Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
JACK
There’s a strange silence in my apartment when I get home, which means one of two things: either Pepper is plotting a coup, or she’s already succeeded.
I do a sweep, keys in one hand, case file under my arm, ready for whatever disaster Pepper’s cooked up in my absence.
The Frenchie is silent. Not a good sign.
The kitchen is pristine, fridge re-stocked, notes from the cleaner propped against the Frenchie-shaped magnet I still can’t believe my brother bought me as a housewarming gift.
I look around, noticing everything is where it should be.
The counters sparkle, my coffee cup from this morning is washed and hanging on the cup rack near the coffeemaker.
Nothing is out of place, but I sense something is off.
Pepper. My dog, my shadow, is nowhere.
I move to the bedroom, loosening my tie, expecting to find her burrowed under the duvet like always.
Instead, she’s perched on the bed with her eyes fixed on the bathroom door.
She looks guilty. Not her regular “I just ate your one of your favorite shoes” guilty, but “I really did it this time” guilty.
I sigh. “What have you gotten into, angel baby?” I ask.
She doesn’t answer, obviously, but she does thump her tail and turn her whole potato body away from me, ears flat. Defensive.
That’s when I notice the mop handle, jammed under the lever of the bathroom door. I frown, approach, and see it’s wedged perfectly. Like someone—or something—pushed it nice and tight under the handle.
I un-wedge the mop and turn the handle, then push the door open.
As I step inside the bathroom, every molecule in my body contracts, then explodes outward as I notice the stunning brunette sitting next to my tub.
In that microsecond, I know three things: one, Poppy’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, and two, the mystery woman I’ve been lusting after from afar is the woman who’s been cleaning my house for months, and three, Pepper outdid herself with this stunt.
I’m not sure if I should fuss at my spoiled pup or thank her for forcing this meeting between me and my secret crush who happens to be my cleaning lady.
While my spoiled dog whimpers and whines her apologies from the doorway, her stubby black tail tucked between her legs, I step inside the gleaming white bathroom to check on Pepper's prisoner. The scent of lemon cleaner mixed with a little hint of vanilla and lavender hangs in the air.
The woman blinks up at me from her spot on the cool tile floor, those wide chocolate eyes assessing me from beneath a tangle of dark brown curls. "Uh. Hi." Her voice is soft, husky—nothing like I imagined during our months of back-and-forth texts.
My mind whirls with a thousand questions, my pulse hammering in my throat, but I prioritize the most important. "Are you okay?"
Her full lips twitch, like she's fighting off a smirk, a dimple threatening to appear in her left cheek. "I was, until your dog locked me in the bathroom."
I look down at the little terror in question. Pepper rolls onto her back, four paws in the air, playing dead. It’s her go-to defense for when she’s in trouble, and it’s never failed her yet. I glare, but she just lets her tongue loll out the side of her mouth.
“I’m sorry about her,” I say, holding out my hand to help the woman stand. “She’s got separation anxiety and a criminal mind. Are you hurt?” My eyes scan her for injuries, lingering on the delicate curve of her wrist.
Fuck. I’ve caught glimpses of this gorgeous woman around the building.
I told myself I didn’t have time to explore a relationship and to forget her.
It was easier said than done. This woman has been starring in my dreams for weeks.
Now, that I’ve found out who she is, I’m not about to let the opportunity to get to know her slip through my fingers.
The object of my secret obsession laughs, the sound soft and totally unexpected. “No, I’m fine. Except for my pride, which may never recover.” Her hand slips into mine, and holy hell, I almost forget how to breathe.
Her palm is small, warm, and a little rough around the edges.
Those calluses are all I can think about as her fingers curl around mine.
I want to drag her closer, bury my face in her neck, and inhale the scent of her.
God, she smells good. Like vanilla, fresh laundry, and maybe the faintest hint of lemon from whatever cleaner she uses.
I pull her gently to her feet, and the connection between us doesn’t break. Instead, it gets stronger. My chest is tight. My cock is already hard, pressed painfully against my zipper as I stare down at her. I don’t want to let go.
I let myself really look at her. She’s short, maybe five-two, soft curves, and with messy curls that beg to be dragged between my fingers.
Her smock is halfway falling off one shoulder, and underneath I catch a faded Def Leppard tee stretched over tits that would fill my palms perfectly.
