After We Fall (Take the Fall, #3)(13)

She turns those pretty eyes on me. “You’re jealous of him?”

“Hell, no. Do you know how much more of a caseload he’ll get now? And the cost of the non-uniform uniform he’ll have to wear each day? No, thanks, I’ll keep walking in the blue.” I rinse off the top of the truck and then begin to work on the hood. To my eternal surprise and gratefulness, Evangeline follows me, squatting down to get the low parts. It’s a gesture that I find to be very thoughtful without her knowing why.

I’m a big guy, so me and low spaces don’t always get along too well. Plus, my knee pops like a son of a bitch when I sit, stand, or squat for any length of time. I’d like to say that I got the injured knee from fighting, but it was actually something majorly stupid.

And less cool.

I step to one side and my knee creaks like a door opening in a haunted house.

“Was that you?” she asks, her gaze zeroing in on my legs.

“Bad knee.” Great. Trying to avoid that conversation. Wait. Who cares if she asks about my knee? It means she’ll keep talking, and if she keeps talking, I might have a chance with her.

“I have one of those, too,” she admits. Then her gaze turns wary. “Guess you got that on the job?”

“Yeah, but not from chasing down a perp or pulling a kid out of a burning building,” I say, tossing the sponge into the bucket. “Tripped over a filing cabinet. First day on the job and they had me bringing coffee for everyone—you know, typical FNG stuff.”

“FNG?”

“Fucking new guy,” I explain, and her mouth quirks. I am so close to making her smile. “Anyway, I got two trays of latte-bullshit-soy and didn’t see the open drawer. Went down like a ton of bricks, but I was determined to save the coffee, so I landed on my knee and then it twisted. Cried like a baby.”

Evangeline smashes her lips together, but an adorable dimple appears on her cheek. Never knew I was a fan of dimples until this very moment.

I lean in to her, but not too close. “Go ahead and laugh. Just promise you’ll still respect me in the morning and keep it to yourself.”

A giggle escapes her. She slaps her hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry.” Her words are muffled behind her palm.

“Don’t be.” Don’t ever be sorry around me, I want to say, but I don’t. “Worst part, there’s photographic evidence on Facebook.”

Slowly, she lets her hand fall away. “It sucks for everyone to know about your most embarrassing moments, huh?”

I shrug. “I don’t know about that. Sometimes, if the right person knows, it can be a good thing.”

She frowns. “How’s that?”

“Lets them know that you’re relatable…that you’re human.”

One of her fingers traces the THIN BLUE LINE bumper sticker on the tailgate. “Do people forget that about you?”

“Sometimes.”

“Do you ever forget that about yourself?” Her ocean-colored eyes are haunted when they gaze up me.

I nod. “A couple of times. Shit. More than a couple. I’m supposed to be impartial when I arrive to a scene. Things aren’t supposed to bother me because I’m a professional—I’ve been trained, you know?”

Rubbing a hand over my neck, I glance around the parking lot. It’s just the two of us. The sun is setting, and the conversation is turning intimate. Ordinarily, this would be when a guy would use it as an opening to ask for more. Ordinarily, I wouldn’t share such things with anyone other than my partner, Dwight, or with Hayden. They know what it’s like to have unreasonable expectations of impassiveness while attempting to correct wrongs and get victims to hospitals. Or worse…

“I need a beer,” I mutter, then turn my attention back to Evangeline. “Want to grab dinner with me?”

“No.” She steps away from me, her body visibly tensing. “Look, I’m not interested in getting involved with anyone.”

What a shocking revelation. “And I’m only interested in dinner. Although, it’s a damn shame because we have a lot in common like bad knees, world peace, and car maintenance.”

Her eyebrows rise and she presses her lips inward, like she’s trying not to laugh. For a moment, I think she’s going to reconsider, but then she walks away, saying nothing.

And I let her go.





Chapter 6


Evangeline


Last night, I was this close to saying yes to dinner with Hunter. I was this close to forgetting everything I know about myself when it comes to men.

I suck at choosing the right one. Worse, I can’t trust myself to choose the right one. So it’s no one for me until…well, I don’t know exactly. What I do know is that I want to get Hunter out of my head. I want to go one day without something triggering memories of Penn—good or bad.

Barking dogs sound in the room and I smile as I lug a container of dog food to the kennel. While they get their morning workout—today it’s yoga—Bob Marley’s “One Love” starts playing and I hum along.

Thank God for the animal shelter. Thank God for Saylor.

As soon as I walk in the door, she greets me warmly. Today she is wearing an ASK ME ABOUT MY T-REX T-shirt and knee-length khaki shorts. She quickly introduces me to Lucius and Leslie. Then she goes over everything. And I mean everything. My head is still spinning from all the information, but luckily, Saylor has a detailed printout ready.