Chapter Twenty-Four
Jo was aware of soft lips on the back of her shoulder.
Gill.
Even through closed eyelids she could tell the sun had barely started to rise. She moaned and burrowed deeper into her pillow.
Gill’s teeth scraped her shoulder.
I can get used to this.
“You’re not asleep.”
“Yes, I am,” she muttered.
He kissed her again.
She opened one eye, peeked over the shoulder he was claiming. “You’re dressed.”
Gill rested his chin in her shoulder, the freshness of his breath, the soap on his skin told her she’d slept through him getting up and taking a shower. “I have to leave.”
“Why?” She rolled over, didn’t try to cover herself when the sheet slipped to reveal her naked breasts.
Gill’s gaze wandered. “That Instagram account hit a hotspot. I’m meeting Shauna in twenty minutes.”
Jo moaned, more than a little disappointed to have to share him.
“Sorry.” He leaned down, kissed the top of one breast.
“I understand.”
“I don’t know when I’ll be back.”
She glanced across the room at the digital clock on his side of the bed. “It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not. I wanted to spend the day with you.”
“I have things to do at home anyway. No worries.” She didn’t, but letting him off the hook felt like the right thing to do.
He sat taller on the bed. “Take your time.”
She closed her eyes and grinned. “I’m going to find your little black book and erase all the numbers,” she threatened.
When he didn’t tease her back, she opened her eyes to find him staring, his expression endearing.
“What?” she asked.
Gill didn’t say a thing. Instead, he bent down and touched his lips to hers, made sure his kiss reached the depths of her soul before pulling back.
Aroused and missing him already, she asked, “What was that for?”
“For being here.”
Jo reached up and touched his cheek.
He leaned into her palm.
“Be safe.”
He kissed her palm and stood from the bed.
She leaned onto her elbows, watched as he tucked his service weapon into the holster inside his jacket. “Good luck finding that black book,” he said when he reached the door.
“Oh, I’ll find it.”
Gill shook his head once and paused. “I threw it away in Virginia, when I knew I’d see you again.”
And then he was gone.
Jaw slack, his words sank in. And in a completely girlie fashion, Jo flopped back on the bed with a silly grin on her face. Her fingers landed on a pair of handcuffs on his side of the bed. Images of the previous night had her giggling.
And Jo never giggled.
“You know what the problem is with these puppies?” Zoe asked.
Jo had lingered in Gill’s space longer than she thought she would. For fun, she left a few notes throughout his house saying she’d searched the drawers or the cupboards for his black book, when in fact the only thing she’d done was clean up after them and make his bed. She’d deny sniffing his pillow if asked. Now she sat on the floor with a litter of puppies and the small bottles needed to feed their hungry mouths. “What’s that?”
Zoe petted the head of the puppy she was feeding. “They grow on you.”
“You’re caving.”
“I don’t need a dog.”
Three of the animals were sleeping, sprawled on top of each other, while the others were bouncing about, one particularly noisy since it hadn’t been fed.
“Good thing they are off to Luke’s parents’ tomorrow.”
The puppies had made the rounds. Every family member, every friend, even the neighbors had taken turns with the furry bundles. Cherie couldn’t look at them without crying. No one in River Bend was willing to make her look at them. The older dogs were taken in by Luke’s parents, and animal control had backed off once word got out about Jezebel’s demise.
Zoe cooed. “I don’t need a dog.”
She was a goner.
Jo refused to let the tiny tongue that was licking her hand affect her emotions. Even when the owner of that tiny tongue crawled on her lap and circled three times before nestling into the crook in the back of her knee. No. The animal had no effect on her.
None whatsoever.
“You don’t need a dog,” Zoe said, laughing.
Jo glared. “We don’t need dogs.”
“I’m so screwed.”
Jo laughed.
“Tell me about Gill. Take my mind off my doom.” Zoe cuddled the animal that had her name on it.
“I’m not sure I can. He’s . . .” Jo blew out a breath. “Unexpected.”
“Elaborate, please.”
The map of their relationship sat before her and she still couldn’t figure out where she stood. She looked for the space where an arrow pointed, stating “you are here,” and she couldn’t find it. “I’m not like you . . . not like Mel.”
“In what way?”
“I’m not a serial monogamist.”
Zoe blinked a few times. “Serial what?”
“I’m not a relationship girl. I don’t know that I can truly say I’ve ever had one. Not with any regularity.”
