Rock Chick Rescue (Rock Chick #2)(65)
Author: Kristen Ashley

“I’ve also learned how to make you sweet,” he murmured against my cheek.

I had to admit, he’d definitely learned that.

I turned my head and ran my tongue down his neck.

I tasted water and Eddie, and I didn’t feel grouchy anymore.

* * * * *

After our somewhat prolonged and unbelievably enjoyable shower, I brushed my teeth, pul ed on some underwear and one of Eddie’s clean t-shirts and wandered into the kitchen to make coffee. I couldn’t find his coffee maker, in fact, I couldn’t find much of anything.

I went back to the bathroom, knocked on a door that was already opened and entered at Eddie’s cal . He was standing at the sink, wearing jeans and nothing else, shaving.

“I can’t find your coffee maker,” I said.

His eyes slid to me.

“I don’t have one.”

I stared.

Everyone had a coffee maker. This was America.

Even more, Eddie was a cop. Everyone knew cops drank lots of coffee and ate donuts.

I looked at Eddie’s rock-hard abs.

Okay, so maybe Eddie didn’t eat donuts.

I shook off my surprise.

“I can’t find your kettle or any instant,” I tried.

“I don’t have a kettle or instant coffee.” I kept staring.

“What do you do for coffee?”

His eyes went back to the mirror.

“I go to Fortnum’s.”

“Wel then, what do I do for coffee, like, right now?” I asked.

“Get ready for work?” he suggested.

I put on The Glare.

“You need a woman,” I told him, trying to be uppity and throw some attitude.

It wasn’t a smart thing to do.

His eyes came back to me and his expression turned my bones to water.

Eek!

I left the bathroom.

I slapped on minimal makeup, put on jeans and a v-necked, scarlet-red, long-sleeved t-shirt that Mom bought me and yes, you guessed it, it was skintight. I blew my hair dry and pul ed it back in a ponytail holder. Because I felt in the mood, I put on a pair of kick-butt, high-heeled, tan boots and a belt so wide, it strained the limits of my belt loops.

Eddie pul ed on a long-sleeved, white, thermal t-shirt, his jeans, boots and belt, took his gun and cuffs from the drawer in the bedside table and clipped them to the belt on his jeans. His final touch was to grab his badge from the his jeans. His final touch was to grab his badge from the dresser and hook it on his belt.

I picked up my purse and we rol ed out the backdoor.

We were halfway across the yard when I noticed Eddie scanning. My stomach clenched and I started scanning too, looking for heads peering over Eddie’s tal fence. He unlocked the garage and we were in the truck, waiting for the garage door to open, Eddie watching it through his rearview mirror, al the while fishing in his pocket. Then he held out a set of keys to me.

“Keys to the house,” was al he said.

I took them. My stomach clenched again and he started the truck. He was about to put the truck in gear when I put my hand on his forearm. He didn’t move his hand, but his eyes came to mine.

There were a lot of things to say.

“Thank you” being the biggest one on the list, but the words weren’t good enough.

“I’m sorry to be a pain in the ass” was another one that was way up there.

I knew I should say something, anything, but I didn’t know what to say.

“I don’t know what to say,” I said.

His eyebrows came up.

I took my hand from his arm and looked away.

“Chiquita, is this about the keys?” he asked.

“It’s about everything,” I told the window.

Silence.

“Hey,” he said quietly and I looked at him.

His eyes were serious.

“I’m guessin’ you feel you owe me big just about now.” I nodded.

He smiled slowly. First the dimple, then his lips curved, then his white teeth came out.

I narrowed my eyes at him, turned away, did my seatbelt and crossed my arms on my chest. “I really don’t like you,” I said.

He laughed.

“I’m not joking.”

“You’re so ful of shit.” But he said it like it was a good thing.

Wonderful.

* * * * *

We walked into Fortnum’s together. It was a few minutes before opening but there were already two people waiting to get in. I let them in and left the door open. Jane and Tex were behind the coffee counter. They both looked up when we arrived and Tex opened his mouth to boom but I got there first.

“Eddie doesn’t have a coffee maker. Coffee! Now! No lip!” I snapped.

I went directly behind the counter and stared at Tex as he banged around the espresso machine, making me a strong Americano at the same time he made Eddie a cappuccino.

The whole time, he was grinning.

I handed Eddie the cappuccino that Tex gave me, sloshed milk into my Americano and took a sip without stirring it.

I looked at Tex. He was stil grinning.

“What’s funny?”

“You, Loopy Loo.” His eyes moved to Eddie, “Sorry Chavez, but she’s a lot more fun when people are shootin’

at her.”

“You’re a nut,” I told him.

“That I am, darlin’,” he replied, unperturbed, and turned to the first customer.

Eddie backed me into the counter behind the espresso machine.

“Gotta go,” he said, his arms sliding around me, one hand stil holding the cup.

My hands were between us and it was either wind them around him or spil coffee over both of us. As coffee was a life force at that moment, I wound my arms around him.

His eyes had that warm and tender look.

“After work, we’l go shoppin’ for a coffee maker,” he said.

Dear Lord.

Shopping with Eddie for a coffee maker.

How did this happen?

I just stopped myself from checking to see if my hair and eyebrows had burned off considering our relationship was progressing at the speed of light.

He watched me and then his face came closer to mine. “I hate to say this, but part of me likes that you’re forced in a corner, that way you can’t retreat and I can see you real y want to.”

It was my turn to watch him.

“What happens when I’m out of that corner and I don’t need you to rescue me anymore?”

It was the six mil ion dol ar question and I held my breath waiting for the answer.

“One thing at a time,” he said.

Not the right answer.

“No, I real y want to know. What happens when I’m not getting shot at and I’m not interesting anymore?” His eyes changed and he looked at me as if I’d asked him if I could spend the afternoon painting his house in shades of Pepto-Bismol and adorning the front yard with plastic flamingos.