by Jules Court
“I don’t—”
“It would mean a lot to her,” Brian wheedled.
She looked at Cruz, but he wouldn’t meet her eyes.
“I’m going to text her and let her know you’re in,” Brian said cheerfully before walking away, cell phone in hand.
“What the hell just happened here?” she asked Cruz.
“You’ve just been MacGregored. I thought that was just a Brian thing, but then I met his family. They’re just as bad.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means you’re coming to post-Thanksgiving.” Cruz smiled at her and she forgot to be mad at him. That smile was really dangerous. Why was he slinging it around with abandon?
“Why does he want me to come so badly? I barely know him.” Was it because Cruz wanted her there? Which was a silly junior high school thing to think. Especially since he’d just told her she wasn’t his type.
“Priya’s going through a tough time. She’s still estranged from her family, so the support of friends would mean a lot right now. And Brian would do anything for Priya. Even socialize with defense attorneys.”
She instantly felt about two feet tall. She’d been so wrapped up in her own issues, she hadn’t even realized her friend had needed her. Priya wasn’t the type to reach out, but if Erin had been paying attention, she probably would have seen the signs. She’d been selfish. And she knew a little something about difficult families.
“Of course I’ll come,” she said.
Cruz nodded and, per usual, walked away without a farewell. The crowds seemed to part before him without him even trying. They just seemed to sense he wanted them to move.
She slumped against the wall.
Paula approached and leaned in close. “A bit of advice,” she said. “The rules are different for us.”
“What do you mean?” she asked, even though she knew exactly what Paula was driving at. The male associates could do what they wanted after hours, short of committing a felony. They could skirt the ethics rules and flirt with the appearance of impropriety. But she wasn’t a male attorney. If a male colleague was seen keeping company with a detective, he’d be high-fived for nailing the enemy. She’d be crucified as a slutty slut slutting it up who couldn’t be trusted to do what was best for her clients.
“Appearance is everything if you want to make partner.” Paula gave a resigned shrug. “The game is rigged. And then you’re blamed for when you fail.”
Erin straightened up. “I don’t even like him.”
“Tall, dark and handsome. What’s not to like?”
“It’s not even an issue because he has no interest in me.”
“And that’s why he walked all the way over to the bar to not get a drink.”
“He doesn’t even talk.” Even to herself that protest sounded weak.
“A guy like that doesn’t have to.”
“I thought you were warning me off.”
“I am.” Paula gave her a tiny smile tinged with bitterness.
“Is it worth making partner?” That wasn’t a question Erin had bothered to ask herself before. Of course she needed to make partner. Maybe then she’d stop feeling like she was fooling everyone. If she were partner, it would have to mean she was good at what she did. That the little voice that whispered in the dark of the night that she was worthless was wrong.
“It has to be,” Paula said, and rubbed the spot on her finger that still held a faint impression of a wedding ring.
* * *
Erin wheeled her grocery cart down the aisle, dodging a harried-looking woman with a screaming baby and a teenager wearing pajama pants. This Stop & Shop was the only metro grocery store still open on Thanksgiving, and it was jammed full of stressed-out shoppers. She lingered for a moment at the mac and cheese display. What the hell, it was Thanksgiving. She’d spring for the deluxe version instead of the orange powder today.
Her mother and sister were hitting the big box stores for the Black Friday sales that were starting on Thursday, and Erin would rather stick a fork in her eye than get stomped by a slavering crowd of shoppers desperate to get their hands on a cheap big screen TV. Not that they’d invited her along anyway.
She dodged the Christmas display and almost rammed her cart into the man she should have known she’d see. “You have got to be fucking kidding me. Do you have some sort of tracking device on me? Stalking is a crime, Detective.”
“What a coincidence, running into you at the only store open today. What are the odds?”
“I’m picking up on your sarcasm.”
“You’re not stupid.” Cruz peered into her basket. “Now that’s just sad.”
“How is having a relaxing day to yourself and watching football sad?”
“I meant your boxed approximation of food.” He plucked her mac and cheese out of the cart. “Enriched macaroni product, milk protein concentrate, sodium tripolyphosphate.” He sneered in disgust and dropped the box back in her cart. He pointed at her pack of hot dogs. “Those are just lips and assholes.”
“But they go really well with my sodium tripolyphosphate.”
He looked upward, as if addressing a higher power. “I just can’t stand by and let this happen,” he said. He grabbed her cart. “Follow me.”
“What are you doing?” She scrambled after him as he took off with her purloined cart.
“Saving you from yourself.”
He steered toward the cheese aisle. “You’re going to want at least two different types of cheese. There’s your classic cheddar, I prefer sharp—”
“Erin, Danny!” a voice called out.
She turned in unison with Cruz to see Mike Kelly bearing down on them. They both froze.
Mike caught up with them and said cheerfully, “Happy Thanksgiving. Funny running into you two here. And together.”
“We’re not together,” she said quickly. “We just ran into each other. So random.” Stop talking, you’re making it worse. “Really crazy busy in here, isn’t it? Everyone doing their last minute shopping.”
