it.

  Gage: Never been. Can’t wait to try it.

  I don’t know what to say to that, so the smiley face will have to do.

  Me: :)

  Me: Night, Gage.

  Gage: Night, Daisy.

  Stepping out of my car, I’ve got a stupid grin on my face. It can’t be helped. Unfortunately, that grin only lasts until I get to my apartment. It’s there the smile drops because there’s something taped to my door. An envelope. Moving closer, I see my name scribbled on the front in handwriting I recognize. Dad’s. Grasping it, I carefully pull it away from the door so paint doesn’t come off.

  While I’d like to tear it open and read it now, I know I need to wait until I get inside. With key in hand, I open my door and step into my apartment. The sense something isn’t right is immediate. Well, I guess I suspected something the minute I spotted the envelope. Moving past my kitchen, I freeze. “That fucker.”

  Yanking my phone from my pocket, I don’t bother with the letter.

  Me: Where’s my computer?

  He must’ve been waiting because he responds right away.

  Daddy Dearest: In your old bedroom. With your clothing and the rest of your things. Didn’t you read my note, honey?

  “Honey” my ass.

  Stomping into my bedroom, I see my bed has been stripped of all sheets, pillows, and blankets. No matter, I’ve got another set. Back in the hallway, I open the cupboard where I keep towels, sheets, blankets, and so on and growl. “That motherfucker.” Everything’s gone.