Cuff Me(81)

Jill gave a rueful smile as she pushed herself off the floor where she’d been sitting cross-legged in a pile of paper and went to the door.

Unsurprisingly, it was Elena.

Her best friend was dressed in a knee-length sweater dress and killer boots, and was holding a grocery bag.

Elena held out the bag. “I would have brought chicken soup, but I hazarded a guess that chips and wine were a better remedy.”

For a moment, Jill had an odd flashback to that first night back from Florida when Vin had held out that smashed doughnut for her.

She pushed the thought aside.

Jill smiled as she took the bag. “You’d be right. I’m not sick so much as—”

“Being a bit of an idiot?” Elena asked, pushing her sunglasses up on top of her head.

Jill set the grocery bag on the floor with a thump and threw her arms around Elena and squeezed. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for avoiding you.”

Elena wasted no time hugging Jill back. They were both huggers by nature. Always had been. “I don’t blame you. Not one little bit. Vin can be an utter monster—”

Jill pulled back. “Wait. For God’s sake, let’s do this while sitting down, preferably with junk food and an adult beverage.”

Elena’s eyebrow lifted. “It’s three o’clock on a weekday.”

Jill shrugged. “That’s cool. We can talk about the dirty handcuff sex I had with your brother sober if you want…”

Elena groaned and grabbed at the grocery bag as she headed toward the kitchen. “On second thought, do you have any really long straws? I’m thinking of just going straight from the bottle.”

Five minutes later, they were seated on Jill’s couch, armed with a glass of pinot grigio and a bowl of salt and vinegar chips.

“You making a creepy scrapbook?” Elena asked, gesturing toward the papers strewn about their feet.

Jill pulled her knees toward her chest. “I’ve been trying to distract myself.”

Elena nodded. “I suppose that’s one of the perks of your job. Homicide’s about as good of a distraction from relationship issues as any.”

“Right?” Jill said. “Although it all feels like a waste of time. Vincent and I had weeks to turn up a suspect, and nothing stuck. Nothing clicked. I’m missing something, but I just don’t know where to look.”

Elena gave her a steady look. “Perhaps the problem is all the ‘I’ in that past statement. Isn’t the entire point of having a partner, to well, partner on these things?”

Jill dug her hand into the chip bowl and stayed silent.

Elena put an elbow on the back of the couch and rested her face on her hand. “Talk.”

“Nothing to talk about,” Jill said around a mouthful of chips.

“But you guys did cross the sexy-line, did you not?”

Jill gave her a look. “It’s your brother. You really want to be having this conversation?”

“I’ll confess it’s not my favorite. But when it comes to choosing between you and Vin… well let’s just say he’s not even my favorite brother.”

Elena’s voice was teasing—Jill knew her friend was only referring to the fact that Elena and Vincent were prone to squabbling. But the offhand comment squeezed her heart a little bit.

It made her wonder if Vincent wasn’t always slightly aware of his status as the family loner. If it wasn’t part of the reason he held himself back from everyone.

The reason he held himself back from her.

He wasn’t accustomed to being anyone’s favorite. Wasn’t used to being first in anyone’s life.

“We had a thing,” Jill said quietly.

“A thing.”

“Yeah, like a… fling.”

“A fling is something you have with a guy you meet in a bar, not the guy who’s been your other half for years.”

“Well, it was. Um. It was…” Jill took a sip of wine.

“C’mon. Spill. You guys sexed it up, and then…?”

“And then…” Jill waved her hand. “Nothing.”

“It was bad?”

“No! It was—” Jill paused, remembering she was talking to Vincent’s sister. “The physical part wasn’t the problem.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah,” Jill said, relieved that Elena got it. “Ah.”

“Let me guess, the dude won’t open up. Won’t talk to you. Won’t let you in?”

“All of the above.”

Elena took a sip of wine. “But you love him anyway.”

Love.

A tricky word, that.

Jill had never been one of those people who’d had trouble saying it. She’d always given and received love fairly easily.

But loving Vincent…

Loving Vincent was scary. Risky.

Horribly, alarmingly big.

Loving Vin wasn’t easy. He was stubborn and prickly and difficult.

And loving him was also… inevitable.

As though it were inconceivable for anyone but him to hold her heart.

“Crap,” she muttered.

Elena made a sympathetic noise and reached to tug a piece of Jill’s hair.

“What happened?”