Chapter 4 #2
Victoria shrugged, like it wasn’t worth mentioning. “Lav’s been keeping me sane since my lieutenant days.”
The captain of cool professionalism has a favorite local hangout?
Isabel didn’t know what surprised her more: the fact that Victoria apparently had a life outside of work, or the fact that it involved this place—a warm, slightly chaotic pocket of comfort that didn’t fit the image Isabel had built in her head.
“Great,” Isabel muttered, shaking her head. “Should’ve known you’d have secret allies scattered across the city.”
Victoria gave her a look, sharp and unreadable. “I’m full of surprises, Torres.”
Yeah, Isabel thought, following Victoria toward an empty table. No kidding.The way she said it—low, almost teasing—sent a flicker of heat down Isabel’s spine.
“Oh, I’m sure you do…” She lowered her voice, drawing out the name, “Tori.”
Isabel smirked as she watched Victoria bristle at the nickname, but noted the goosebumps crawling up her arms. If Isabel could get a reaction just from a name, she couldn’t wait to see what else she could get out of her tonight.
They settled into a corner table near the window, where the string lights tangled with the soft glow of streetlamps outside.
The mismatched chairs creaked as they sat—Victoria with her back straight like she was still at a precinct briefing, Isabel slouching comfortably, one arm draped over the back of her chair.
Lavender strolled over without a notepad, clearly not needing one. “Same as usual for you, Langley?”
Victoria nodded. “Whiskey, neat.”
“Christ,” Isabel muttered. “Of course it’s whiskey. What’s next? Are you gonna pull out a pocket watch and talk about ‘back in my day?’”
Victoria didn’t blink. “Only if you start whining about avocado toast and student loans.”
Isabel grinned, heart skipping a beat. So she does bite back when she’s off the clock.
Lavender chuckled. “I like this one,” she told Victoria, jerking a thumb toward Isabel. “She’s mouthy. You need more of that in your life.”
Victoria’s gaze flicked to Isabel, unreadable. “Trust me. I’m well aware.”
The heat in that look was enough to make Isabel sit up a little straighter.
“Another spritz for you?” Lavender asked Isabel, already half-turning toward the bar.
Isabel hesitated, then shook her head. “Whiskey. Rocks.”
Victoria’s eyebrow arched just a fraction.
“What?” Isabel teased. “Figured I’d try something age-appropriate, since I’m apparently having dinner with someone who pre-dates the internet.”
Victoria leaned back in her chair, unbothered. “Careful, Torres. The last person who made an age joke in my presence ended up on desk duty for a month.”
“Worth it,” Isabel shot back, grinning. She turned her head toward Lavender and added. “I’m also going to have the burger.” Isabel smirked at Victoria, arching a brow sarcastically. “I’m supposed to be eating.”
Lavender snorted and walked away, leaving them in the soft hum of conversation and mellow music.
Isabel stretched her legs out under the table, her boot brushing against Victoria’s polished shoe. Accidental? Definitely not.
“So,” Isabel said, watching Victoria carefully, “how does someone like you end up somewhere like this? Lavender’s doesn’t exactly scream ‘no-nonsense captain.’”
Victoria’s lips twitched. “You think I live at the precinct?”
“I think you want people to think that,” Isabel countered. “Easier to keep walls up when everyone assumes you don’t have a life outside of work.”
That earned her a considering look.
“Lavender’s was a recommendation,” Victoria finally said, glancing toward the bar where Lavender was chatting with a customer.
“One of my first cases as lieutenant—domestic situation. Messy. Lavender testified as a character witness for one of the victims. After the trial, she told me I looked like I needed a drink and dragged me here.”
Isabel blinked. “Wait. Lavender dragged you somewhere?”
Victoria’s smile was faint but real. “She’s pushier than she looks.”
So you can be pushed, Isabel thought, filing that information away for later.
Their food and drinks arrived, clinking softly against the worn wooden table. Isabel picked up her glass, watching the way Victoria cradled hers—fingers wrapped around the heavy glass, thumb tracing the rim absently.
“All right, Langley,” Isabel drawled, tipping her glass toward the captain. “To unlikely dinner companions.”
Victoria clinked her glass against Isabel’s. “And even unlikelier peace and quiet.”
They drank. It surprised Isabel how easy it was after that.
The conversation drifted, lighter than she expected.
Isabel poked fun at the precinct’s terrible coffee, Victoria rolled her eyes but admitted she kept her own stash in her desk (“You mean you’ve been hoarding the good stuff this whole time?
” “Captain’s privilege.”), and somewhere between the first and second round, they stopped sounding like a captain and a detective and started sounding like people.
It was the first time Isabel had ever seen Victoria without the weight of command pressing down on her shoulders.
And damn if that didn’t make her more attractive.
It wasn’t just the sharp mind and cool authority anymore. It was the dry humor. The faint smile lines around her eyes. The way she relaxed—not fully, but enough—for Isabel to glimpse the woman underneath the uniform.
She wanted more of this.
God, Isabel realized, I’m already in too deep.
