Blind Date

  The power flicks back on, and I shield my eyes as the light feels that much brighter now that it’s been out for a while. I rub my eyes a few times, and then blink rapidly when I uncover them to get them adjusted. When I glance over at Ace, he’s staring at me, and his eyes search over me, starting on my face and traveling over my body. Is he looking to see if I’m injured? Did he think I was hurt?

  “What happened?” he asks.

  I swallow and rub my upper arms. I’m cold even though it really isn’t cool in here at all.

  “I heard some noises,” I say softly. “And my phone rang. My husband’s phone was calling. Then, I swear Ace, I saw someone in my doorway. A man, I think, wearing a black hoodie. I could be wrong, because when the lightning lit up the room again, there was nobody there. And then when you came over, the door was locked…”

  Ace stands. “Where’s your phone?”

  “I threw it in the bedroom.”

  “Wait here.”

  He disappears down the hall in a few long strides. He’s gone for a few minutes before reappearing again with my phone in his hand. He’s staring down at the screen. “There are some missed calls from your husband’s number. I don’t think you were imagining it.”

  “I know I wasn’t imagining that,” I say, tucking my knees up to my chest. “But do you think someone was in here?”

  He walks off again, and is gone for another few minutes, searching through the apartment before returning and standing in front of me, looking down. “There doesn’t seem to be any sign of forced entry.”

  My heart plummets. So am I losing it then? Was I seeing things? God, I could swear someone was standing in my doorway. I could swear it as surely as I breathe.

  Ace must see the expression on my face, because he says carefully, “That’s not to say you didn’t see someone, it’s just however they got in, they’re a pro at it.”

  I feel like he’s just trying to make me feel better now.

  “Ace?” I ask, looking up.

  “Mmmm?”

  “Do you think I’m crazy?”

  His brows knit together, and he says in a low, gruff tone, “Absolutely fucking not.”

  I don’t know why, but that makes me start crying again. Big ugly tears roll down my cheeks and I feel stupid for being so weak. My mind is a jumbled mess, and I’m tired, and I’m trying to make sense of everything. Ace is silent for a moment, so long I wonder if he’s still in the room, but then he squats down in front of me and surprises me by taking my chin in his hands, forcing my head up just enough so that he can make eye contact with me.

  “This is a lot to take in and I know you’re probably questioning everything right now, but don’t question yourself. You’re not crazy. You’re being messed with, and I’m goin’ to find who is messin’ with you, and make them fuckin’ stop. Do you understand me?”

  My bottom lip quivers.

  “I’m the best in my field, Hartley. Now, I ask again, do you understand me?”

  “Yes,” I whisper.

  “Good. How do you take your tea? I’m going to make you one and then you’re going to get some sleep.”

  It isn’t a question, but a demand.

  And I don’t argue it.

  Having him here makes me feel safe, so there is no way I’ll continue to argue with anything he’s willing to give me.

  I need him here.

  * * *

  “How did you lose your husband?” Ace asks, sitting at one end of the sofa. I’m tucked up the other end with a blanket wrapped around the lower half of my body and a cup of tea resting between my hands.

  “He died in a car accident,” I tell him, and I realize it’s been a long time since I’ve really told anyone about Raymond. “It’s the age-old story, really. He was driving home and it was raining, a car lost control and ran him off the road. His truck flipped and he was killed instantly.”

  Ace studies me. “I’m sorry. It’s never easy to lose someone you love.”

  He sounds like he knows.

  “No, it wasn’t easy. I struggled for a long time. I loved him, wholeheartedly. He was a great man, the best. He was the kind of husband you read about, the kind everyone envied. It felt like a cruel twist of fate, that something would come along and rip it from me so easily.”

  He nods. “He sounds like a good man.”

  “He was.” I nod. Talking about him out loud feels good. “What about you?” I ask him before sipping my tea. “Have you ever been married?”

  His eyes flash, and he looks to me. “Yeah.”

  Oh.

  Oh my.

  There is something in his eyes. I can see it so clearly, because I’ve seen it in my own eyes thousands of times in the last four years when I have looked in the mirror. It’s an emptiness, a sadness most would overlook. But I can see it so clearly. He’s been hurt. In a big way.

  So I ask in a soft tone, “Is your wife still around?”

  Pain flashes across those depths, before he roughly shakes his head. “No. She passed away. Breast cancer.”

  So he does know how it feels, I was right. He does understand the pain I felt. The kind of pain no words in the world could ever describe. The kind of pain that rips into your soul, and lodges itself there, until nothing you can do will remove it. It hangs around like a constant ache, a growth you can’t remove. Even on your best days, you can feel it, just thrumming away, reminding you of what you lost.

