“So it’s settled, then.”
“And you’re sure you’re okay with this?” Briana was so sincere it melted her.
“I am,” she said honestly. “I like seeing you happy. And I like being with you.” She shrugged. “If I have to sacrifice one night of sleeping next to you, it’s worth it.”
“Who’s sacrificing that?” Briana seemed legit confused by her statement.
“I just meant…you know, being here at your parents’ house—”
Briana cut her off with a kiss. “Dylan, I’m thirty-two years old. My parents aren’t naive. We’re sharing a room. And a bed.” She bit her lip seductively. “What happens beyond that”—she raised one eyebrow in a sort of taunt—“well, that’s entirely up to you.”
* * *
Everything about the night was perfect in ways Dylan didn’t expect. She laughed her head off playing dice and cards with the Logan clan. She ate second round turkey at ten p.m. Mr. and Mrs. Logan asked her about her life and her job, and Briana bragged about her investigative prowess and how she could fix just about anything. Briana’s family was fun and nice, but the best part was Briana never stopped touching her. Right up to and including the hushed, yet oddly intimate sex they had in the guest bedroom when everyone had called it a night.
It was all wonderful and sweet and charming and fun, and the awesome vibe carried right into midmorning, as Dylan sipped coffee in the unseasonably warm weather on the Logans’ back deck. Briana sat next to her in an oversized hoodie, her hair a touch wild and sexy as hell.
“Are you itching to get home?” Briana broke off a piece of croissant and offered it to her.
“Not really,” Dylan said. She looked down at yesterday’s jeans. “Only to be in clean clothes,” she said with a shrug. “Other than that, I’m in no rush.”
“I could see if my dad has something that fits you. Or Ted.”
It was a thoughtful gesture, but unnecessary. And it wouldn’t work anyway. She was taller than Ted and skinnier than Mr. Logan. “It’s cool.” She kissed Briana’s temple. “If you can deal with looking at recycled me, I can deal for a while longer.”
“I can’t ever stop looking at you.” Briana hooked her arm and scooched closer. “It’s sort of a problem.” Briana widened her eyes in a kind of playful self-scolding. She ran her hands through Dylan’s hair and pulled it gently in the way she loved. She was looking right at her. Studying her. Gratuitously, it seemed. Dylan didn’t mind. In fact, she loved that they were outside in the light of day, under a gorgeous blue sky, and were able to be together. It was refreshing.
As if Briana read her mind she asked, “Would you be up for a walk on the boardwalk?”
“Definitely,” Dylan said. “What were you thinking? Long Beach?”
Briana smiled and nodded. “It’s only a fifteen-minute drive from here. And it’s so warm out. Seems crazy not to take advantage.”
“Sounds perfect.” Dylan looked at her mouth and was tempted to lean in for a kiss but resisted since they were in her parents’ backyard.
“You want to kiss me,” Briana said, reading her thoughts again.
“Always.” There seemed no point in pretending it wasn’t the truth.
Briana didn’t smile or tease. She simply touched her face and brought their lips together with the softest, most delicate touch.
On the surface the moment was small, inconsequential. But inside Dylan felt the shift. It wasn’t scary or stressful like she’d always expected it to be. On the contrary, she felt light and free and complete, and she didn’t fight it or try to talk herself out of it. She simply held Briana’s hand and let her heart go completely.
Ninety minutes later, they strolled the Long Beach boardwalk hand in hand, both in awe of the balmy sea air so late in the season.
“How was your mom’s yesterday?” Briana said. “I never really asked.”
“It was fine. Cynthia was very…Cynthia.” Dylan laughed, knowing her bizarre response would elicit questions.
“Wait. Do you call your mom Cynthia?”
“Sometimes. It drives her crazy. I sorta do it to tease her.”
“Does she get mad?”
“Not mad, really. She knows I’m mostly playing.”
“Mostly?”
“She was a kid when she had me.” Dylan shrugged. “My grandparents were really the ones who raised me. It’s not a secret for either of us.” Dylan loved her mom, but their relationship had never felt maternal. “Cynthia and I”—she paused to select her words carefully—“we have a nice bond. She feels more like an older sister than anything else. It’s nice. Special, even. Just not mom-ish, if that makes sense.”
