Forgiving Lies

She swallowed audibly and shook her head as if to clear her mind before speaking. “Because I’m not? I’m not attracted to guys who look like they’re Photoshopped and who have bigger chests than most girls I know.”

I couldn’t help it. I laughed loudly and had to pull back slightly when the movement and being pressed up against her made my jeans shrink a size. “Liar.” Even if her voice hadn’t gone all breathy, I still hadn’t forgotten her blush.

“And I really hate your tattoos.”

“No you don’t.”

“And your lip ring and your eyes. And your hair, it drives me nuts. You really need to cut it. Or better yet, one morning you’ll wake up and I will have shaved it off while you slept.”

I smiled and let my nose run along her jaw, loving the quick breath she took and how her eyes fluttered shut when I did. “Good to know your favorite things about me, Sour Patch. And if you’re wondering . . . everything about you is my favorite.”

“They’re not. And I wasn’t.”

“Keep telling yourself that if it helps you sleep at night. But do you think we could wrap up this meeting about how much you want me? I really need to go buy about a dozen pints of ice cream so I can work at not looking Photoshopped anymore.”

Her eyes snapped open and darkened as she narrowed them at me. “God, you’re annoying.”

“And you’re keeping me from eating.”

“I’m not the one who isn’t dressed.”

Touché. “I think I should go like this. Maybe there will be a woman there who appreciates the way I look.” I grinned when her blue eyes narrowed and started singing “No Shoes, No Shirt, No Problems” by Kenny Chesney as I backed out of the kitchen.

I needed her to stay away from me, but damn if I wasn’t grinning like an idiot knowing that Rachel was falling for me just as hard as I was falling for her.

6

Rachel

STUPID TEXAS AND stupid allergies.

I’d never had allergies until I moved to Texas. And although I still had yet to determine what exactly it was I was allergic to, whenever it hit, it hit with a vengeance. I couldn’t breathe through my nose, I sounded like a man, my face felt like it was going to break from being so congested, and my eyes were watering so bad it looked like I was constantly crying.

It was sexy.

I threw away the last empty box of Kleenex and went into the bathroom to grab a roll of toilet paper to take back to the couch with me. The front door opened as I was headed out of my bedroom and I saw Kash closing the door behind him. I would’ve sworn I’d locked that when Candice left for camp that morning.

Kash looked up when I entered the living room, and his eyes went wide. “You okay, Rach?”

“Ugh.”

“I’ll take that as a no,” he murmured, and bit back a smile when he saw the roll of toilet paper I was carrying with me. “Do you have the flu?”

I shook my head and flopped down on the couch dramatically. “Whachoo want?”

Walking quickly over to me, he knelt down and put the back of his hand to my forehead. I swatted at it but he held down my hands and tried to decide if I had a fever. “You just have a cold then?”

“Allergies. Stupid mold or cedar or . . . air.”

“Have you taken anything?”

“Nope. Juss woke up. Cantchoo tell?” I waved a hand over my pajama-covered body and wiped my tears away.

He smiled softly and stood up. “You still look beautiful. Let me find you something to take.”

I wanted to have an aww moment, but just then I started in on a string of sneezes.

“Only six sneezes?” Kash called from the kitchen. “Come on, Rach. You’re slacking. Next time go for eight at least.”

I flipped him off and then there was a knock at the door. “Ugh.” That was quickly becoming my favorite word. Rolling to the side, I tried to get my legs on the ground to get off the couch, but I rolled too far and my feet didn’t move fast enough and I landed with a thud on the floor. “Fuck my life.”

Kash barked out a laugh as I sluggishly got to my feet. “Get back on the couch, I’ll get it.”

“No, no. My door. I answer.”

“It’s eight thirty, it’s going to be Mrs. Adams.”

He remembered? “Crap. I forgod it was Thursday.”

“Oh, you forgod, did you?”

I looked up at Kash’s wicked smile and wished I had the energy to punch him. “Shuddup.”

He beat me to the door and opened it as I came up behind him.

“Ra— Oh, you’re a boy. Um . . .” Mrs. Adams stood there wringing her hands. “Uh, well . . . is Rachel here? She needs to help me, my cats are all gone.”

“Hi, Mrs. Adams.” I stepped up and tried to smile.

“Rachel dear! They’re all gone, come quick!”

“Umb, I’m a little sick.”

She shook her head. “The cats, dear.”