Both men were looking at her like she’d just stripped naked and started singing the national anthem at the top of her lungs. She clamped her jaw shut.
“Just picking up a few last minute things,” Mike said, wading into the awkwardness. “My husband’s waiting for me to bring back the stuffing, so I better run. Good seeing you.”
Once Mike had retreated down the cereal aisle, Cruz asked, “Did you just have a mini stroke?”
She punched him in the arm. “Dick.”
To her shock, he laughed. Rubbing his arm, he said, “Do you already have milk and butter?”
“What?”
“For the macaroni and cheese.” He dropped a few different types of cheese in the shopping cart. “I’m giving you my recipe.”
“I have bagged salad and Pop-Tarts.”
She almost laughed at his horrified expression. “That’s it. You’re coming home with me. I’ll make sure you eat.”
“Don’t you have plans? What about your family?”
“I passed on dinner with the MacGregors. Too many people. Everyone talking at the same time.”
“Why are you being weird?”
He cocked his head.
“You’re being too nice to me. We kind of have this mortal enemies thing going on. Unless you think I’m going to throw you a Thanksgiving bone. Because that would be a wishbone.”
He ignored her terrible pun. “I need someone to taste test some food. I’m trying out a few new recipes for Saturday. But if you don’t want good food...” He shrugged.
She should grab her processed food products and leave him with the cheese display. But she didn’t want to, because as pathetic as it was, she didn’t want to be alone. It didn’t necessarily follow that she wanted t
o be with him, though. That would be the height of foolishness. But it was Thanksgiving and he’d promised good food.
“I’m still buying the hot dogs,” she said.
What are you doing? The refrain echoed through her head as she stood in line next to him. The checkout girl rang him up and batted her eyelashes. It repeated on a loop as she trailed him out to the parking lot.
“Do you want to follow me?” he asked.
Yes. No. “I don’t have a car. I took the T.”
He gestured toward his car, a fuel efficient compact sedan that would be easy to parallel park and wouldn’t attract undue attention—until you saw who was driving it. It was exactly what she’d expected, until he’d kissed her. He hadn’t kissed her like a man who drove a practical car. So which man was he?
* * *
Danny had awoken that morning feeling empty. On a day when everyone was celebrating, or feuding, with their families, he was alone. He’d reminded himself that it was his choice. Brian had pestered him to come to the MacGregors’ Thanksgiving, which apparently started with mimosas before running the local 5k Turkey Trot and ended with drunken feats of strength in the backyard where the MacGregors took turns seeing who could hurl a frozen turkey the longest distance. Danny’d told himself he was opting out because he wanted some peace and quiet, but that was a lie. The truth was, although he would have been welcomed with open arms, they weren’t his family and they weren’t his traditions. He didn’t belong.
He’d moped his way through his usual morning run and returned to his apartment intent on making himself the perfect café con leche. Until he opened his refrigerator to discover he was out of coffee beans. He could have settled for tea instead. But he was restless and didn’t want to sit around his empty apartment. So he voluntarily went out to brave the crowds at the only open market.
When the automatic doors whooshed open and he saw the teeming mass of humanity inside, he’d almost turned and fled. But there, in the distance, shooting a murderous look at a teenager texting when he should have been walking, stood Erin. And something suspiciously like pleasure, which it couldn’t possibly be, bloomed inside him.
And now she was in his home. Despite her overt antagonism, he could tell she didn’t want to be alone. Like him. They were simply two shipwrecked fools clinging to each other.
She yanked open his freezer door. “What’s with all the food? “ She pulled out a container. “And it’s all labeled.”
“I like to cook.” He snatched the plastic container from her hands and placed it back in the freezer, closing the door firmly. His actions had brought him dangerously close to her. She was wearing her dark hair down and it fell in loose waves about her shoulders. His hands itched with the sudden desire to wrap one glossy strand around his knuckles. He stepped back and shoved up the sleeves of his henley.
She stared at his forearms and visibly swallowed before looking away. “But you don’t like to eat,” she said.
“I eat. Just not as much as I cook.” He opened a drawer and pulled out his cheese grater.
“Have you ever thought that maybe you’re sublimating? You’re emotionally stopped up because you channel feelings into food that you don’t eat.”
“Go sit down. I’ll bring you your food when it’s ready.”
“I can’t watch you cook?”
“It’s not a trick.” She was still too close. She wore a blue sweater and jeans instead of a suit. It was like seeing a knight without her armor. “Quit hovering.”
“So, where’s your family?” She popped herself up to perch on the countertop, legs swinging.
“That’s not sanitary.”
No one had ever sat in his kitchen and watched him cook. He poured the milk into a liquid measuring cup. His abuela never measured anything. She did a dash of this and a pinch of that, but he preferred to be precise. From what he could remember, his mother had carefully measured out ingredients using a set of plastic measuring cups that stacked into each other. She’d pulled them out to explain fractions when he’d struggled with his math homework.
