Blind Date(21)

"Do you want a drink, or, ah, something?"

That sounded convincing.

His eyes flick to me, and he wipes his hands dry on his pants. "Coffee would be good."

Dammit.

He accepted.

Now what do I do?

My heart races for a minute, and I just stare at him. He stares right back. Right. Coffee. Simple enough. I shake myself from my stupor and head towards the counter, avoiding his eyes as I turn the coffee maker on. I grab one cup, because there is no way I'm drinking coffee before bed, and start preparing it for him.

"Doesn't coffee keep you awake?" I ask, looking over my shoulder at him.

He's on the other side of the counter now, leaning a hip against it.

"I work most of the night, so no."

Right, he's a detective. I can only imagine how much time he spends poring over cases, trying to figure things out. It would be a job where you couldn't turn your mind off all that easily. The things he would see in his line of work would keep most people awake for the rest of their lives, I imagine.

"Understandable," I murmur. "Anything interesting you're working on right now?"

"I'm working on a few homicide cases."

I blink and turn, while the coffee brews. "You are?"

He nods.

Wow. That's impressive, and kind of cool.

"Did you hear about the recent killing? That killer?"

He nods. "Yeah, it isn't my case so I haven't looked much into it, but I have seen a few like that pass through over the years."

"Are they any closer to finding the person responsible?"

I'm so curious, even though he probably can't answer me.

He shakes his head. "Serial killers are always tricky, a lot of the time we just don't get them. They're usually calculated and smart as hell, so we basically have to wait for them to screw up and if they don't, then we're left in a difficult position. They're not reckless like most killers, they're smarter than most of the human population, which makes it tricky." 

I shiver. "That's a scary thought  …  you know  …  that you're waiting on someone to screw up just to catch them."

I finish up his coffee and slide it to him, "Cream in the fridge, sugar in the pantry."

I take a seat at the counter and watch him move around, taking the coffee and helping himself to my fridge. He mixes three spoons of sugar into the cup, and nothing else. Black and sweet. Interesting. When he takes a seat again, he tells me, "Serial killers tend to be extremely clever, and they do a lot of research before targeting anyone. It's why they're so hard to catch. I've only ever heard of a few that aren't up there with the rest-most of them are near-genius level."

"Hmmmm," I ponder thoughtfully. "Yeah, I can see what you're saying. I've seen all those serial killer movies."

He looks to the ceiling. I am starting to notice he seems to do that a lot when he's frustrated. How my comment frustrates him, however, I don't know. "The movies are fiction … "

I snort. "I'm fully aware of that, but they do hold some truth."

Don't they?

His eyes swing to me and I swear-I swear-he rolls them a little.

"You're not a very easy person to communicate with, are you, Detective?"

He studies me. "I could say the same about you, Hartley."

I blink. "How do you know my name?"

He keeps staring at me. "I know all I need to know about you. I did a background check when you moved in."

My mouth drops open. "That's an invasion of privacy!"

He shrugs. "I didn't want to be living next door to someone who's a criminal."

I'm shaking my head, even as the words keep pouring out of my mouth. "You, buddy, need to learn some serious people skills. It is not okay to do background checks on people. That's my business."

He gives me a look that says I beg to differ. "I'm a cop. It's mine, too."

God.

I want to punch him right between the eyes.

I don't know why he frustrates me so much, but gosh, he does. He really really does.

"It's not normal for neighbors to check on other neighbor's private business," I point out. "Not that you seem to be overly concerned about being neighborly."

He snorts, taking a big gulp of coffee. "I don't do neighborly things."

"You fixed my tap," I add with a smile. "That's neighborly."

He gives me a look that tells me he really had no choice in the matter. "Because you came to my house, threw a tantrum, and I had no choice."

My mouth drops open. "I did not throw a tantrum."

His brows go up, as if to say Oh really?

I grind my teeth. "Well, considering you've stalked me, I figure it's only fair that I'm allowed one act of kindness from you."

"I didn't stalk you," he says, standing and putting his cup in the sink. "I did a background check."