Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 67665 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67665 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
“First of all,” Dillon began his rebuttal, “every couple has conflict. You can’t expect smooth sailing, or you’ll just get off at the first storm you encounter.”
“Do you fight with your wife?” I asked.
Dillon laughed. “Not now, but in the beginning all we did was fight. If you can get past that and into the ‘happily ever after,’ you’ll realize that being in love is better than having a friend or a good lay.”
“Says the man with two kids,” Ryan grumbled.
“Yes, I do have two kids,” Dillon countered, “and I couldn’t be happier.” He leaned over to sidebar with me. “Do it—fall in love. You won’t regret it.”
“Don’t do it. You’ll get hurt,” Ryan advised.
“Thank you both.” I nodded to each of my friends. “I just feel like maybe I shouldn’t get involved with Lindsey since we’re living together.” I took a swallow of my beer. “That doesn’t change how I feel about her, though.” Both Dillon and Ryan laughed, each one feeling like I was on his side of the fence.
“How do you like the job?” Dillon asked.
I shrugged. “It’s okay.”
“A lot of responsibility being a detective?” Dillon guessed.
“No more than usual,” I said.
“That’s something you want to think about.” Ryan accepted his next drink from the waitress. “You can’t get too deep into a relationship with our job. Too dangerous.”
I couldn’t repress a chuckle. Dillon looked at me sideways, his own face lighting up. Singer’s Ridge was nothing next to Nashville, and Dillon knew it. Even though he wasn’t a police officer any longer, he could still take the temperature of a town. Our emergency case with the four fatalities and the money-laundering business was just a regular Tuesday in the big city.
“I work a lot,” I admitted, “but nothing like I used to. There were times in Nashville that I got off at four or five in the morning after spending the entire night arresting, booking, and filling out paperwork. We would have five homicides, a drug sting, two dozen prostitution busts, and a handful of drunk and disorderlies in the first two hours.”
Ryan raised his eyebrows but said nothing.
“Hey, you wanna bring the ladies out on Friday?” Dillon asked suddenly.
I liked the idea but wasn’t sure if Lindsey and I were ready to move into official “dating.”
“I think Lindsey and Macy are friends,” Dillon said. “Ava too.” He tossed the invitation to Ryan.
“No, thanks,” Ryan said darkly. “It’s over between me and Ava.”
“Are you sure?” I asked.
“Pretty sure,” he said.
“Because something tells me you still have feelings for her.” I grinned.
“Why would you say that?” Ryan demanded.
“When we were interrogating the girls, Ryan made me take Ava so he wouldn’t have to talk to her,” I told Dillon.
“Yep.” Dillon nodded sagely.
“What does that mean?” Ryan asked.
“It means,” Dillon explained, “that if you didn’t have feelings for her, it wouldn’t have been awkward to talk to her.”
“No,” Ryan said.
Dillon and I nodded.
“No,” he said again. “It’s just too soon.”
Dillon shrugged. “What about you?” he asked me.
I took a deep breath and dove right in. “Okay. I’ll ask Lindsey when I get home.”
“Alright.” Dillon held out his beer for a toast.
I clinked bottles, finishing mine off in a single gulp.
Ryan narrowed his eyes, disapproving but not enough to say anything. I kept myself at one beer, refusing the waitress when she came back to ask if we needed anything. Dillon only had one as well, while Ryan finished off the night with three. We split in the parking lot, each ready to go home to his own life.
I had Lindsey waiting for me. Dillon had Macy. Ryan had no one but might have been planning some other fun that night, and that wasn’t any of my business. No, I corrected myself, Lindsey wasn’t waiting for me. If she was home, she was doing her own thing. She might not even be there. This whole “are we friends, roommates, or lovers” question was really getting confusing. Maybe the double date would help move things along to a place where there were fewer questions and more answers.
I drove home to find Lindsey’s car in the driveway. Stepping out of the truck, I was once again struck by the noise of the forest. Unlike the city with its car alarms and drunken shouting, the wildlife on the mountain had its own orchestra. The crickets chirped, and the wind rustled the leaves. Somewhere beyond the porch light, something moved through the underbrush. I turned away from the forest and into the cabin, setting my keys down in a bowl next to the door.
Lindsey was sitting on the couch, reading. She looked up when she heard me and smiled. “I made soup. It’s in a pot on the stove.”
My stomach growled, and I realized that I had neglected dinner while at the bar. I grabbed a bowl from the cabinet and poured myself some soup. It was almost a stew, with carrots, onions, potatoes, and beef. I poked at it with a spoon before digging in, standing at the island so I could look across at Lindsey.