Custom Love by Chantal Fernando
Chapter Ten
Decker stops by my office the next morning and takes a seat while I’m on the phone with a client. When I end the call, he flashes me a smile. “I brought you coffee.”
“Is this going to be a regular thing? A girl can get used to this.”
He smirks. “So I haven’t been able to let this Taylor thing go.”
I arch my brow. “What have you found?”
“Not much, but I spoke to her AA sponsor, who claimed she had been sober and on track for over a year now, but the toxicology report proved otherwise. I don’t know, I just don’t think it was an accident.”
“You think it was murder.”
He shrugs. “I don’t know yet. I just have a feeling that there is more to it. Someone could have easily pushed her down the stairs.”
“Let me know what you find, or if you need any help,” I say.
He grins, flashing his teeth. “Oh, I will. That’s why I’m here. If I need you to work on this case with me, are you down? Off the books.”
I pause with my fingers around the takeaway cup. “Depends...how much are you going to pay me?”
“Remember all the favors I’ve done for you?”
“Ha. Felix was the one to do me favors.”
“Maybe, but you might need favors from me and I’ll owe you.”
My door opens, and I see the last person I’d expect—Trade.
He steps inside, in his work jeans and T-shirt, and eyes me and Decker. “Sorry. Am I interrupting something here?”
I look over at Decker and realize how we look, leaning over my desk toward each other like we’re having an intimate conversation while having coffee. Not that I think that Trade cares, but I don’t want him to get that impression. Which is actually quite telling, and something I’m not going to dwell on right now.
“Nope, come on in,” I say, and give Decker a look that tells him to please leave, my eyes going wide and my head tilting slightly to the door.
Decker gets the hint, as he smiles but doesn’t leave. “You going to introduce me to your friend?”
He’s such a pain in my ass. I clear my throat. “Trade, this is Detective Decker. Decker, this is Trade. He is my best friend’s boss.”
I should introduce Trade as my friend, but is he my friend anymore? Shit, I’m not sure. For all I know he’s here to yell at me and tell me to stay away from him. I hate not knowing where I stand with someone. It’s not fun.
Decker stands up and the two of them eye each other. Trade is taller than Decker, but Decker is broader. Still, they are both good looking, and it kind of seems like a photo shoot for a romance novel cover or a magazine. The hot bad boy and the hot cop—I can’t make this shit up. I want to low-key take a photo to show Bronte. I wonder if they would notice with all this posturing going on.
Trade is definitely the one who stands out to me, though. There’s just something about him. No man could compare to him, at least not for me. Those dark eyes, that long hair, with the stubble on his cheeks.
And his smile? Don’t get me started on that.
I secretly pull out my phone and take a quick snap. They both instantly look at me, hearing that damn noise, so I just shrug. “That’s my text tone,” I lie.
I send the message to Bronte with the caption Didn’t see this one coming.
She replies straight away. Are they in your office??
Yep.
The men shake hands, exchange pleasantries, and then Decker finally puts me out of my misery by leaving. “I’ll call you,” he says with a wink before he closes the door. “Or maybe I’ll drop in again tomorrow morning. With coffee.”
Shit stirrer.
“Have a seat,” I say to Trade, gesturing to the chair Decker just vacated. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, I just thought we could have a chat. I don’t like where we left things the other night,” he admits, bringing his eyes from the door back to me, running his hand over his jawline. “You surprised me, you know? I never thought that was what you were going to say.”
“What did you think I was going to say?”
He clears his throat and looks away. “Never mind, it doesn’t matter now. I’m sorry for telling you to leave my house like that. That’s not how I usually handle things, but I didn’t want to say something I was going to regret, and I just needed to think. I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that, and I apologize.”
“Would you rather I not have said anything at all?” It’s something I’ve been wondering. I’ve always operated on an “honesty is the best policy” motto, but maybe in this case I shouldn’t have said anything.
Trade takes a few seconds to think about my question. “No, I’m glad you did. It just caught me off guard,” he admits, sighing. “But I thought about it, and you know what? This is your job, and I’m not going to get in the way of that.”
“I never wanted to hurt you, Trade,” I reply, my voice smaller than I’d like. “And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about it earlier, as soon as I took the case on. I should have been more up-front and honest about it all, so I apologize for that. And I’m sorry that any of this happened in the first place.”
All of it. Him losing the love of his life, the mother of his children, the family he built from love and loyalty. Bringing the case up again, along with the pain, and not telling him about it straight up...
I’m sorry for it all.
I also feel sorry for myself for being drawn to him, because what a fucking mess. There couldn’t be a more emotionally unavailable man.
“I appreciate your apology,” he says, brow furrowing. “And I hope that you accept mine. It was just hard for me because I thought this whole thing was done and dusted, and I was trying to accept it and move on.”
“I know, and of course I accept yours.”
“So you’re not working on this case anymore?”
“No. I told Damon’s mother that there was nothing to look into and I was done.”
“Okay. So you didn’t find anything then, right?” He tilts his head in interest.
“Do you really want to talk about this?” I ask, not knowing how forthcoming I should be.
He nods.
“No, I didn’t find anything new. But I didn’t really expect to. What drew me to the case was the lack of evidence. I’m not saying he didn’t do it, but it shocked me he was convicted on so little evidence. Everything says that he may have done it—him being at the salon when Ariel was, her being found by his house—but there is no concrete evidence. I just wanted to be sure it really was him. But I found nothing new that points to him not doing it.”
Trade continues to nod like he’s agreeing with everything I’m saying, but I can tell that he’s zoned out a bit. After a while he looks up.
“So we’re okay, right?” he asks, brown eyes unflinching.
“Yeah.” I nod. “I’d like that.”
“What’s with the cop?” he then questions, surprising me.
“He’s a friend. I’ve know his partner, Felix, since high school, so normally Felix helps with things I need. But over the years Decker has helped when Felix couldn’t,” I explain, shifting on my chair.
“Just a friend?” he asks, eyes narrowing ever so slightly.
“Yeah,” I reply, dragging out the word. “Just a friend. Why?”
He nods and stands. “Just asking.”
He now avoids my gaze, and I find myself hiding my smile. There’s only one reason he’d be asking that, so maybe my growing attraction is mutual. Or maybe I’m being hopeful.
“Well, I like that you’re asking,” I reply boldly. “And thank you for dropping in today. I felt terrible after I left your house, and about how we left things. I didn’t know if you were ever going to speak to me again.”
“I didn’t know either,” he replies, sighing. “Anyway, I better get back to work.”
I stand up and walk over to give him a hug. His strong arms come around me and hold me tightly. This is the first time I’ve been this close to him, and I find myself wondering why I haven’t done this sooner. He smells so damn good, and he feels even better.
My eyes close of their own accord, and I let out a little sigh of contentment. Trade presses his lips against my hair, and we just stay like that for a few moments.
I lift my head up and look at him—my head comes right under his chin—then let go of his body and step away, clearing my throat.
My voice is husky when I speak again. “I guess we both better get back to work. Thanks again for coming to see me.”
“Talk soon,” he replies, and then disappears.
As I stare at the closing door, I acknowledge one thing.
I’m in trouble.