“Huh.” Kate said in a tone that translated to that’s a bunch of B.S. “We’ll see about that.”
Mortified to infinity not only at Kate’s misunderstanding but at her own behavior, Gina prayed for what felt like the billionth time this week that the earth’s crust would open up and suck her into its bowels of molten magma.
When that didn’t happen, she followed Honeypot’s example and hustled across the room. She picked up the empty cat carrier and took the long way around the table to avoid Ford as she carried it to where Hudson and Felicia stood with the cat.
It was always a better choice to deal with a demon cat than her own personal horndog demons.
…
Getting stuck with kitchen duty was best avoided at all costs—especially when his mother was looking at him like that. He knew that look on Kate Hartigan’s face. He’d seen it every time he tried to get away with something and she managed to pull the truth out of him with the skill of a senior interrogator. That she was focused on him right now instead of the potato paw prints covering the counter meant there was no escape.
“So,” she started, her voice light, as if she wasn’t about to deliver a punch. “You and Gina, you’re just friends?”
“In a way.” His fingers were tapping against his thumb, and the tips of his ears burned.
“What way is that?” she asked.
“It’s complicated.” Understatement of the year right there.
“Yeah, so much so that he’s not sleeping at his apartment,” Fallon said as she loaded another stack of plates into the dishwasher.
He shot his sister a dirty look. She just grinned back at him, no doubt all too aware of how she was stirring the pot.
The thing was, no matter what his family thought, there was no way he could tell them everything about the situation with Gina—in no small part because he couldn’t understand it himself. Watching her may be his job, but it didn’t feel like one, and that was messing with him in all of the ways he never wanted.
“You’re living with her but she’s not your girlfriend?” his mom asked.
“I’m not living with her.” No, he was spying on her, a fact that was burning a hole in his gut, even if it was better that it was him than Gallo. He hated lying to her.
His mom crossed her arms and leaned back against the kitchen counter. “Where are you sleeping?”
“Her house.” Not that he’d call it sleeping. It was more like staring up at the ceiling and imagining what she was doing alone in her bed while that damn couch spring did its best to cripple him.
“But you’re not living with her,” Fallon said, accepting a tower of bowls from Finian. “It’s just an extended pajama party?”
His brother snort-laughed. “Doubtful there are any PJs involved.”
“Shut up, Finian.”
“Boys,” his mom said in that voice that said cut the shit now. “So, help me understand what’s going on, because she seems lovely and she’s an Ice Knights fan.”
“It’s complicated.” Figuring out world peace would be easier than finding a way out of the mess he’d made for himself. “It’s work.”
“Just work?” she asked.
He nodded as he snagged a bunch of paper towels from the counter and started to sop up the lake of gravy Felicia’s practically feral cat had knocked over. “Yes.”
“So, the fact that the room crackles when you two are in it?” Fallon asked as she closed the fully loaded dishwasher.
He rolled his eyes at his sister. “That’s not scientifically possible.”
“Oh Ford,” his mom said, taking the gravy-soaked paper towels from him and dropping them into the trash can under the sink. “Denial is more than a river in Egypt.”
She wasn’t wrong. Then again, Kate Hartigan rarely was—and if you asked her, she’d say she never was. And he no idea what to do with that, because falling for Gina Luca wasn’t something that fell under any heading in his book of personal rules and regulations.
“Am I interrupting?” Gina asked from the kitchen doorway.
All the frustration and confusion swirling around inside him settled as soon as he looked at her.
“Not at all, honey,” his mom said. “What can I get for you?”
“Actually, I just got a text from Juan that the special order to fix the wonky stair is in, but he can’t pick it up before they close.” She held up her phone. “Do you think we can swing by on the way back home and get it? I told Juan that you said you’d agreed to fix the step so he could tackle something more pressing on his list, like the front porch.”
“Not a problem,” he said, more than ready to get back to the Victorian with its creaks and leaky faucets and—most importantly—her alone.
“Great.” She flashed that smile at him, the one that did funny things to his breathing. “I’ll just go tell your dad goodbye.”
She ducked out and every eyeball in the room except for the ones in his own head zeroed in on him.
“Go home, huh?” Finian asked, picking up on the one thing Ford had been hoping his family would miss. “That’s what you boys in blue call work? Maybe I did pick the wrong line of work.”
After flipping his brother off—behind his mom’s back, of course—Ford issued his goodbyes as Gina came back into the kitchen and did the same with his mom and siblings. It was strange to watch. The other women he’d brought home had all been more than a little freaked out by the crazy that was the Hartigans, but Gina had taken it all in stride. Next time, she’d be yelling at the TV during the hockey game like the rest of them.
Next time, Hartigan?
Where in the hell had that come from? There wouldn’t be a next time. Like he’d told his mom, it was just work. And that’s what he kept telling himself, even as he checked out the way Gina’s ass looked in those jeans as she walked up to the customer service desk at the big box hardware store. He reminded himself again when she did that thing where she twirled her hair around a finger while she waited for him to ring up the order. She did it a lot and probably wasn’t even aware of it. However, since it was his job to watch her, he’d seen her do it repeatedly. It always made him want to reach out and run his fingers through her wavy hair, curl it around his fist, draw her in for a kiss, and then—
“You ready to go?” she asked as she carried a box that had to weigh at least forty pounds.
“Let me,” he said, reaching for the box.
“I can do it.”
“I know you can, but you don’t have to.” He took the box and led the way out to the car parked closer to the dollar theater in the shopping center than the home improvement store. People were lined up at the ticket booth. The marquee read: One night only! Jaws. For a man who couldn’t wait to get back to Gina’s place not that long ago, the idea of spending a few hours in a darkened theater sounded pretty damn good.
“Up for another movie night?” he asked, jerking his chin toward the theater marquee.
“The shark movie?” She held out her hand palm-up in the universal sign for give me your keys. “I’ve never seen it.”
He shifted the box of supplies and pulled the keys out of his front pocket—a more difficult task than usual after watching her walk around in those jeans. “What do you watch at the movies?”
“Mostly comedies, some indie movies.” She took the keys and, as soon as they were in range, clicked the open-trunk button on the key fob.
“Let’s expand your repertoire.”
She gave him a teasing smile. “Big word for a detective.”
“I’m not always going to be a detective,” he said as he loaded the box in his car’s trunk. “I’m going to be the youngest police chief in Waterbury’s history.”
She raised an eyebrow and cocked her head to the side. “Yep. I can see it.”
So could he. He’d been planning his career path out since high school. So far everything had gone according to plan because he’d followed the rules—written and unwritten, like the one that said no fraternizing with anyone with ties to the Esposito crime family. That Gina’s tie was tenuous wouldn’t matter to the review board. It made him look like a guy who blew off the rules. But this didn’t count as fraternizing. He was on the job. It was totally different.
Keep telling yourself that, Hartigan.
Silencing that internal voice, Ford closed his trunk and turned to Gina. “Movie night, my treat?”
“I thought you were going to fix the wonky stair tonight.”
That stair was one of the few things still on his personal-handyman list. For some reason, he’d been dreading the arrival of the supplies Juan had ordered. “Maybe I’m putting that off because I don’t want your handyman list to be finished.”
Shut the fuck up, Hartigan, before you confess to all the dirty things you think when you hear her get into bed at night.
Gina’s cheeks flushed. “I don’t suppose you have any candy we can sneak in with us.”
“That’s against the rules,” he said, knowing she was just giving him shit and playing along. “I’ll get the popcorn, though, extra butter with M&Ms mixed in.”