Drop Dead Gorgeous(82)
Zoey whoops out a laugh and holds me tighter. “Does that include a new sleep shirt?”
“Absolutely not. No clothes for you or me, Miss Walker. That way, I can slip right back inside you when we wake up. Hell, I might just sleep all tucked up inside, warm and cozy.”
*
After round two, or maybe it’s three, we lay in Zoey’s bed. It’s lumpier than mine, but I like that it makes her melt into me, her head on my shoulder and her leg thrown over mine. But we don’t sleep. We don’t even pretend we’re going to, leaving the lamp on so we can see each other. I’ve missed just seeing her.
Instead of sleep, we talk all night, about everything we’ve missed in the last few days and nothing of consequence, until the elephant in the room tap dances its way to the center and forces us to acknowledge it.
“What do you think is going to happen tomorrow?” she asks around four in the morning. “Well, technically today, I guess.” I can hear the worry making her voice tight, and I press a soft kiss to her forehead.
“We’ll tell the truth and then the judge will decide. That’s all there is to it. Maybe they’ll even settle beforehand? Two-thirds of cases do, before they even reach a courtroom.”
“Of course, you would know that,” she says with a smile, but then it frays a bit as she adds, “I don’t think Yvette is the settling type.”
I agree with Zoey. “Yvette’s looking for the biggest payout and is willing to do anything to get it.” I remember the look in Yvette’s eyes when she came to my office—flat, cold, unfeeling. I don’t like the idea of Yvette being in the same room as Zoey.
If anything goes wrong, from a smoke detector going off to a herd of invading chickens, Zoey’s going to blame herself, believing her curse is striking again.
But I really do think Yvette will do anything for this money. She already killed for it, and that makes her dangerous. Much more so than I thought when we started this Scooby Doo investigation.
But I swallow that down, not wanting to scare Zoey any more than she already seems to be.
“So, what do we do?”
“Nothing.” Zoey looks up at me in surprise so I repeat myself. “Nothing. We’re box checkers, remember? We tell the truth and let the judge do his job.” That’s my new mantra. I only hope it’s enough. “That’s all we can do.”
Zoey is so quiet, I can almost hear her mind playing out scenarios and stressing over them. I squeeze her and run my hand along her arm soothingly. “Can we let that stay in the future and enjoy what’s left of tonight? I’ve been dreaming of holding you like this.”
“Me too,” she confesses quietly. “I was afraid you’d forget about me with a whole week apart. Or decide I was too much work.”
That’s enough for me to pull her up to straddle my hips. I cup her face, pinning her with my gaze. “You and me, Zo. I’m okay, you’re okay, we’re okay. I promise.”
It’s a bit self-help-ish as far as speeches go, but Zoey’s eyes drift closed and she takes a big breath, as though she can inhale my calm reassurance and use it to soothe her own worries.
“You wanna take my coaster—a little reminder of my wood—to court in your purse?” I ask with a teasing smile even though I’m dead serious. “Nobody will even know.”
Zoey looks at the circle of wood and marble that’s sitting on her nightstand where I dropped it with my phone. Her cheeks blush slightly, but her lips tilt up the slightest bit. “Can I?”
“It’s yours, Zo.”
She bends forward, planting a kiss on my lips that I feel to my toes and everywhere in between.
“What was that for?”
“For being you and for not making me feel like I’m weird.”
“You’re not weird. You’re perfect. Gross body exploration aside.” I stick my tongue out in disgust, and she laughs, breaking the somber mood.
“Did you know . . . stomach acid can dissolve razor blades?”
I chuckle, enjoying the pleasurable way she bounces on my hips. “I actually did know that. Stomach acid has a pH of 1.5-3.5, plenty acidic to dissolve steel.”
“Ugh, why is it so sexy that you know that?” Zoey groans, but she’s looking at me with fire and desire in her eyes again.
I grin, reaching around to cup her ass and giving it a squeeze. We’ve got time for one more quickie before I have to go.
“Just lucky, I guess.”
Chapter 21
Zoey
“This is freaking me out,” I tell Jeff the next morning.
The courtroom is only two floors up from my basement office, but it feels like a world away even though it’s not fancy. Stackable chairs lined out in three rows, linoleum floors from the 70s, and a trio of wood desks up front for the attorneys and judge shouldn’t be intimidating.
But I have never had to testify and certainly haven’t had to do it in a professional capacity in my short career. I don’t even know if Grandpa ever testified. I wish I could ask him.
But there’s a first time for everything, and like too many firsts, I’ll do it alone.
“It’s no big deal,” Jeff says while sipping his coffee. He’s the picture of morning chill, seemingly not caring at all that he’s in court instead of working at his desk downstairs.