“What about your dad? Do you talk to him?”
“He passed away,” she said.
“Dylan, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”
“It’s okay. I didn’t really know him that well.”
“What happened? Can I ask?”
“You can ask me anything,” Dylan said. It was crazy, but she didn’t think there was anything she wouldn’t be willing to share with Briana. “Bobby Prescott,” she said, recognizing an unusual nostalgia in her tone. “He was around a bit when I was a baby. But I think I more remember pictures of him, than actually him. Do you know what I mean?”
“I can understand that.” Briana squeezed her hand, and maybe Dylan imagined it, but she felt the support stream through her body.
“I remember once when I was in high school. He had gotten clean. He wanted to see me. To connect. He came by the house. It was nice. He was nice.”
“He had a problem with drugs?”
Dylan nodded. She’d never told anyone. Not her friends. Not coworkers. No one she’d ever dated. It wasn’t that she was embarrassed. It was simply that she’d never felt close enough to anyone to really share the complicated mix of shame, pity, and love she felt for a man she’d hardly known.
“He and my mom continued to date after I was born. He even lived with us for a bit.” She chewed her lip, remembering the narrative she’d been told. “When I was around three, he fell in with a bad crowd.” She hunched her shoulders. “It was all downhill from there.”
“Baby, I am so sorry.” Briana kissed her shoulder.
“It’s okay,” she said. It felt good to talk about her father with Briana. Cathartic and respectful at the same time. “I think his life was a roller coaster. In and out of rehab. Relapse, recovery. Ultimately, he died of an overdose. He tried, though. Multiple times. Gotta give him credit for that.”
“He made you. I’d like to say his life was of value if only for that. And yeah, I mean that selfishly for me.” Briana stopped walking and Dylan paused with her.
“This was his.” Dylan pulled out the St. Michael medal she never took off. “He was wearing it when he died.”
“It’s lovely.” Briana’s hand brushed hers as she touched the medallion. “Are you religious?”
“Not at all, actually.” Dylan didn’t really know what she believed in, but she hadn’t set foot in a church since her grandparents stopped forcing her to go to mass during high school. “I guess I’d say I’m more spiritual than anything else. As far as my dad is concerned, I don’t know if he was religious or not,” she said. “But St. Michael is known as the Protector, the patron saint of police.”
“Oh my.” It seemed Briana understood the significance, and Dylan choked up when she covered her heart with her hand. “He was wearing it for you. A prayer to keep you safe.” The emotion on Briana’s face touched her more than it should.
“I don’t know. Maybe.” Dylan started to walk, but Briana reached for her hand and stopped her.
“He’d be proud of you.”
“You think?”
Briana laced their hands together and looked more sincere than she’d ever seen. “You’re an unbelievable detective. An even better human being. You’re going to dismantle a drug network that’s responsible for at least one overdose, probably countless more. That’s the impact you have on th
e universe. Pretty incredible, if I do say so myself.” Briana held her face and pulled her close for a kiss. “I can’t even get into the effect you have on me. I think you know, but in case you don’t. I’m breaking all my own rules. I can’t seem to stop myself. I don’t even want to.”
Dylan kissed her over and over, forgetting for a second they were outside on the semi-crowded boardwalk.
“Come on, we should walk more.” Breaking from the kiss, Dylan took Briana’s hand and led the way. “It’s not every day we get to do this. We should live it up. I don’t know about you, but it feels like the hiding is getting harder.”
“Ugh. I know what you mean.” Briana rested her head against Dylan’s biceps as they strolled. “I have to remind myself not to touch you constantly. I force myself to make equal eye contact with the other detectives in the plant.”
“Do you?” Dylan smiled. It was nice to know she wasn’t the only one having trouble compartmentalizing these days.
“Yes.” Briana squeezed her hand. “Except for Trish. There’s not enough good karma in the world for me to be anything beyond civil to her. Not while she throws herself at you. Screw that.”