Sweatpants ride low on her hips, hugging her ass like a fucking invitation.
I want to grip those hips, bury my face in her neck, and taste the sweet spot beneath her ear.
Her wide brown eyes are so damn expressive, it’s like she can’t keep a single thought to herself. She’s trying to act calm and collected, but her tongue darts out to wet her lips and her hands shake as she dusts off her knees.
I slowly release her hand as she smiles up at me. “You must be Detective Vale.” Fuck. Where the hell are my manners. Grammie Sue would roll over in her grave if she realized I met the woman I’m going to marry and didn’t even bother to introduce myself.
“I am. But please call me Jack.” I try to remember how to function like a normal person, but all the blood has officially vacated my brain and gone south. She’s still staring up at me with those impossibly big brown eyes, and for a second, all I can do is drink her in.
Her lips curve, like she’s already figured out I’m wrecked. “Poppy Lane. I clean your apartment. And, occasionally, get trapped in your bathroom by a dog with no moral compass.”
“Nice to finally meet you, Poppy.” My voice comes out rougher than I intended.
“And I’m really sorry about my dog. Why don’t you let me and Pepper make it up to you?
” Fuck yes. Brilliant goddamn idea. It kills two birds with one stone.
I get to spend more time with Poppy and make amends for what Pepper did at the same time.
“How exactly do you plan to do that?” She stares up at me, lips parted, cheeks flushed.
Damn, I want to see how deep that flush goes.
All I can think about is getting my hands on her.
She tugs her smock straight, but it doesn’t help.
Her tits nearly bounce out of that T-shirt every time she moves.
I have to clench my jaw to keep from hauling her against me and seeing how perfectly she fits.
“Would you have dinner with us tonight? Pepper will use her toy allowance to pay for it.” Yes, my dog has a toy allowance. And yes, I’m fucking nuts but I don’t care. “We can order in anything you want.” It’s the perfect goddamn solution.
She laughs, head thrown back, and holy fuck, I want to hear that sound every goddamn day for the rest of my life. “You’re forcing your dog to buy us dinner?”
I step closer, crowding her against the marble counter, and watch her eyes go wide.
She’s not running. Hell no, she’s leaning in, licking her lips, and my cock is so hard, it might tear through my zipper.
“Pepper’s very generous. And she feels terrible for trapping you in the bathroom all afternoon. ”
She blinks up at me, and I swear I could drown in those big brown eyes of hers. “That’s… actually kind of adorable. Also, I’m starving. I’d kill for barbecue, or maybe pizza. Actually, Chinese doesn’t sound too bad either.”
Her little stomach rumbles, loud as a freight train, and for some reason, it makes my chest feel tight. I want to feed her. Fuck, I want to make sure she’s never hungry again. I mentally scroll through every take-out option within ten miles, already plotting how I’m going to keep her here with me.
I lean in, close enough to see the gold flecks in her eyes, and drop my voice. “Let’s get you fed, Poppy. After a day like you’ve had, you deserve to be spoiled.”
She shoves her hair off her forehead and her eyes light up. “Since Pepper is generously paying, I think we should order sushi from The Happy Chopstick.”
My stomach drops. I goddamn hate raw motherfucking fish. In fact, I avoid it at all costs, but I’d eat a paper sack right now to spend more time with Poppy. So, I paste a smile on my face and shrug. “Sushi it is.”
She lights up like I just gave her a damn diamond necklace. “Really?”
I nod, keeping my face as neutral as possible. If I have to choke down raw fish to keep her here, so be it. I’ll eat whatever the hell she wants as long as I get to watch her enjoy it.
The air in the room electrifies, charged with something I can't name but recognize deep in my bones.
My fingers tingle with the need to touch her again.
Jesus, I've interrogated stone-cold killers without breaking a sweat, but this five-foot-nothing cleaning girl has me shaking like a rookie on his first day.
I grab my phone, fingers one-tapping by muscle memory into the delivery app, grateful for something to focus on besides the curve of her mouth. "What do you want?"
She presses her lips together, thinking hard, then rattles off three rolls and a side of pork dumplings. Her stomach rumbles again, even louder this time, so I order double of everything, just in case. Then I add miso soup and mochi, which I’m ninety-nine percent sure is dessert.