Curran

Declan polishes off his sausage stew. “What’s going on with you and Contessa?” he asks me. “You barely talk to her, and she keeps her distance.”

That’s because she doesn’t want you to know what’s going on between us. “Nothing. She’s a good kid.” I take the last bite of my sandwich. Damn, it’s good.

“Did you piss her off?”

“Not lately,” I say, truthfully.

“Then what’s up? Every time you’re in the same room, there’s all this goddamn tension between you.”

“Nah. It’s just your imagination.”

My phone buzzes. I have to work not to grin when I see the text from Tess.

Thanks for dinner again, cop.

Speak of the devil in argyles and corduroy. I glance at the time. Looks like she’s on break between her Torts and Civil Liability classes.

Last night, I cooked her my specialty: Velveeta Shells and Cheese smothered with sautéed mushrooms and onions, just like I did the first night she spent at my place. I tap on the keyboard. You’re welcome. If you’d like, I can make you ravioli tomorrow night.

Ravioli? Is this another secret recipe passed down from your ancestors—like your gourmet grilled cheese?

Oh, yeah, I type. It was given to me by our great uncle, the Chef of the Boyardee.

I hit send, only to catch Declan watching me. “You like her, don’t you?”

“Who?”

He rolls his eyes. “You know who. Contessa.”

“You mean Tess? Yeah. I told you, she’s a good kid.”

“That’s not what I’m saying, and you know it,” he tells me, pushing his empty bowl aside. “The problem is, you can’t have her.”

I roll my neck from side to side. “Why? Because she works with you?”

“No. To be honest, I’m willing to ignore that fact.”

“Is that so? Why the change of heart?”

“Because I think she might be good for you.”

This makes me grin. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. Problem is, I don’t think you stand a chance at getting her.”

“I did before,” I shoot back, reaching for a leftover pickle.

“Back then you had a keg and Jell-O shots working to your advantage. That’s not the case anymore.” Declan leans back in his chair, one of his more arrogant smirks playing across his face as he swirls the glass of water in his hand. “You know what your problem is?”

I scroll through my phone. “Nope. But I bet you’re going to tell me.”

“You don’t know how to treat a lady.”

This time, it’s my turn to meet him with a cocky grin. “I don’t?”

“Nope,” he says, emphasizing the “p.”

“Is that a fact—but I take it you do, right?”

“Damn right. Curran, you may have your moves. You may get laid, but you don’t know how to treat a classy broad. A woman like Contessa—”

“Tess,” I clarify again.

His smile widens. “Okay, we’ll play it your way. A woman like Tess is used to a certain guy—refined, highly educated, and driven.”

He’s starting to piss me off. “Like you?”

“That’s right. You need to put on the charm. Open doors, shit like that.”

“Shit like how?”

His smile fades. “Don’t be an asshole. I’m trying to teach you something here, so pay attention.”

I show him my phone. “Oh, I’m taking copious notes, believe me. Teach me, Obi-Wan Kenobi. You’re my only hope.”

“Women love me,” he says in the same way I ask for the time.

“Do they?”

“They do. I get dates. All the time. You know why?”

“They think you have money, and want you to be their sugar daddy.”

“No. I—”

“They lost a bet.”

“No.”

“They prefer men with small dicks.”

It’s then that Assistant District Attorney O’Brien loses his cool and nails me in the face with a roll. To his credit, he does it when no one’s looking, or because no one at Rhonda’s Bistro gives a shit.

“My dick is bigger than yours, and you goddamn know it.”

I laugh. “Says you.”

“Look,” he says, adjusting his tie. “You’re pissing me off, but I’m still going to give you some free advice.”

“You’re a hell of a guy.”

“Do you want the goddamn advice or not?”

I’m kind of curious what Declan has to say, even though it’s probably straight-up bullshit. “Sure. Let ’er rip.”

He leans back again and spreads out his hands. “Treat her like she’s a goddess.”