“I’m sorry about the other night. At the bar. I really didn’t know what to do during Trish’s antics. I don’t egg her on—I swear.”
“I know. It’s just…seeing it unfold in the Wine Bar while you two were undercover was one thing. And I know it’ll be even harder the next time. The fact that Trish wants you for real and is so blatant about it. Ugh. Plus, she gets to touch you publicly. It’s not fair.” She tilted her head to the sky, and Dylan imagined she was envisioning it all over. “It’s a lot.”
“It’ll be over soon.” Dylan hoped Briana found comfort in her sentiment because the truth was the investigation still had a long road ahead before a takedown was in sight.
“We’ll see,” Briana said, seeming to acknowledge the end was still a ways off. “Until then, I just have to deal with being your closet girlfriend.”
“Girlfriend.” Dylan covered her chest with both hands, feigning a heart attack. “Oh my God. Briana Logan, are you okay?” She leaned in close. “I know commitment is hard for you. Are you sure you want to put the GF label on it?” She winced to add dramatic effect.
“I’d better be your girlfriend.” Briana took her by both hands and backed them to the boardwalk railing. “Especially if I have to watch Trish Suarez manhandle you.” She added a fake gag. “I’d better be the only one you come home to.”
Dylan looped her arms around her waist, kissed her neck, and whispered in her ear, “I can live with that.”
“I’m serious, Dylan.”
Dylan stopped teasing and looked her in the eye. “I know.” She smiled and felt herself channel the significance of the exchange. “I feel the same way.” Gone was the playfulness of the previous moment. In its place were feelings. Mutual and real and fucking deep. “Bri, I know I joke and tease sometimes. The truth is…” Fuck, she was going for it. She looked past Briana at the ocean in the distance. “I care about you. Like, deeply.”
“Good.” With the lightest caress, Briana guided her face back toward her. The emotion in her rich, expressive eyes said it all, but she spoke anyway. “I care about you too. Deeply,” she added, copying her specific awkward phrasing.
The breeze blew warm and salty around them, marking the moment Dylan knew she would never forget. Their words might have fallen slightly short of the big L, but one thing was clear—they might not be ready to say it, but Dylan was pretty sure they both felt it. And for now, that was enough.
Chapter Eighteen
In mid-December, Dylan and Trish went back to the Wine Bar and acted thrilled that Paul remembered them. Benji raced over to say hello and showed them pics on his phone of Aunt Debbie and her partner Angie from a recent family gathering to prove his endorsement of the gay agenda. They engaged in some brief conversation with the guys, but Dylan cut it short, citing work the next day and promising to come back again soon.
After that, the team let a few meetups pass, opting not to do any undercover inside. They didn’t want the trio to become suspicious, and surveilling them from the outside was enough to establish the Wine Bar was the central hub of the operation. It didn’t take any further convincing to get Briana to agree to write for a warrant to put a bug inside the business. But getting the paperwork up the legal chain during the holiday season was a different story.
The month was filled with soirees, office parties, and vacation. So many distractions meant not only couldn’t they get the authorization needed to move forward in a timely manner, but Dylan was forced to attend several work functions where men and women openly ogled Briana. It killed her to not be able to stand by her side, hold her hand. She knew it bothered Briana too, and when they talked about it at night, Briana reassured her of what she already knew: They were only keeping things secret because of the case. Their careers took precedence, but only for now. It would all be worth it in the end.
Dylan didn’t mind when they spent a quiet romantic New Year’s Eve alone in her apartment, climbing up to the roof to watch local fireworks and kiss at midnight. But on this bitter cold January night, it felt like they were missing out when they passed on dinner with Stef and JJ. Not that Dylan was dying to spend time with her old compadre, but an authentic double date in a legit restaurant with her girlfriend sounded pretty fucking great right about now.
“Want to order tacos?” Briana straddled her lap and kissed her neck. “Or did you want to work up an appetite first?”
She knew Briana was trying to cheer her up, and she appreciated it. Dylan channeled every bit of positivity she could. Kissing her generously, she said, “Whatever you want. I leave it up to you.”
