Twenty-One #2
“Jory,” Dylan said, “don’t be an idiot.” She looked over at Sam. “We would appreciate a ride, Detective, thank you so much.”
“Sure,” he replied softly, walking over to us. “Maybe you should lean on—”
“It’s fine,” I blurted out, stepping past him.
“Jory,” Dylan gasped, reaching for me.
“I’m fine,” I repeated, gritting my teeth as I strode down the pier. I was nothing if not stubborn.
Dylan ended up holding my hand as we followed Sam back to where Maggie was leaning against a railing, watching Dominic and Lily play bumper cars.
“There you are.” She smiled at him, her eyes soft. “Where did you go?”
“I saw some friends,” he muttered, tipping his head toward Dylan and me. “They need a ride. Are you guys ready to go?”
“Oh yes.” She smiled at him. “I’ve been ready for an hour. I’ve gotta work tomorrow.”
“Okay. Let’s go, then.”
“Are you going to stay at my place?”
My stomach lurched.
“Not tonight,” he said quickly.
“Oh.” She was clearly disappointed. I could see it on her face and hear it in her voice. “Okay.”
“Can I get a witness?” Dominic shouted out as he stalked over to us.
I smiled at him, and when he reached me, his hand came down heavy on my shoulder.
“I am actually very happy to see you.” He squeezed tight. “I swear to God, kid, you’re a lucky sonofabitch.”
“Jory?” Dylan looked up into my face.
“I’ll tell ya later,” I assured her. “Dominic Kairov, this is Dylan Greer, my partner at Barrington.”
He reached for her hand, and they shook as a striking, statuesque blonde woman stepped up behind him. She was Lily Beck, and he introduced both Dylan and me to her. It was only then that Maggie complained she hadn’t been introduced to either one of us.
“Maggie Dixon.” She smiled at me as she took my hand. “You’re the Jory?”
“Just Jory,” I told her.
“No, you’re the one that stayed with Sam for a while, right? The teacups are yours.”
“No, those are his.”
“He said they were yours.”
I shook my head.
“Well, whoever they belong to, he won’t let me touch them.”
“You should just give them away.”
She chuckled. “So not happening.”
“Let’s go,” Sam growled, and everyone moved at the same time.
At the cars, Dominic volunteered to take Dylan and me since he was closer, but Sam shut him down hard.
I got a slap across the back before he left and was made to promise to call if I needed him.
I was surprised, since I had never thought Dominic even liked me, much less cared if I lived or died.
I wondered about the change of heart, but really, he was just as invested as Sam was in prosecuting Roman Michaelev, so it made sense.
Sam held the door open for Maggie and Dylan as I climbed up on the other side. Once we were all in, Maggie started asking questions. She wanted to know all about what we did at Barrington. My phone rang, so I let Dylan answer her.
“Hello?”
“Jory, have I told you lately that you’re amazing?”
“Hey, Nicky.” I smiled wide. “How’s it goin’?”
“So much better than good.”
“I’m glad.”
“He thinks we have a real connection. He said he can’t believe we’re in the same place in our lives.”
“See.” I sighed. “I’m gifted.”
“He thinks I’m gorgeous, Jory.”
“You are, Nicky. Tell me again that I was right.”
“You were right—so right. I’m sorry I gave you any shit at all.”
“Call me tomorrow.”
“I will. Good night, my friend.”
I hung up and turned to smile at Dylan.
“Well?”
“I am the love god.”
She smiled at me. “Okay, love god, you’ve done your good deed for the year. We need to find a nice boy for you now.”
“Okay.” I reached across the seat for her hand and lifted her palm to my lips. “Whatever you say, love.”
“I adore you.”
“Rightbackatcha.”
“Ohmygod,” Maggie cooed. “Could you two be any cuter?”
I chuckled, and Sam asked where Dylan lived.
It turned out that Dylan was the first drop-off.
We hugged and kissed, I made sure she didn’t forget the binoculars in the backseat, and I promised to call her in the morning if she needed to pick me up.
On our way to my place, Maggie suggested we stop and get something to eat.
She was starving. I wasn’t asked; Sam just pulled over and parked the car before I could cast my vote.
Inside, he left us to make a call before we were seated. By the time the waiter came to lead us to the table, he was back. I went to take a step and my right leg cramped up. It had been taking most of my weight all day, and it was tired.
“What’s wrong?” he asked me, hand on my shoulder, looking at my face.
“I think I’m gonna skip this and go home. I need to get my weight off—”
“You need to sit and ice your ankle and wrap it up. It’s not broken or you wouldn’t be able to put any weight on it at all, but I bet it’s twisted really badly. You need crutches too.”