“Goddess?” I repeat.

“Yeah, you know, like your world isn’t the same until you see her smile, touch her skin, and breathe the same air she does.”

Holy God.

“Bring her flowers for absolutely no reason. When she asks you why, let her know it was because you missed her, and couldn’t stop thinking about her.”

And couldn’t stop thinking about her?

Declan continues like this is the greatest advice ever despite my WTF expression.

“Take her hand, interlacing your fingers with hers. Draw her close to you when it’s cold to shield her from the bitter wind.”

“Jesus, Declan.”

“You say Jesus. I say help her off with her coat, and you’ll be helping her out of her panties next.”

I nod. “Okay. Got it.” I go back to eyeing my phone, grinning when I see Tess’s reply. If I pick up her list of ingredients, she’ll make me dinner tonight. Sweet.

“You already fucked her, didn’t you?” Declan asks, looking stunned.

He can’t see my phone, but he knows me well enough. “Oh, hell yeah. And I didn’t even have to shield her against the bitter wind.”

In fact, Tess and I have been spending every night together for the past month. The last few nights have been at my place; tonight I’ll be at hers. But that’s my business, not his. My phone buzzes. Another text, this time from Wren. “Hey, Wren wants to hit Merve’s next week for brews and wings. You want to go?”

“You think I’m full of shit.”

“Yup. So you up for it? She’s thinking either Wednesday or Thursday.”

He ignores me. “Pick a woman here. Anyone between the ages of twenty-two and forty-two, without a ring.”

I know where he’s headed, but I ask anyway. “Why?”

“I want you to watch me pick her up. By tomorrow night at the latest, her legs will be locked like a vise around my hips and she’ll be calling to God, Jesus, and anywhere from three to four disciples.” He scoffs when I laugh. “Come on. I’m serious. Pick one out and watch me work my magic.”

Declan’s always been a player. Always. Political aspirations aside, he doesn’t commit, and I’m not sure he ever will. But if he ever does, one thing I know: he’ll never cheat, and he’ll never look back. Nope. If Declan ever falls for someone, it’s going to be hard and there won’t be anything to cushion his landing.

So for now, I’ll play his game.

As a cop, even one out of serious commission, I have certain ingrained skills that will never leave me. Even though I’ve been talking, flipping through my phone, and lookin’ like I’m bored out of my mind, I’ve checked out everyone in the bistro, cased the emergency exits, eyed those wandering in, watched anyone who’s left, paid attention to who follows who into the bathroom, and kept tabs on everyone who passed by the large picture window across from us. I expect everything, and maybe nothing at all.

I do another sweep of the small room. There are lots of women here who fit Declan’s criteria. Some have given us the once-over a handful of times. Even now, one smiles my way. She’s pretty, no denying it, but I don’t really care. A fact that gives me a shitload of pause. My attention wanders to the smaller group of tables on my right. It’s there I find her: the right gal for Declan to release his mad moves on.

She’s a brunette, with thick hair that curls just below her shoulders. She walked in alone and is flipping through the pages of a paperback in between bites of her salad. She’s not Declan’s type. In a red dress with tiny white polka dots that hug her hourglass body, she’s more fifties pinup babe than the Barbie dolls Declan usually goes for. Her profile is to us, giving me only a small view of her deep red lips and creamy skin. She might be plain or she might be beautiful; the way her dark hair veils part of her face, there’s no real way to tell. That doesn’t matter, though. Declan never said anything about looks.

I motion with a tilt of my head. “Brunette, red dress. Tucked in the corner.”

Declan angles his body in her direction. He sighs, clearly uninterested. “Fine. But I thought you’d give me a challenge.”

He stands and fixes his jacket. I adjust my seat in the small booth to get a better look, but not enough that it’s obvious I’m watching the show. I chuckle when she crosses her legs and turns the page of her book just as he reaches her. Declan’s right; this girl won’t be a challenge. She seems lonely, defenseless even. Yeah. Glad we didn’t make a bet. This girl’s going down.