“I always want you.” Briana dotted a kiss on her nose. “But I can tell you’re bummed right now. So let’s eat. We’ll talk it out, okay?”
“I’m sorry.” Dylan let her forehead rest on Briana’s soft chest. “I don’t mean to be a downer.”
“You’re not.” Briana went to the kitchen and took down two tumblers. “I know it’s the dead of winter, but I’m making us margaritas.”
“You are?”
“I am.”
Dylan watched Briana pull a stepstool over to get the tequila stored on the highest shelf. She stood up and went to the kitchen, reaching to grab it with ease.
“Thank you, baby.”
“I love when you call me that.”
“I know you do.” Briana cut up a lime. “I have to be so careful at work. I’ve almost slipped and called you baby a hundred times.”
Dylan stretched her arms across the counter and watched Briana work. “Why is this so hard?” she said rhetorically.
“It’s just for now. We just have to get through it. And we will.” Briana smiled at her, and her good cheer was contagious. “Will you get the triple sec down too? It’s on that same shelf.”
Dylan handed it over. “I don’t even know why I’m being a baby about dinner tonight. It’s not like I’m dying to hang out with JJ. It just got to me for some reason.”
“Why don’t you like her? JJ, I mean. You never really said.”
“It’s not that I don’t like her.” Dylan didn’t quite know how to properly convey how she felt about JJ. Their friendship had been all highs and lows. In the past there’d been times she felt like JJ had looked out for her, but then on a dime, things would turn, and it was as though she was left blowing in the breeze. In the end, Dylan decided friendship wasn’t worth that kind of emotional whiplash. But even hearing the explanation in her head made her feel responsible for their dissolution, and she didn’t think that was an accurate representation. “I’m shocked that she and Stef are still going strong,” Dylan said instead, steering the conversation to less complicated terrain.
“You and me both,” Briana said, filling their glasses with ice. “But hey, who are we to judge, right?”
“No, you’re right. If Stef’s happy, that’s all that matte
rs.”
“And JJ. I’d venture so far as to say she’s happy too.”
“JJ’s always happy when she’s getting attention.”
“There it is.” Briana bumped her hip. “I knew there was a story.”
“There’s not. Not really.” Dylan laughed at Briana calling her out. “She just…when we used to hang, she would get mad if I got more attention than she did.”
“Oh my God, I bet it drove her crazy when girls went for you over her.”
“That rarely happened.”
“I do not believe that.”
“You should. It’s the truth.” Dylan was being honest. Because even when there was a chance of her winning the one-sided competition JJ was always intent on having, Dylan typically threw up a white flag. She learned fast that getting the girl wasn’t worth dealing with JJ’s bruised ego. “Losing makes JJ vicious. She can be mean.”
“That, I believe.” Briana widened her eyes. “I’ve seen her in court.”
“I’m sure she’s no picnic to be around when the verdict doesn’t go in her favor.”
“I wouldn’t know,” Briana said. “She doesn’t lose.” Of course she didn’t. How annoying. Briana gave their drinks a final stir. “JJ’s a brilliant attorney. She’s thorough. Compelling. Persuasive,” she said, still singing her praise.
“I’m sure.”
“But that doesn’t give her the right to treat anyone badly.” Briana handed over her drink. “Taste that.”
Dylan took one sip and almost melted. “This is delicious. Thank you.” She took another hefty swig, blown away by how good it was. “Where did you learn to make amazing margaritas?” she asked.
“I worked as a bartender for many years.”
“No. Really?”
Briana’s gorgeous smile was coupled with a nod. “True story.”
“When?”
“Well, in high school I waited tables at the local Houlihan’s. But there was a bartender there who taught me how to make drinks. In college and law school I leveraged that skill to get bartending jobs. It was pretty lucrative.”
“After tasting this”—Dylan raised her glass—“I don’t doubt it.” She leaned in to kiss her. “Your beautiful face and amazing personality probably helped you score mega tips too.” She didn’t want Briana to think she was minimizing her mixology skills. “Really, though, this is amazing. Is there anything you can’t do?”
Bulletproof Page 15