“You’re from New York, right?” Erin asked.
“Brooklyn. Before the artisanal honey and organic microbrewed kombucha contingent moved in.”
“New York’s, what? A four-hour drive? Even in holiday traffic that’s doable.”
“What about your family?” he countered.
“Busy reveling in consumer excess. It’s just my mom and sister—and her kid, but Emma’s with her father today. They crossed the border to the tax-free shopping wonderland of New Hampshire.”
“Not a shopper?” He grated the block of sharp cheddar. It seemed an appropriate choice for her.
“Not if I can help it.” She gave an exaggerated shudder. “So, are you the black sheep? Mom guilt trip you about grandkids? Dad argue politics? Is that why you’re alone?”
Gone with the speed of a bullet fired from a chamber. “Do you want something to drink? There’s water—still and sparkling—and beer in the fridge, or I could make coffee.”
“Water’s fine,” she said. She hopped down from the counter. “I’ll get it.” She placed a hand on the refrigerator door, but paused. “This is weird, isn’t it? You and me. It feels like...it’s just weird.”
“Probably because you’re cross-examining me.”
“Maybe if you dropped the man of mystery act and actually talked, then a conversation wouldn’t feel like an interrogation.”
“You want to know me?”
She wrinkled her little nose. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’m just bored.”
And that’s the only reason she was here. Which was fine. He didn’t need her to like him. He didn’t need anyone to like him. He wasn’t some pathetic sad sack. He was a rock.
“What are you muttering? Did you just call yourself the Rock?”
“Do you want me to burn your food? Because milk scorches very easily.”
“So, this was obviously a mistake. I’m going to go, but...” She paused and stuck her chin up like she was steeling herself for something unpleasant. “I shouldn’t have done what I did in the courtroom, and not just because it backfired.”
“Insinuated that I’m a liar.”
“Yeah, that. I was desperate and I wanted to win.”
He snapped off the burner. She leaned against his bare refrigerator door, which didn’t hold a single magnet, no pictures, or doodles, or even takeout menus. He took a step toward her.
“What is it that you think you know about me? What did your lawyer friend say?”
Her tongue darted to moisten the corner of her lips. “Nothing. Just that the DA’s office was celebrating because they finally had enough evidence to prosecute the top guys of a major gang. And it was all because of one undercover cop, Officer Daniel Cruz. It was going to be a major coup for the DA and shower the entire office in glory. And then it just—” she made a poof gesture with her fingertips “—went away.”
He advanced. “And that was enough for you to believe I’m corrupt?”
She shook her head. “I never thought that. You’re a good cop. I’ve read your arrest reports, I’ve talked to other lawyers, I’ve even gone up against you before. I know you’re honest.”
He stopped close enough to touch her. He lifted a lock of her silky hair and rubbed it over his knuckles. “You like me,” he said.
Her nipples were sharp points against the fabric of her sweater. “Nothing’s changed.”
Hot blood raced through his veins and pooled in his groin. “I know.” He dropped her hair.
She closed the distance between them. Her kiss was fierce. Their lips molded together as their tongues clashed. She tasted like sugar and cinnamon and coffee—sweet and sharp.
This was complete madness. He lifted her up and deposited her on the countertop, spreading her legs
to stand between them. His cock throbbed against his jeans.
She placed her hands on his shoulders, gazing up at him with dazed eyes. He cupped one of her breasts with his hand and her breathing became more shallow. When he brushed his thumb over her nipple, she gasped. She dug her fingernails into his shoulders, the thin material of his shirt no protection from the sharp sting, and the sensation raced through his body. He lowered his head to hers and continued to caress her nipple.
She wrapped her legs around his waist. Her tongue fluttered in his mouth, her breath sounded in his ears, her jasmine smell filled his nostrils. He had to have her now. He released her breast, but only to grab the hem of her sweater, intent upon peeling it off. Her hands moved to his chest, palms placed flat, and then she shoved him.
The surprise more than the force made him take a step back. “What the fuck?”
But she was already hopping off the counter. “I have to go.” She raced past him.
“Erin?” What the hell was happening?
The slam of his front door closing behind her was the only thing that answered. He was alone. He braced his hands on the countertop and took a few slow, long deep breaths, focusing on slowing his heart rate and willing his raging hard-on to subside. He should be happy she’d kept her head on straight. Sleeping together would have been an epic disaster.
He picked up the pot holding the beginnings of her mac and cheese and hurled it across the kitchen.
Erin ran. She ran until her sides cramped up and her thigh muscles screamed. She ran until she was sucking in air in great sobbing gasps while the cold November wind whipped her face and tears streamed from the corners of her eyes—tears caused by the wind. But when she halted, she was only blocks away from Danny’s apartment. Close enough that she could still turn around and go back. And tell him what? That when he’d kissed her she’d felt like she wanted to climb inside him? And not only was that creepy, but it scared the hell out of her.
No, she was done making an ass out of herself over him. Being alone was okay. Being alone was safe.