Zoe looked to the ceiling for answers. Didn’t find them. “What about after high school? Wasn’t there someone in Waterville?”
“Do you remember his name?”
Zoe shook her head.
“Exactly. I had . . . there were a couple of guys. None stuck. Once I turned into River Bend’s finest . . . there was less than that.”
“That’s sad.”
“It’s true.”
“Doesn’t make it less sad.”
“Then Gill slips into my life like a knife in butter and I’m sitting here daydreaming about the man.”
That had Zoe smiling . . . all toothy like. “What’s wrong with that?”
“It can’t last.” The reality of that hit hard.
“Why not?”
“We’re both cops. Kinda.”
Zoe stared. “What does that mean?”
“Do you know what the divorce rate is for those with a badge?”
Zoe’s stare turned into a grin. “Did he ask you to marry him?”
“Oh, good God, no.” Jo almost choked.
Her friend’s smile fell. “Then why are you worried about divorce?”
“I’m not. I’m saying . . . it can’t last. Even the way it is, it can’t last.”
“Why the hell not?”
Why the hell not? Jo closed her eyes, saw her father . . . smelled the distant memory of her mother’s perfume. Then she pictured Gill. He stood in the suit she saw him in that first day in Virginia. He was standing in a parking lot, one like that of the pizza parlor. From nowhere, shots fired.
She flinched.
“I think you’re coming up with excuses.”
“Cops die, and marriages fail. It just won’t work.”
When Jo opened her eyes, she took in Zoe’s. In them were tears.
“When did you know Consuela was the one?”
The question sat in the air for a good minute before Lee answered.
“Is she the one?”
“Christ, Lee . . . how do you know?”
Gill’s best friend laughed over the phone. “You could do a lot worse.”
“Don’t I know it.” The images of countless others swam before him. Blondes, brunettes . . . and the redheads. Lord knew they were all wrong. Right for right then but wrong to be left alone in his home. Wrong for being stuck in his head like an endless loop of a love song he couldn’t shake.
“If it’s any consolation, I like Jo. She’s a little guarded, but that’s to be expected.”
“How so?”
“She’s an orphan, Gill.”
The word orphan never entered his head. Yet when he thought of it, he saw a child standing on a street corner, looking around for someone to take care of them. “I never thought of her that way.”
“That’s because she’s an expert at hiding it.”
Gill sat looking at one of the half dozen notes Jo had left throughout his home, her handwriting burned into his memory. Your kitchen is a mess . . . do you ever cook? He’d laughed when he found that in his cupboard. He remembered when he’d gone through her kitchen and found it overboard neat. Remembered how happy he was to see her sloppy in her refrigerator.
“She doesn’t fake anything.”
“I didn’t say fake. I said hiding. Faking is on purpose, hiding is defensive. One is protective, the other is deceptive.”
“How the hell did you become so perceptive?”
Lee laughed. “Do you know how many people look past you when you’re in a wheelchair? I have more opportunity to study people than anyone else.”
Gill sighed. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“Which one?”
“When did you know Consuela was the one?”
Another long pause. “Why are you and Jo working?”
“Well, the sex—”
“You can get sex anywhere.”
Lee was right about that. “I don’t know . . . she’s the right amount of angel, the perfect amount of she-devil. She likes the Harley and carries a badge for reasons bigger than her.”
“Reminds me of someone I know.”
“I’m not an angel.”
“Why do you wear a badge?”
Gill didn’t have a reason like Jo’s. “It’s what I know.”
“The case you’re working on . . . what’s the name of the last victim?”
“Pete Shafer.” His answer was immediate. The image of the kid who would never see his eighteenth birthday swam in his head.
“Your Pete is almost like Jo’s father. Jo’s might be personal, but they are both just as important. That is what makes Jo attractive to you.”
“Jo’s a knockout without any of that.”
“I’m not going to disagree. But looks are temporary. The part of Jo that has you coming to me asking what made me realize my woman was the one is staring you in the face.”
“I thought opposites were supposed to attract.”
“Balance, my friend. She reminds you of your rebellious nature, and I’m guessing you do the same for her.”
Gill couldn’t help but laugh. “My rebellious half wouldn’t have spent the last ten minutes talking about relationships.”
“Mr. Rebellion rushes forth and does things, Mr. Responsibility spends time burning your friend’s ear about girls.”