I couldn’t close my mouth and I’m pretty sure snot was starting to come out of my nose. Could she not see this?

“I’ll help you, Mrs. Adams,” Kash said with a charming smile.

“Butters won’t respond to a boy.”

Pushing past Kash, I looked at Mrs. Adams. “Well, let’s find them, then.”

“Yes, of course.” She turned and began searching. “Butters!”

“Budders,” I called lamely, and was suddenly being pulled backward. “Kash, stop. She needs help.”

“Go get on the couch. I’m not going to tell you again.” He pushed me back toward my door and gave me a stern look. “I’ll help her today.”

I stood there long enough to see Mrs. Adams look at him like he had three heads and Kash look underneath a bench before I walked back into the kitchen. After searching through the mostly bare medicine cabinet, I grabbed the bottle I was looking for and took a big swig before shuffling back to the couch.

Kash walked in a few minutes later and immediately went to the kitchen. Opening the same cabinet I’d just been in, he looked around before shutting it and looking over the counter at me. “Rach, there’s nothing here you can take. I’ll run to the st—What’s in your hand?”

I lifted up the toilet paper roll.

“Other hand.”

I lifted up the NyQuil.

“It’s eight thirty in the morning. You’re taking NyQuil?”

“Ugh.” That’s sick-talk for Yes, I am, stop bitching at me.

“All right, give me that.” He pried the NyQuil from my hand and bent close. “I’ll go to the store and get something for whenever you wake back up. Is there anything you need or want?”

“Nope.” I rolled to my side and hugged the roll of toilet paper as I curled into a ball. I just wanted to go back to sleep and not have my nose feel like it was about to fall off.

A few moments later Kash was laying my comforter on me and lifting my head up to stuff my pillow beneath it. After a quick kiss to the top of my head, he was gone. He so deserved pancakes tomorrow morning.

Another round of sneezes tore through me. Only five? Fail.

Maybe his pancakes would have to wait until Saturday.

WHEN I WOKE up a few hours later, the apartment was empty, but the coffee table had boxes of Kleenex, cold and allergy medicine, a bottle of water, and a note on it.

Rach,

Had to run to the bar to take inventory. Mason’s running errands, call me if you need anything. The rest is in the kitchen. And if you eat my green ones, I will not take pity on you just because you’re sick.

Kash

Green ones? I walked into the kitchen and laughed out loud. The counter had four cans of chicken noodle soup, eight Gatorade bottles, and three boxes of Sour Patch Kids on it. I put away everything except for one of the boxes and went back to my makeshift bed on the couch. Kash was either the worst . . . or the absolute best at taking care of someone. Either way, I was falling so in love with that man.

And yeah, I ate the green ones. I’d have to remember to hide the other two boxes before he came over again.

Kash

“CHICKEN NOODLE SOUP and Gatorade?” Mason laughed and opened the door to the police department. “She said she had allergies, not the flu.”

“Well shit, I don’t know! She really looked like she didn’t feel good, so I just got her everything I could think of.”

“You’re so whipped and you’re not even screwing her.”

I shook my head and tried not to punch him. “Shut up, Mase.”

We walked in silence the rest of the way to the conference room and both stopped when we got in the room. What the hell was our chief from Tampa Bay doing here?

He didn’t look at or acknowledge us in any way during our three-hour meeting on Camden, possible leads, and some new courses of action. The millions of reasons he could have been there in Texas ran through my mind the entire time, and to be honest, at the end of the meeting I couldn’t remember the actual details of it. I wasn’t sure what Mason thought of his being there, but from the fact that his face was drained of color, I figured it was the same as me. Chief wouldn’t have been there for good news.

“Gentlemen,” he said by way of greeting once the room was finally cleared out, “sounds like you’re doing your jobs well. Had a meeting with Detective Ryder before everyone was called in and we went over some things.”

“You’re checking up on us? Are you kidding me?” Mason looked annoyed but relieved that that was all he was there for. “When have we ever not done everything and more than what was asked of us at our jobs?”

Chief raised one graying eyebrow. “You’re right. You do do more. Surely you haven’t forgotten about what you did to get the police-brutality charge brought against you, right, Gates?”

Mason shut his mouth.

“And I’m not checking up on you to make sure you’re doing well. If I didn’t think you two were some of the best I’ve ever worked with, I wouldn’t have given you this opportunity after what went down last month. I would have just suspended you before sending you to a desk.”