In Safe Hands (Search and Rescue #4)(50)
Without even trying to hide his amusement, Chris put his coffee aside and moved toward her. Not sure what he was planning, Daisy eyed his approach warily. He grabbed either side of her waist and lifted her, making her squawk in surprise, and then deposited her onto the counter. The unexpected assistance made her wobble, and he waited in front of her, his hands still at her waist, until she steadied.
“Good?” he asked, retreating a step, although he kept his arms extended as if to catch her if she fell.
“Uh…yes?”
Chris returned to his corner and his coffee, leaving her feeling off balance in a couple of ways. That was twice in five minutes that he’d voluntarily touched her, and any Chris contact, no matter how fleeting, had the power to destroy her equilibrium.
“So…” It took her a second to pick up the conversation where they’d left off. “Did you get a chance to look into the arsons?”
That made him scowl at his mug. “No. For some reason, the arson reports aren’t filed with the rest. I couldn’t find the call notes in the computer system, either. I’m going to have to stop by during nonvampire hours and talk to Stacy in Records to see if she knows where they’re stored.”
“Why would the reports on those calls be treated differently?” Daisy wasn’t familiar with the department’s record-keeping system, but it seemed strange to her that one type of report would be kept elsewhere.
“Could be because Fire’s involved,” Chris offered. “Rob and Chief Early are both responsible for the suspected arson investigations. With interagency cases, the paperwork’s gotta be a beast.”
She nodded, took a sip of her coffee, and then asked, “Not that I’m complaining, since I’m always happy to see you, even in the predawn darkness—”
“The sun’s been up for hours.” When she looked skeptical, he amended his statement. “Well, maybe not hours, but it’s definitely not predawn.”
“Anyway…” She stretched out the word. Although Chris rolled his eyes, he stayed quiet. “Is there any reason for your daily visits to Daisyville?”
He choked a little on his coffee. When she looked at him questioningly, he just shook his head, declining to explain his reaction. Instead, he coughed and said in a slightly strangled voice, “A lot’s been happening lately. I get worried.”
That wasn’t a very satisfying answer. “You can’t just text? If you abbreviate obnoxiously, it’s only four letters—R, U, O, and K.”
“Doesn’t work when you don’t answer your phone.”
“Hey, I take sleep where I can get it, even if it’s the hard floor of the training room.” Swinging a leg, she tried to kick him, but the kitchen was too wide. “And quit dodging the question.”
“Why didn’t you…never mind.” He shook his head. “I’m not dodging the question. I already answered it. Stuff’s been going on around here, and there’s been a lot to discuss.” Glaring at his coffee a lot harder than it probably deserved, he was quiet for a few moments. “I like talking things out with you. I’ll be in the middle of a call where something crazy is happening, and I’ll think, ‘I can’t wait to tell Dais about this.’”
His admission made her stomach warmer than the coffee had. “I like talking to you, too. It wasn’t a complaint. I was just curious.”
“And I promised I’d look at your stove.”
They were both quiet for several sips until Chris spoke again.
“So…you made brownies?”
*
After she and Chris ate two-thirds of the pan of brownies for breakfast, she grabbed her laptop and settled on the kitchen floor to keep him company while he checked out the recalcitrant burner.
“Looking at porn?” he asked, lifting the grates off the top of the stove.
“Not unless there’s such a thing as antique doll porn.” Before he could respond, she hurried to add, “And if there is, I don’t want to know. There are some things you can’t unlearn.”
He raised the top of the stove and propped it on the bracing rod. “If you can think of it, there’s porn related to it. People have dirty, dirty minds.”
“Chris. What did I just say about wanting to remain blissfully ignorant?”
With a snort, he asked, “So you’re actually going to try to sell those things?”
“Figured it was the quickest way to get them out of the house, unless I can convince you to take them to give away to kids.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Firefighters do it.”
Turning away from whatever he was messing with, he gave her a look. “Fire gives kids cute little stuffed animals, not one of those…things.” He gestured toward the box. “People already love firefighters more than cops. I don’t need to make it worse.”
“Some people,” Daisy corrected, and he gave her a grin before turning back to the stove. Even using a lighter, he didn’t seem to be having any luck getting the burner to work. Since watching him wave an open flame around a gas appliance—even if that appliance involved fire on a regular basis—made her nerves twitch, Daisy turned her attention back to her laptop.
She frowned at a photo, trying to recall if the doll in the picture matched either of the ones her dad had given her. The few times she’d opened the box, she hadn’t wanted to look too closely, so she couldn’t recall any distinguishing features. With a groan, she put her laptop aside and climbed to her feet. Her sound of dread shifted to a grunt of effort as her muscles protested.