Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 88290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
“Like what?” Sam bristled. “Is he trying to get him to exercise and lose weight? Because the man is not unhealthy, and no one should be browbeaten in their home to––”
“No. Things like when they go to the store, this Slater tells him to watch where he’s walking and stop staring at his phone.”
“Oh.” Sam nodded. “Well, I can find no fault with that.”
“Apparently he yells a lot, and he’s driving Carwood nuts, but they’re stuck in the lease together until next February.”
“And you think what?”
“I’m not sure, but Carwood uses words like infuriating, bossy, and he’s apparently been terribly rude to some of his dates.”
“You mean Carwood’s dates.”
“Yes.”
“Huh.”
“And yet, when Carwood invited him tonight, he accepted.”
“Okay, fine,” Sam said begrudgingly. “This is sounding less awful from a gathering-intel perspective.”
“Good.”
“If the food is crappy, I want a burger, you understand?”
“Yes, dear.”
He was on his way upstairs but stopped before he went up. “And I want my annual Valentine’s Day shagging.”
“What’s the difference between that and regular Tuesday night shagging?” I teased him. “And what’s with the word ‘shagging’?”
“We have some people visiting from England, DCI Willows and Allensworth, both nice, and I’ve been listening to them talk all day and it sort of rubbed off.”
“But shagging?”
“Yeah, apparently Willows is a bit of a player, and Allensworth said that he’d be shagging all night and she would try and make sure they were on time the next morning even if she had to hose him down and drag him in.”
“Is she madly in love with him and waiting for the day he wakes up and sees her?” I asked hopefully, because clearly, I was living in a rom-com.
His scowl was dark. “No. She’s a perfectly together married mother of two. As her kids are young, I gave her pointers.”
“Oh? Like what?”
“Like before she gets on a plane with her three-year-old, walk him on the moveable sidewalk until they have to board.”
“Yes,” I said, nodding. “An oldie but a goodie. Kola used to run and run.”
“And go nowhere,” Sam said, chuckling.
“And go nowhere,” I echoed. “But he’d be zonked out by the time we got on the plane.”
“That’s right.”
“We were clever when we were younger,” I told him.
“Speak for yourself. I’m still clever.”
“But back to Willows," I said, getting the conversation back on track. “Allensworth thinks he’ll be playing the field this evening?”
“Yeah. She said that he has to fly out of the country to get laid because he’s had sex with everyone in England.”
I started laughing.
“But I want my Valentine’s Day shagging.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” I assured him.
He was smiling as he went up the stairs.
Sam was grumbling when we arrived at the culinary school down on Wacker Drive. Apparently, Dates with Friends rented space at the school for their monthly get-togethers, and they were held there so you could cook while you chatted. It sounded amazing.
“It sounds horrible,” Sam assured me as we walked into the large areas where several kitchen islands were set up. It looked like it did on the cooking shows where everyone had their own space to cook. Dane and Aja were waiting just inside, and I could tell, from one look at my brother, that he was not happy. Up close, his glare was glacial.
There was a maître d’ who checked for our names and then passed us our kitchen assignments on a number attached to a set of measuring spoons. It was all on a key ring, and I gushed about how clever that was.
“I agree,” Aja said excitedly, “so cute.”
Dane was not impressed.
“If I wanted to cook with strangers on Valentine’s Day,” he muttered under his breath when we reached the station where he and Aja were, “I—no. I don’t want to do anything with strangers most days, and especially not on Valentine’s Day.”
I shot him a look.
“What?” he nearly growled.
“You need to be a better friend.”
“Christina is not my friend.”
“She’s your wife’s friend,” I amended, “so technically, yours.”
“No,” he grumbled. “Aja doesn’t even like her.”
I turned to her.
“Did I say we were friends?”
“Really?” I shook my head.
“We’re colleagues.”
“Great,” I told her. “I know why I came, it’s for Carwood and because you asked me, but why did you drag the prince of darkness here with you if you and Christina aren’t friends?”
“What was I supposed to do? Christina needs me, and I need him,” she said, gesturing at her husband. “And he wasn’t coming without backup.”
Sam grunted.
“Christina’s divorce has been rough, and this is the nicest, most informal, non-threatening way to meet new people.”
“While I’m sorry about her divorce,” Sam said, trying to sound diplomatic, “why am I being punished?”
“Excellent point,” Dane seconded.
“You two are bad friends,” I informed my husband and brother.
“That’s a lie,” Dane said defensively. “I’m a great friend. Loyal. Supportive. Kind.” He turned to look at Sam. “Aren’t I?”