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supremely pissed off.
    “When will you be home?” I ask her.
    “The twenty-seventh. Grace will still be town
so we’ll all get together, ‘kay?”
    “Sure. No problem. I’ll see you then.”
    We say our goodbyes and taking a deep breath,
I get out of the car. He doesn’t say a word as I pass him and walk
into the house. He’s cooked again. It smells divine. Who is this
guy and what has he done with Trace Graham? I head straight to the
kitchen and to the stove, lifting the lid on a pot of marina sauce
and breathing the scent in. Incredible. Why is he taking care of
me? Is it just about the sex? When I look at him I don’t have a
clue. He’s just so…detached. It irritates me no end.
    “You need to stop breaking into my house,” I
snap. He just cocks an eyebrow.
    “We both have to eat, Serenity. And you know
as well as I do, at some point tonight we’re gonna end up in bed
together.”
    I feel a little lightheaded at the image that
statement evokes and firm my resolve. He’s so damned cocky. Am I
that big a pushover? Or just that far gone? I remember the scene at
the gym this morning and the way he stood against me. I didn’t
expect him to take my side but he could have at least stayed
neutral. And that is a damned good reminder of why I shouldn’t be
fucking him. I shouldn’t care about what he does or doesn’t do or
how he treats me when other people are around. But damn it. I
do.
    “Oh you’re gonna have do some groveling
before you get back in my bed,” I snap.
    He doesn’t say a word as I pour a drink and
light a cigarette but I see the distaste on his face. I guess he’s
had ten years to kick the habit. He probably thinks I’m weak and
have no willpower. The hell with him. While I watch he fills a pot
with water, puts it on the stove and turns the heat to high.
There’s a box of spaghetti waiting on the counter but he doesn’t
touch it.
    “You’re playing with fire, baby,” he says,
and I hate that I melt at that endearment.
    “Am I? Let me guess. Hunter talked to you and
you got sent to call me off, right?” I ask bitterly. This is such
bullshit.
    “You’re a small town cop,” he says. “If you
think something is really wrong here why aren’t you bringing in the
experts?”
    That cuts. He thinks I’m not capable? Or
qualified? I watch him. No, that’s not it. He’s trying to misdirect
me. To distract me. I’m not falling for it.
    “How’s your training going?” I ask. “New
Year’s in Panama City, right? That’s not long off.”
    Ten days. I can’t believe it’s that close and
that far. He gives me a look I can’t decipher but he doesn’t change
the subject.
    “Yeah. And the training is going well.” Then
he grins. “Are you coming?”
    It’s not an outrageous question. I’ve been
before, a very long time ago, and it’s obvious he remembers. I’m
not sure I can stomach it anymore. I barely could then. And I’ll
still be wearing this badge on December thirty first. I shake my
head.
    “No. It would probably be best if I
don’t.”
    “It’s in another state. And you’re resigning,
remember?” He doesn’t sound happy about that. “Why didn’t you tell
me before Hunter?”
    Ah, I get it now. He’s pissed he didn’t hear
first. I shrug. “We were talking. It came up.”
    “When?” he asks but there’s too much demand
there and I bristle.
    “Excuse me?”
    “When is your last day?” he clarifies.
    “January fifteenth.”
    What the hell am I doing? I’m answering his
questions but he’s not giving me shit.
    “You need to let the Monroe thing go,
Serenity,” he says softly.
    “Why?”
    He shakes his head and I know he’s not going
to give me a reason even though he knows shit. God, it burns my
ass. Why is he here? Why am I doing this? I’m breaking every single
rule I’ve made for myself over the last decade. I am so not doing
this. I stand up.
    “Get out. Just go, Trace.”
    He looks stunned and I’m tempted to laugh but
this is just not