I realized I was gaping at him. "Nothing." I shut my mouth.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot that cops are supposed to be stupid."
"I never said you were stupid."
"You don't need a college education to be a cop. You just have to be able to drive. Read. Write. Or not." He was quoting back what I'd said that first night at the bridge.
"Well, excuse me for making a rude comment when you had just arrested me!" As Purcell leaned over the table with the coffeepot, I said, "Waiter, this is not the policeman I ordered. I wanted one with a lot less sauce."
Purcell filled both mugs and turned away. "Your folks don't pay me enough for this."
John watched Purcell retreat to the grill. Then he leaned across the table toward me. He said quietly, "I'm not going to college. All you're doing is making me dissatisfied with my lot in life."
I leaned forward, too, and whispered like this was a big secret. "Your lot in life? A lot is something you draw, like straws. It's chance. You didn't get this life by chance. You chose it on purpose. If you're dissatisfied with it, you can change it."
"I'm not dissatisfied." He leaned back and raised his voice to a normal level, as if he'd flicked a switch. "So, you want to major in business so you can manage a restaurant that isn't your parents' restaurant."
I sighed and let him change the subject. It was a wonder I'd gotten all that out of Dudley Do-Right in the first place. "Yeah, and not your local Applebee's, either. I want to experience exotic locales."
"Exotic locales. Like what?"
"I wouldn't know. I've never been to an exotic locale. I was supposed to go to one for the first time over spring break." Like I said, it was a lot easier for me to take potshots at him when he was in uniform.
Rather than biting, he took a bite of broccoli.
I went on, "From watching the Travel Channel, I'd say the place in the world I'd most want a job is Key West, Florida. It looks so cool. A tropical paradise. The southernmost point in the United States, south of Miami even. And they seceded from the union. In 1982, they declared themselves a separate country from America. Did you know that?"
"Yes."
"It didn't work, though."
"No."
"No one took them seriously." "Imagine."
I was a little irked at him for making fun of my tropical paradise. "Have you been there?" "No."
"Have you ever been anywhere?"
He looked hurt again. "Of course I've been somewhere. Just because I'm a cop—"
"Oh, don't start with that again. I've never been anywhere, so I don't assume. Where did you go?"
"All over Europe. France, Portugal, Spain, Italy, Switzerland, Austria, Germany, Denmark, the Netherlands, Belgium, Luxembourg." He traced his route in the air with his finger. "I rode the Eurail and stayed in hostels."
"God, you're kidding! When?"
"A few months ago. I graduated from the police academy in November, but I couldn't take this job until I turned nineteen in December. I needed something to do for a month. Something other than hang out here."
"I am so jealous," I said, meaning it.
"Well. I saved up my salary for this while I was at the police academy. I figured it might be my one chance to see the world, since I'll be in this town working for the rest of my life."
"Oh." What a buzz-kill. While I was at it, I decided to push the buzz-kill further. It would help me get over my crush on him. "Did Angie go with you?"
"She'd be scared to do something like that. Anyway, she broke up with me right before then."
I couldn't resist. "Small wonder. You're a regular barrel of monkeys."
He put down his fork on his empty plate and gave me the look.
I decided this was a good time to finish my lunch. I popped the last of the corn bread into my mouth and wished desperately that the Meg Special came with more meat so I'd have something else to do. He was still giving me the look. I could feel it singeing my hair.
Finally I gave in and glanced up at him, and almost flinched backward with the force of his angry dark eyes.
"God, Meg!"
"Well, now it's my turn to backtrack," I said. "I didn't mean that like it sounded."
"How else could you have meant it?"
"I didn't know you still had the hots for Angie."
"I don't. But you don't know that. You're really going out of your way. The whole time we've sat here, you've been feeling around for a soft spot to stab me." He closed his eyes, sighed through his nose, opened his eyes. "Do you hale me?"
"I have good reason to hate you, John. You arrested me and ruined my spring break on purpose." I tapped my knife on my plate. "No, I don't hate you. But you're not exactly innocent here. An hour ago at the crime scene, you were giving me all kinds of Sullen Malarkey."
Ever so slowly, the look melted into two friendly, smiling eyes. "Sullen—You were touching the evidence."
"You were mad at me because Will pulled my hair. Come on."
He glanced through the windows at the cop car in the parking lot. "The night is young. Let's get back to work. Truce." He extended his hand across the table for me to shake. "Friends. Partners, for three and a half more nights."
I put my hand close to his, then pulled away. "I can't touch you while you're in uniform."
"For you, I'll make an exception."
What the hell did that mean? While the possibilities circled in my brain, I touched his wrist with my fingers. His hand clasped over my wrist, then slid back to my palm. His thumb grazed the back of my hand. There was no shaking, just tentative touching of hands.
This was like no handshake I'd ever shared. Clumsy, and sexy, and way too friendly for comfort.
Friends my ass.
Chapter 10
“Something bad is going to happen here," Tiffany said.
Something already had. This was my third time riding along on John's graveyard shift, and this was the third wreck at the Birmingham Junction in as many nights.
Tiffany and I sat on the back bumper of the ambulance with the doors open behind us. Normally the too-familiar smell of hospital disinfectant would have driven me away. But I was tired, and there was nowhere else to sit and watch the paramedics treat minor injuries.
At least, I assumed Tiffany watched the paramedics as they eased an old man onto a stretcher and shone a penlight into his eyes. Personally, I watched John. He looked so hot standing in a circle of broken glass, directing traffic around two cars crushed together and two tow trucks easing into place to carry them away. The flow of traffic kept drifting toward John. Once he even had to jump out of the way to avoid getting hit. Probably the drivers were distracted by how hot he was. I wondered if I should tell him this for his own safety. Let Officer Leroy direct traffic.