Somewhere around drink two (or was it three?), Lavender wandered by, dropping a fresh bowl of pretzels on the table with the practiced ease of someone who’d seen more late-night heart-to-hearts than she could count.
“You two look like you’re either plotting a heist or falling in love,” she teased, wiping her hands on a dish towel.
Victoria gave her a flat look. “Do you always eavesdrop on your customers?”
“Only the interesting ones.” Lavender winked at Isabel, then strolled back behind the bar.
Isabel grinned and leaned forward, elbows on the table. “So, Captain. Are we plotting or falling?”
Victoria didn’t flinch. “I’d say we’re barely tolerating each other.”
“Speak for yourself. I’m having a great time,” Isabel drawled, tipping her glass toward Victoria.
And the thing was…she was.
The usual sharpness between them had softened into something warmer, something Isabel didn’t quite know what to do with. It was one thing to flirt, to poke the bear and enjoy the thrill of getting under Victoria’s skin.
But this? This felt like peeling back layers she hadn’t expected to find.
The shift happened when Isabel, tipsy but clearheaded, let the humor drop for just a moment.
“I moved here for a fresh start,” she admitted, swirling the ice in her glass. “Needed to get away from a city that stopped feeling like home. Thought a change of scenery might…” She trailed off, shrugging. “Fix something, I guess.”
Victoria’s gaze softened, the usual edge of scrutiny replaced by something quieter. “Has it?”
“Jury’s still out,” Isabel said lightly. “But it’s not all bad. The coffee’s terrible, but the company’s improving.”
Victoria’s lips curved, and for a moment, they just sat there. Two women in a corner of a cafe, the rest of the world fading into the soft hum of background music and the clink of glasses.
And then, as if the mood had gotten too heavy, Victoria leaned back and said dryly, “I’m glad I could personally elevate your experience of Phoenix Ridge.”
Isabel laughed, the warmth in her chest spreading.
But it didn’t last. Victoria’s gaze drifted, her fingers tightening around her glass.
“You know,” she said quietly, almost to herself, “when Lily Harper called me after Chloe was taken, she didn’t cry. Not at first. She just… asked if I was the one handling it.”
Isabel sobered instantly, heart tightening.
“She sounded so sure,” Victoria continued, voice steady but strained. “As if she believed I’d have answers before I even knew the questions.” She exhaled slowly. “I’m not sure what’s worse—failing Chloe, or failing her mother’s belief that I wouldn’t.”
Isabel didn’t think. She reached across the table, her fingers brushing Victoria’s wrist.
“You’re not failing,” she said firmly. “You’re the reason we’re this close. You caught the caterer’s lie, kept the team focused, and didn’t let Voss cover her tracks completely. Chloe’s got a hell of a lot better odds because you’re on this.”
Victoria looked at her, something raw flickering behind those sharp blue eyes.
For once, she didn’t argue.
The rest of the evening softened after that.
They lingered longer than Isabel expected—long enough for Lavender to flip the sign on the door to Closed and for Fig to stretch, yawn, and shuffle over to lean against Victoria’s chair like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Isabel found herself watching Victoria more than she should have.
The way the lamplight caught the silver in her hair. The delicate lines around her mouth when she smiled—really smiled, not the practiced one she wore at work. The way her fingers curled around her glass, steady and sure.
God, I’m screwed, Isabel thought, the realization hitting like a punch to the gut. I don’t just want her in my bed. I want her in my life.
And judging by the way Victoria’s gaze lingered, like she was memorizing the shape of Isabel in this moment, the feeling wasn’t entirely one-sided.
It was nearly midnight when they finally stood to leave, chairs scraping quietly against the worn floorboards. Outside, the night air was cool, the city quieter than usual. Isabel pulled out her phone to call an Uber, but before she could unlock it, Victoria hesitated beside her.
For a moment—just a moment—the world narrowed to the space between them.
Victoria glanced down at Isabel’s mouth, then back up, her expression torn between want and restraint.
Isabel didn’t move. Didn’t speak.
Let her come to you, she told herself. Don’t push. Let her decide.
Victoria leaned in—so close Isabel could feel the warmth of her breath, see the faint flush high on her cheekbones.
Then, just as quickly, she pulled back.
“Good night, Torres,” Victoria said, voice tight. Professional.
The mask was back in place.
Isabel swallowed the sting of disappointment and forced a crooked smile. “Night, Captain.”
Victoria didn’t wait for the Uber to arrive. She just nodded once and strode away, back straight, like nothing had happened.
As if Isabel hadn’t watched her almost break.
Fig ambled out of the cafe as Lavender locked up, the little dog flopping down at Isabel’s feet with a contented sigh.
Lavender leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. “That looked complicated.”
Isabel huffed a quiet laugh. “That’s one word for it.”
Lavender tilted her head, considering. “She’s worth it, you know. If you’re patient.”
Isabel glanced down the street where Victoria had disappeared.
Patience wasn’t exactly her strong suit. But for this?
She was willing to learn.