or even Cannon. There’s no shortage of people I could reach out to at eleven on a Friday night. There’s a good chance not a single person I know is already in bed, but my arms are heavy, much like my eyes. Even my soul seems burdened by the week and sleeping right here won’t be all that bad. Yeah, I know I’ll probably have to mainline Aleve in the morning, and I’ll certainly have to explain to my parents why I’m coming home in my work clothes, but I can deal with all of that in the morn—
I squeal like I’ve just spotted Jason Voorhees with a knife when someone knocks on my window. I cringe away and lift a hand when a megawatt light is shined right in my eyes.
“Open the door,” the criminal snaps after trying the handle and getting nowhere. “Sophia, open the damn door.”
I know I read somewhere that most people are murdered by people they know, and I have a choice to make. Put the car in drive and risk killing someone, or take the chance with a murderer.
My hand reaches for the gearshift, but then the image of that four-year-old little boy from the drunk driving case sneaks back into memory. I crack the window instead.
“May I help you?”
A husky chuckle fills my ears, and I inwardly wonder if Ted Bundy had such a sexy laugh. If he did, then I completely understand why women jumped at the chance to spend a little time with him.
I smack my forehead with my palm, groaning in pain with the contact. What a fucked up thing to joke about even mentally. The man was a sex offender and serial killer. I once again blame television, and more specifically, Zac Efron for making crazy look so damn appealing.
“Are you drunk?”
“Buzzed,” I argue, squinting my eyes but still unable to see well, even though the light is no longer pointed directly at my face. “Too intoxicated to drive.”
My phone rings, but I decline the call from Izzy, too invested in the conversation with this stranger to whine to my best friend about Colton fucking Matthews.
“Should I take you to the station?” he asks as he reaches inside the car to hit the door unlock button.
“Fire station?” I muse. “Firefighters are hot.”
I snort, an unladylike sound, but the alcohol swimming in my bloodstream tells me it was a cute sound.
The guy chuckles as he opens the door. “And here I thought you had a thing for cops.”
I take his hand when he offers it to me, and damn if my eyes are broken because here stands Colton Matthews. Think of the devil and he shall appear.
“I’m not the devil, Sophia.” I roll my lips between my teeth because I had no idea I said that last part out loud. Hold on. How much have I said out loud?
“I’m guessing nearly everything you think you thought since I arrived. And if you’re taking notes, I think Mark Harmon played a much better Ted than Zac Efron.”
“And the sexy laugh part?” I ask, hoping against hope I didn’t say that out loud.
“The part about Bundy having a sexy laugh or the fact that you think I have a sexy laugh?”
Kill me now.
“No can do. I work homicide, and I’m off this weekend, remember? Conflict of interest. Let me grab your things and I can see about getting you home.”
“I can’t go home. I lied to my dad about staying at a friend’s house,” I explain in a rush as Colton leans me against the car so he can turn off my car and grab my personal belongings. “And I can’t leave my car here. It’ll end up on blocks.”
“We’ll drop your keys off at the station so one of the guys can swing by and grab it.”
“You’re impounding my car?” I scoff, the jerk of my head overexaggerated. “For drinking in my car? Seems a little harsh, don’t you think?”
He stands to look at me, his hands full of my belongings. “You are so fucking cute.”
I blow a strand of hair from out of my face, but he doesn’t take the hint to push it behind my ear. I mean I know his hands are full, but he’s missing out on a pretty intense kiss. If he’d only get a couple inches closer, I could seal the damn deal.
“I have no doubt the kiss would be intense, Sophia.” He leans in close enough that I can feel his warm minty breath