“I don’t have—”
“Easy to get. I have this thing I used when I tore my ACL tendon and meniscus. You put ice and water in, and you wrap the other part around your knee or whatever and it—”
“I think I have an ice pack.” My statement cut off his rambling as I leaned around him to look at Maggie. “I gotta go. It was really nice to meet you. I’ll see ya, all right?”
“Jory, why don’t we—”
I turned to go, but the arm around my neck stopped me.
“Stop fighting me,” he said gruffly, pinning me against his body, fiddling with the collar of my coat. “You’re always fighting with me.”
I closed my eyes, let out a deep breath, and leaned back against him.
“Let’s eat something. Then I’ll take you home and fix up your ankle.” His breath was warm down the side of my neck, the words spoken softly, gently, meant to soothe me.
“I—”
“I bet I even have extra crutches at my place.” His lips grazed my skin; he was that close to me.
“I can’t go to your place.”
“Why not?” His voice was so low, so deep.
“I just can’t.”
“That makes no sense.”
“I just… Let go.”
“You’re shaking,” he nearly growled.
“Sam, what’s going on?” Maggie asked suddenly.
“Nothing.” He sighed before he clutched me tighter. “Lean on me, J.”
I had to let him help me to the booth. I gave him my weight, and he wrapped an arm around my waist. He was careful, moving slowly, and I heard the deep sigh that came up out of him as I leaned on him.
“Sam, maybe we should run Jory to the hospital,” Maggie offered, her eyes darting between us.
“No,” he said flatly. There would be no argument.
At the table, he slid into the booth beside me after shedding his coat and picking up his menu. “What’re you gonna eat?”
“I’m not really hungry,” I told him, leaning back.
“You’re gonna hafta take something for the pain, so you need food in your stomach.”
“I can just—”
“Take off your coat.”
I rolled my eyes but took off my trench coat, folding it in half and then laying it down between us.
“Put it on the other side. I’ve got no room.”
I moved it against the wall and took a sip of the water the waitress dropped off. After a couple of minutes Sam realized I was staring at him and turned to look at me.
“What?”
“Is there anything else?”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning you’ve been barking orders at me…is there anything else?”
His grin was lazy and sexy. “Nope.”
“Good,” I said, rubbing the bridge of my nose.
“You want pancakes?”
“No.”
“An omelet?”
“I’m really not hungry.”
He put his knee against mine under the table. “I don’t care.”
I tried to slide over, but his hand was on my thigh instantly, holding me there.
“I’m feeding you. End of story.”
“You know, Sam, this whole macho-bullshit thing you—”
His phone rang.
“Wait,” he ordered, holding up his hand as he pulled his phone from the coat lying beside him in the booth. “Hello. Yeah,” he said, standing up, hovering over the table. “I—hold on.” He pressed it to his chest so whoever was on the other end wouldn’t hear him. “Just eat something.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“You’re always hungry.”
“I am not,” I snapped at him. “And that’s rude.”
“Eat,” he ordered, his voice leaving no room for argument. Except from me.
“I’m not five, Sam. If I say I’m—”
“If you don’t eat, you’re gonna be sick, so have something.”
I scowled up at him.
“Don’t gimme the look, J, just fuckin’ eat.”
“Don’t swear.”
“Eat and I won’t.”
“That’s stupid,” I told him.
“Then I’m stupid. Just eat!” he barked at me.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Eat!”
“No.”
“Jory, if—”
“Don’t tell me what to do.”
“God,” he roared, and I was vaguely aware that the tables around us quieted. “Anything to fight with me! For crissakes, baby, just eat!” he yelled at me before he stalked away.
He was exasperated, but I didn’t care. I opened the menu and started looking at it, even though I was pretty sure I was going to kill him with my butter knife when he got back.
“Jory.”
There was no man on the planet more annoying than him!
“Jory.”
I tilted the menu forward and looked across the table at Maggie. I was startled by the expression on her face. “Are you all right?”
“No, I don’t think so.” Her voice was shaky. “Did he just call you baby?”
“What?” I said automatically, which usually gives people the second they need to take back anything they maybe wish they hadn’t said.
“Did he just call you baby?” Deeper tremor in her voice the second time she asked.
“No.”
“I think he did.”
“No,” I repeated, with more conviction.
“Yes…yes, he did.”
And my heart sank, because he had. I hadn’t even thought about it because, between us, the two of us, it was normal.
I was never usually Jory. I was J, or baby.
It had come out of him without thought, and now Maggie was sitting across from me appearing more than a bit stunned. “I’m sure it was an accident.”
She just stared at me.
“You know how sometimes you’re looking at one person but you say the name of somebody else because you were thinking about them or talking to them a second before and—”
“He called you baby.”
“Only because he was looking at you but talking to me.”
“He wasn’t looking at me.”
“Yeah, but a minute ago he—”