Run to Ground(85)
“Hey.” Just looking at him made her smile.
“What’d the new fireman want?”
She blinked at the hostility in his tone. “To show Dee the fire trucks.”
“Uh-huh,” he said, not sounding like he believed it. “A good excuse.”
“For what?”
“For introducing himself to you.”
She snorted. “Please. He’s a married guy with kids.”
“Widower.”
“Oh,” she said sympathetically, glancing over to where Steve was helping Dee climb into the cab of one of the trucks. When she looked back at Theo, he was glowering at her.
“Don’t get all mushy just because he’s a single dad.”
For some reason, his crankiness made her smile. “I’m not. I’m mushy because he’s a hot fireman single dad.”
His expression was too much; Jules couldn’t hold in her laughter any longer.
“I’m kidding! Of course I’m kidding.” Theo didn’t look convinced, so she hooked a finger in his belt and gave it a teasing tug. “Hot firemen single dads don’t do it for me.”
“Sure, they don’t.”
“It’s true.” Another tug brought him close enough for her to lower her voice. “I have a thing for hot cops…one hot cop in particular.”
That lightened his cranky frown and made his eyes turn hungry. “Yeah?”
As crazy as it was for her to get involved with a cop, it was so, so true. “Oh yeah.”
* * *
Except for when a certain cop came for his breakfast, Jules’s shift had dragged. Her brain had bounced between elated anticipation and anxiety, depending on if she was thinking about Theo or exploding barns or the whereabouts of Norman Rounds or…well, Theo. As she wiped a recently vacated table, Jules reminded herself that she couldn’t get involved. How involved is involved? she wondered, and then frowned at the convoluted question. What if she just kept it light, just a surface relationship? Then he’d never need to know about her past, because he wouldn’t care enough to ask.
Jules snorted. Of course he’d ask. He’d been asking since the very first time she’d met him, and he’d known nothing about her. If she wanted to be with someone who wouldn’t be curious about her reasons for moving to Monroe, she shouldn’t have picked Theo. Although she really hadn’t picked Theo. He’d just sort of slipped into her life and saved her life a few times and taken over every thought in her head—well, except for the thoughts required to worry about the kids and getting caught and everything that needed to be done to the house and—
“Jules, I think it’s clean.”
Starting, she looked up to see Megan smirking at her. “You’ve been wiping down that table for the past five minutes. It’s clean. I promise. It was clean four minutes and fifty-five seconds ago. I do appreciate your dedication, though.”
It felt like Megan could see her thoughts, like all the obsessing she’d been doing was scribbled across her forehead. “Sorry.”
Megan waved off her apology. “Did you want to take off? I can take your tables.”
Frowning at her boss, Jules said, “Are you sure? It’s pretty busy.”
“Yes, I’m sure.” Megan smiled, a big, crocodile-esque grin that made Jules shift back a step.
“Why are you smiling at me like that?” she asked.
The freaky grin sagged around the edges. “Like what? I’m just being friendly.”
“No, you’re being scary,” Jules said. “Why?”
To Jules’s relief, the last traces of Megan’s fake grin fell away, and she returned to her usual grumpy expression. “Fine. Can you open for me tomorrow?”
“Was that your attempt to butter me up?” Jules laughed. “Next time, just ask. You don’t have to scare me into submission first. And yes, I can open tomorrow.” She’d opened the diner only once, but Megan had a detailed check sheet to follow, so it wasn’t hard.
“Great. Thank you.” Megan scowled. “But also, screw you for saying my smile is scary. It’s cute and endearing.”
Jules coughed. “Scary.”
“Whatever.” Megan turned and headed toward one of the booths where someone was waving at her. “Now go, before I forget my gratitude and retract my offer.”
Jules opened her mouth, about to tell Megan that she could stay and finish her tables. It had occurred to her that all she had at home was a quiet house that needed a trillion things done to it and her crazy, rampaging worries to stew over. After considering it, she’d rather continue her slow-as-molasses, endless shift at the diner.