Searching for Always(26)

“I disagree. The last man I dated focused on his spiritual work and craved to be a better man. He was sweet, giving, a great listener and supporter. He transcended the physical.”

Stone groaned. “If he’s so great, how come you’re still not together?”

“It’s none of your business,” she snapped. “This is a stupid conversation anyway. I bet you think jumping into bed with anyone just to scratch an itch is acceptable.”

“It’s definitely fun. When was the last time you had real fun?”

“I have fun all the time. I go out with my friends on the weekends. I volunteer with charities I’m passionate about. I practice yoga, and take care of dogs, and spend time with my grandfather.”

He laughed. “Yeah, I bet Grandpa is a barrel of laughs.”

“He’s more fun than you’d ever be. At least I have a ton of outside interests. What do you do when you’re not buried in your all-important job?”

“Tons.”

Her mocking laugh scraped his nerve endings. “Hmm, let me take a wild stab at this. You drink beer with some cops. Shoot a bit of pool. Maybe lift a few weights at the gym. But basically you’re a workaholic who spends most of his time alone. Even your dating probably is wrapped up in your inane ideas about women and sex. Keep it to the physical so no one figures out you’re not cool. God forbid a woman messes with your career, or Friday nights at the pool hall. You, Stone Petty, are just as big a hypocrite.”

She lapsed into a simmering silence, deliberately tuning him out. He opened his mouth to tell her a few hard truths, realized he didn’t have any, and shut up. Sure, he loved his job. That’s why he worked all the time, but he had plenty of outside interests. A lot. She had no idea what she was talking about, and he wasn’t about to waste his precious time arguing with her. This past relationship of hers had probably blown up in her face, and she was still sore. He’d bet his balls the guy had done something scummy. Maybe cheating. His cop instincts flared to life from her guarded expression and what he suspected was the real reason they’d broken up.

Transcendent, his ass.

He made a right onto Bluebird and scanned the area. Not much going on. The dead-end street held neglect and the stink of something illegal. Drugs? Teens? Or just people who’d fallen on hard times?

“The house at the end of the street. There.” She pointed toward a run-down ranch in puke brown. Weeds choked the yard, and empty bottles littered the ground. There was a large area in the back, behind the rusty metal gate, but he couldn’t see much from the curb. Stone parked, cut the engine, and studied the property. Lots of garbage cans. A charred fire pit. Seemed to be deserted, but he bet the place came alive at night. He may need to do a drive-by with Devine and make sure there wasn’t some kind of weed fest going on in his town.

“Let’s go.” She reached for the handle. His hand shot across the seat and circled her wrist before she could escape.

The feel of her soft skin sliding under his made him jerk, but he kept his grip firm. Holy hell, what was it about touching this woman that put all his senses on high alert? “Where do you think you’re going?”

That cute little frown marred her brow. “To check it out, of course. That’s why we’re here. Got your phone?”

He shook his head. “This isn’t some vice squad drama. We’re not allowed to go traipsing around on private property and snap pictures. Let’s walk to the end of the street and get close. Maybe we can see the backyard better.”

“Fine. Great plan, Officer.” This time he let her go, but he cursed under his breath and jumped out of the car. Her insulting tone made him want to prove what he could do to her as an officer of the law. Some good things. Some bad.

Very, very bad.

He made sure to look casual while he took in his surroundings. Yeah, they were definitely doing something back there. The yard contained a pile of rusty car parts, large paint-type cans scattered around, and a beaten-up doghouse. The wood was rotted, and the roof sagged. He stayed back, taking note of the tin bowl, a few leashes, and mud pits. A nasty smell radiated from the yard, like a rodent trapped under the porch. Ugh. Not a good situation. Bet there were rats running around.

Stone shuddered more from the thought of encountering a dog than a rat. Rodents he could handle—he’d seen and lived with his fair share. Dogs? Not so much.

“See, there’s the doghouse. There are dogs. Who knows how many? We have to get closer.”

Again she went to march onto the side lawn in plain view of any asshole checking them out. If there were drugs or dog fighting involved, things got complicated. Best to go back with Devine and poke around at night.