“Okay, okay. Keep your last name. That’s cool. Veryprogressive.”
The truth was, I was never going to make him leave, and heknew it. Not when his blonde hair was styled like that, like he had just rolledout of bed. Not when his permanent five o’clock shadow clung onto his jawlinefor sweet life. Not when his holey jeans hung low on his hips, and that stripof abdominal skin came into view when he stuffed his hands into his pockets.Not when I missed the way it felt to be so alone with him, so close.
Patrickinney.Peanut butter on the roof of my mouth.
“So, where are we going?” I asked, as I rounded the counterto pull out the register drawer.
“I have a plan.”
“That doesn’t sound promising.”
“Oh, don’t say that. You’re alreadysettin’yourself up for disappointment.”
Ignoring him, I pulled out each stack of bills—counting,recounting.
“Hey, remember that old song I used to sing to you?”
I lost count of the stack in my hand, and I growled undermy breath.
His hands were stuffed into his pockets as he seemed towaltz through the store, that strip of skin taunting me every time his bodyturned to face me, and he hummed a line fromthesong.
“Sweet Thing” by Van Morrison.
“Remember that song,Kins?”
“I’m trying to count over here, Patrick. Christ …”
I did remember the song. It was a few minutes of musicalperfection, and I remembered it some more as I counted a final time to thescrapbook of memories that flashed before my eyes.
I pulled the lock box out from under the counter, stuffingit with the money.
“Hey, do you keep that thing in here?” He folded his armson the counter, watching my face with those hypnotic eyes.
“Huh?”
“Overnight, I mean. When you’re not here.”
“Sometimes. Why?”
“That’s a really stupid thing to do. Didn’t your dad tellyou that you should always take it home with you? What if you were robbed?”
I shot my eyes up from the box as the key slid into thelock. “I guess I’d be calling you, wouldn’t I.” It wasn’t a question, and Ididn’t say it as one. He was one of twelve cops in the entire town. Who elsewould I call?
“Hmm … On second thought, leave it. I’ll give you mynumber, and rob the place myself every night.”
“Thanks for the warning. I’ll bring it home from now on.”
He shrugged with his hands before stuffing them back in hispockets. The counter hid that tight strip of skin, thank God.
“I’ll just findsomethin’ else tosteal.”
I snickered with a dramatic roll of my eyes. “Some cop youturned out to be.”
“RC’s finest.” He grinned. Two dimples.
“Not much to brag about when there’s only a dozen cops inthe whole town.”
“Yeah, but have youseenthe others? I mean, nottryin’ to brag or anything, but …” He gestured to hist-shirt, clinging to the ridges and ripples of muscular definition. “Come on.”
