Roam and Sniff walked into the offices trying to be cool but I was right, they couldn’t hide it, I knew they were impressed.
I walked into the office scared to death I’d run into Vance.
Dawn smiled at me sweet-as-pie and informed me Vance was not in the building.
Bitch.
Then Roam and Sniff watched me get my ass kicked by Luke and they’d laughed themselves stupid. I told myself when their eyes weren’t closed with laughter they probably learned something so it was worth it.
After training, I took Roam and Sniff out for burgers then back to the Shelter then I went home to Boo and listened to him complain about my constant absence. Mostly I ignored him.
I took a shower, dressed in my take-on-the night uniform (my new burgundy cords; black belt; black cowboy boots; black, stretchy, tight, long-sleeved tee; and black leather blazer). I waited for Vance to break in, say he wasn’t going to let me go (like Eddie had done to Jet and apparently Hank had done to Roxie and also Lee had done to Indy).
No Vance.
I told myself this was good. I didn’t believe myself and was beginning to think myself was a big, fat moron.
Luke picked me up. We drove around for two hours, doing mostly nothing and saying absolutely nothing (Luke, I found, wasn’t a big conversationalist). We stopped a couple of times so I could talk to some kids and that was it.
* * * * *
At my door I pulled my keys out of my pocket.
Luke pulled my keys out of my hand.
“What the…?” I started but with a Super Dude super-door-unlocking-power he was already pushing open my door. When he was inside, he turned to my alarm and punched in a code.
“How do you know my code?” I asked, coming in behind him.
He threw my keys on my chaise and walked into the house. “Everyone knows your code,” he told me, still walking across the living room.
I stared at his back.
So much for my life going back to normal.
I closed the door, turned on a lamp and followed him. I saw the light go on in the kitchen and heard Boo talking to Luke.
Luke was making himself at home and opening a bottle of Fat Tire beer when I arrived. Boo was asking him who the hell he thought he was and also could he spare a few kitty treats for a poor, abused house cat?
“What are you doing?” I asked as he leaned his h*ps against the counter and took a pull off the beer.
“Havin’ a beer,” he answered when he was done swallowing.
“I can see you’re having a beer. Why are you having a beer?”
“I’m thirsty.”
Oh for goodness sakes.
“Luke. It’s late. I’m tired. I’ve just been bored out of my mind. I don’t even know what patrol is, all I know is, so far, field work sucks.”
“Field work is the business.”
“My business is plastic wrap and canola oil,” I told him.
After I was done with my statement he gave me one of his half-grins and I realized what I said sounded like.
“Go home,” I ordered, deciding to get snippy instead of blush.