Probably on my brother.

“Hello, miss,” he says, keeping his deep voice quiet. “Forgive me, I don’t usually approach women this way, but you look stunning in that dress.”

“Polka dots” turns another page without so much as smiling.

Declan cocks his head, probably dumbstruck as to why this chick isn’t giving him the eye and why she’s still in her panties.

But big bro won’t be deterred. “I apologize for being so forward. But my position as assistant district attorney doesn’t allow me time to meet many women, especially one as lovely as yourself. Would you mind if joined you?”

Holy Mother. He went for the kill and threw in the DA card to seal the deal. Declan’s not messing around.

The chick sighs and turns another page. I straighten. She still hasn’t even glanced up. Declan makes a motion with his hand like, “Don’t worry. I got this,” and lowers himself into the seat opposite her. He chuckles when the woman lifts her chin and finally acknowledges him. He holds his smile, showing off his perfect teeth. “You’re the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen in a red dress,” he tells her.

She knits her brows.

He laughs again. “Come on, you’re not deaf, are you? I’m trying to tell you you’re beautiful.”

She drops her book and stiffens, using her hands to sign. The term is “hearing impaired,” asshole, she snaps.

It’s then that Declan pales whiter than my ass. Before his mouth pops open and his face turns a serious shade of red. “Miss, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean—”

The woman rummages through her purse and throws down a twenty. “Save it for someone who’ll actually swallow your bullshit, loser.”

She doesn’t bother signing this time—her hands are too busy snagging her book, purse, and coat. She stomps past me, fire practically shooting out of her heels.

Contrary to popular belief, I’m a sensitive and classy guy. So I wait for her to storm out of the bistro and cross the street, and for Declan to plop down in front of me, before laughing my ass off—at him.

“That’s not funny,” he growls.

“Holy shit, you went down in flames.”

“Shut up, Curran.”

“I mean like a fighter plane doused in gasoline, shot with a bazooka, into a burning field.”

“Are you done?” he asks.

I wipe my tears with the back of my hand. “No, dickless. Did it ever occur to you that she might actually be deaf? I mean, come on, Declan. Didn’t you learn anything from all those sensitivity classes you were forced to take? People have special needs—”

“No kidding—I know that. Fuck, I’m going to hell for this one.” He leans in close. “Look, I thought she was, you know, playing me. I’d never insult anyone like that, especially someone who has issues like her—”

“Issues?” I repeat, no longer laughing.

His face tightens. “Someone like her must have struggled. It can’t be easy being a non-hearing person in a hearing world.”

I throw out a hand. “Maybe if you would have started off with something more like that, you would’ve actually stood a chance at getting those legs wrapped around you.”

“I was going for charming,” he says, rubbing his face.

“No. You were going for someone you thought could hear that charm. Maybe you should have gone for sensitive. Then you would’ve had your ass spanked like you wanted to, instead of having it handed back to you.”

“Do you mind? I already feel like a big prick.”

“Well, you should.” I start to laugh again, but then back off when I see just how bad he feels. “Look. The important thing is you didn’t mean it.”

“Of course I didn’t mean it. I would never intentionally mistreat someone—especially a woman.” He curses again and glances in the direction she disappeared. “I should try to find her and apologize.”

“Nah. If it looks like you’re stalking her, it’ll only take you from asshole to creep and you’ll end up on some list. Trust me, if you want that promotion into Homicide, you’re better off just letting it go.”

“I don’t know,” he says, keeping his focus outside. “That was a total shit move, Curran.”

“Declan, relax. Say a few Hail Marys, donate your next paycheck to the church, and thank God that you’ll never see her again.”

He goes quiet. Real quiet, likely thinking things through. “Maybe you’re right,” he finally says. “Some things are better off left alone….”