Cuff Me(26)

Jill linked her arm in Vin’s, oblivious to his turmoil.

He wanted to jerk his arm away. Wanted to bark at her to, for once, give him some Goddamn distance.

Except he wasn’t sure he wanted distance. He wanted…

“How’s the new guy fitting in?” he asked.

“Hmm,” she said, seeming to consider the question.

She took a sip of her drink, which true to Anth’s prediction, had some sort of floating flower in it.

“He’s doing great. Everyone loves him,” she said, taking another sip of drink.

A quick scan of the situation verified this. The entire Moretti clan looked ready to fall at Tom’s feet.

“And this is a problem, because…?”

“It’s not!” she said brightly. “It’s great.”

He gave her a look. “Jill.”

She bit her lip. “Okay, fine, but if you repeat what I’m about to say, I will kill you.”

“Spit it out.”

“Do you think there’s such a thing as too nice?” she asked. “Too friendly?”

“Yes,” he deadpanned. “I know there is. I’ve dealt with it every day for the past six years.”

She pinched his arm. “I’m serious.”

“So am I. Henley, you’re like the human equivalent of a rainbow.”

There was a burst of laughter, and she and Vin shifted to see the crowd around Tom laughing as he told a story.

Jill took another sip of her drink, and everything clicked into place.

“Are you jealous, Detective?”

She glared at him. “Jealous of what?”

He nudged her shoulder. “That your boy over there is the center of attention. That for once, you’re not the funniest, brightest person in the room?”

Her face fell a little, and he instantly regretted his teasing. He itched to tell her that she was always the brightest person in the room. That she was his light.

“I just don’t want Tom to feel like he has to try so hard to make people like him,” she said.

Tom. Just hearing another man’s name on her lips made him irritable.

“What do you think of him?” she asked, gesturing with her glass.

Oh God. Don’t ask me that.

“Haven’t talked to him. Don’t want to make snap decisions,” he said.

Jill snorted. “You make snap decisions all the time. Come on, use your Spidey sense.”

Vincent forced himself to look at her fiancé again. He looked like Tom Fucking Brady. Even the first name was the same.

And yet… good-looking as the man was, something was off. Not off in that there was something wrong with the guy, but the man hadn’t once looked at Jill.

He was too busy working the room. Not even in a smarmy way, just the way of someone who made it his business to be liked.

Much like Jill.

He wouldn’t admit it to her when her mood was fluttering on the edge of cranky, but she might be onto something with the two of them being too much alike.

Almost as though their matching, ready smiles would cancel each other out.

“Does he play polo?” Vin asked. “He totally looks like the type of dude that would play polo.”

She gave him a look. “Stop. Just because he doesn’t wear a leather jacket doesn’t mean he’s preppy.”

“How much white does he have in his closet? Tell me honestly,” Vin said, glancing down at her.

She started to giggle, then slapped a hand over her mouth, as though catching herself. “Stop. Come on. I’ll introduce you.”

Please don’t.

But of course, he followed her. It had to happen sometime. Might as well get it over with.

And as it turned out, Tom had all sorts of pretty manners to go with the pretty face.

Vincent hated him. Mainly because there was nothing to hate.

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” Tom said sincerely, reaching out to shake Vincent’s hand.

Ignoring the hand was tempting—very—but even he had his limits of rudeness, and endured a firm handshake.

“Jill’s said plenty about you,” Tom said, taking a drink of the flowery cocktail and not wincing in the least.

“Nothing good,” Jill chimed in cheerfully.

“I knew within minutes of talking to Jill about her job that you were her other half,” Tom said.

Vincent glanced at Jill then, curious how she would respond to that assessment, and found her watching him.

She looked away the second their eyes met, something fleeting and unidentifiable flashing across her face.

Vincent was saved from having to rummage up some requisite response when Elena appeared.

“You’re late.” She shoved a glass of something sugary and pink into his hand as she lifted to her toes and kissed his cheek.

Elena was dressed to kill as always in a form-fitting gray dress and high heels that, despite being light gray suede, were inexplicably clean.

The dirt was probably scared of her.

He glanced at his beverage. “Got any beer?”

His sister tapped a manicured fingernail against his hand. “You didn’t even try it.”

“Because there’s a flower floating in it.”

“It’s an edible flower. Did you know that some of the fancy grocery stores carry those in their herb section? It’s just this cute little box called edible flowers.”