little more truth, but she doesn’t need to know that the ones like us that grow up in homes where we were loved tend to have the most compassion for those who didn’t. It’s the ones who pulled themselves out of shitty situations, most often, that have less than stellar attitudes about those still stuck by their circumstances. Maybe it’s because they made it out, they stop seeing excuses the same way. I don’t know what it is, but everyone deals with police work differently.
“I’m just glad it’s the weeks’ end.”
Glassy eyes blink up at me, and my mouth opens before I think. I don’t want her going home for two days with all of this heaviness weighing on her. She’ll soon find out that each day in this job, a little piece of you is plucked away and never returned. She’s too young to be jaded by the evils in the world.
“What are you doing this evening?”
“Besides going home and hugging my mom and dad?” She chuckles, the sound sullen and humorless.
“What about dinner?”
“Mom usually leaves me a plate in the oven.”
I smile at her confession even though her cheeks pink.
“I know how to cook, and I was on my own for almost four years at college. I mean, I was in a dorm, but I’m not a spoiled brat who can’t take care of myself.”
I press a hand to her arm to get her attention and stop her rambling, but pull it away before she can read it as anything else. God, I want my hands all over her. I clear my throat.
“My mom still brings over meals, and I’m thirty-five. I’m pretty sure I have enough casseroles in my freezer to survive a zombie apocalypse.”
She grins at me, but the smile I saw earlier today in my office is still absent.
“Will you join me?”
“For what?”
I chuckle, shaking my head and looking out my window after realizing the way I asked about dinner wasn’t taken as the invitation it was meant to be.
“Will you have dinner with me?”
Her eyes widen, and more of her beautiful smile takes over her face.
“I mean as a reward for going back into the office and helping me wrap a few things up?”
“Of course there’s a catch.”
“I’m not on call this weekend, but I’ll end up at my desk tomorrow morning if I leave stuff undone.”
“Really?” She licks her lips, and I’m snared by the action. “Last week I helped close out a case that was lost under a pile for the last four months.”
“See.” I hold my hands up in offering. “I need your help.”
“I’ll warn you, I eat a lot.”
I laugh again. “I know. I’ve seen your lunch orders. Come on.”
I slide out of the car, making sure to grab my gear since I’ll leave the vehicle here for the weekend, and head inside before she has the chance to change her mind.
***
“Please don’t tell me you’re counting calories.”
I glare at Sophia as she looks down at her plate of pasta, her mouth working back and forth.
“What? No.” She leans across the table, lowering her head as if she’s going to tell me a secret. “But would it be rude to ask for more cheese?”
I laugh, but then she winks at me and the sound dies on my lips.
I know she isn’t flirting. She’s been nothing but professional. The last couple of weeks have been easygoing when I would’ve put money on the chance of it being difficult to be around her.
I mean, some days it isn’t easy, and those are the days she wears her hair down around her shoulders, and I spend the entire shift trying to keep from reaching out to touch her brown locks.
Today is one of those days. Her grin is enticing, but add in the soft waves flowing around her face and shoulders, and I can now see that inviting her out while not working in an official capacity may have been a mistake.
“Do you really want more cheese?” I ask when my brain decides to finally come back online.
“Of course not.” Those are her words, but her eyes dart around the restaurant.
We eat in silence for the next couple of minutes, and her cheeks flame red when the waiter stops by to check on us and I ask for more cheese. She must not be too upset because her eyes go wide and it takes forever to tell him that’s enough when the grater starts working.