  “I’m so sorry, Ace,” I whisper, and my voice is soft and genuine. “I know exactly how much it hurts.”

  “Yeah,” he mutters gruffly. “I know you do.”

  “Was it long ago?”

  “Two years.”

  Poor guy. Two years, in the grand scheme of things, seems like a long time, but when you lose someone you love, it passes in the blink of an eye and you feel like nothing has changed, like nothing is moving forward, like you’ll never be okay again.

  “I’m really sorry,” I say again, because, what else is there to say?

  There’s a long pause before he asks, “You ever want any kids?”

  “Yeah,” I answer him. “We tried, but he passed before we could ever make too much of an effort. Did you?”

  He shakes his head.

  Right.

  It’s clear this conversation has come to an end for now. He’s obviously not wanting to talk about it, so I decide to change the subject and put him out of his misery.

  “How long have you been a detective?”

  That’s always a safe subject. Talking about someone’s work.

  “Seven years, but I was a cop for three years before that.”

  “Do you like it?” I ask, rubbing my hands around the mug, warming them up.

  He nods. “It’s demanding, but I like the challenge it presents.”

  “I can only imagine. I don’t know how you do it. The kind of mind you must have, to be able to go through all those clues and figure out a crime, it’s pretty impressive.”

  “Yeah, it keeps me busy.”

  I can imagine. I nod and give him a small smile. “I bet.”

  “What about you? Why did you decide to become a midwife?”

  I meet his eyes. Of course he knows what I’m studying, I forgot he did a background check on me. “I love kids. I love babies. I just love the idea of helping bring life into the world. I thought about studying to be an OB, but decided a midwife was what I wanted to do.”

  Ace stares at me, and doesn’t say anything, he just studies me.

  “You’re an incredibly intense man, has anyone ever told you that?”

  He grunts. “Yeah. Often.”

  “I think if you let that guard down a little, there might just be a lot of good beneath the surface.”

  He keeps studying me, his lip twitches slightly, and it’s like he can’t make sense of something, or maybe he’s trying to figure something out.

  “You like that dick you’re seeing?”

  I blink.

  Random change of subject.


  “Jacob?”

  He nods.

  “Yeah,” I say. “I mean, we’re just casually dating and seeing if there is a future to proceed onto. He’s a nice guy.”

  Ace snorts. “He’s a wimp.”

  I hold back my grunt, and maybe a little giggle.

  “He’s not a wimp. He’s really kind.”

  “And a wimp.”

  “You’re being a little nasty again,” I point out, raising my brows.

  He grunts. “How is being honest considered being nasty?”

  I contemplate this. “I don’t think it’s so much that you’re trying to be nasty, but the way you word things can come across as … cold.”

  He raises a brow.

  “It’s true,” I point out. “You don’t know Jacob. So it’s a little far-fetched for you to call him a wimp … don’t you think?”

  He shakes his head. “No, I don’t think that. I call it like it see it, with everyone I meet. I deal with people all the time, and I know the weak ones, the ones who go running when shit gets hard. That man couldn’t defend you if he tried. He’s like all those other men out there, who sit back and do nothing when their women need them.”

  “What about me?” I say, my voice going a little softer. “Call it like you see it…”

  He studies me a moment, and I think he’s not going to answer, but in a throaty voice he says, “You use your sarcasm and quick wit to avoid your feelings. You’re scared, maybe of moving on, maybe of living, maybe of getting hurt. I’m not sure. You’re softer than you come across, but you’re also incredibly strong. Those who have lived through what you have are, by far, some of the strongest people you’ll ever meet. You don’t give yourself enough credit for that, and you should.”

  My heart flutters, and for a moment I just stare at him, holding those intense eyes.

  God.

  He’s doing strange things to my heart, he’s cracking open a wall I’ve built up so high. I look away quickly.

  “Time for sleep,” Ace says, his voice low, but kind. “You look exhausted.”

  “I don’t … I don’t…” I glance down the hall at my room.

  I don’t know if I have it in me to sleep in there. What if someone comes through the window while Ace is sleeping out here … or …

  “Ace?”

  He glances at me, midway through reaching for a pillow. “Yeah?”

  “Can we go and sleep at your place?”

  He studies me, and for a second he looks horrified at the thought. Like it terrifies him to no end. I’m already opening my mouth to tell him not to worry when he throws out a gruff, “Yeah.”

  Thank God.

  Oh. Thank. God.

  FOURTEEN

  I wake up, my back on what is probably the comfiest couch I’ve ever slept on. I blink my eyes open, and it takes a moment to remember where I am. Ace’s apartment. I swing my eyes around the room, getting the blurriness from them, and take in the space. Sleek, modern, and clean. Ace has good taste. Everything is either black, gray, or red. His furniture is masculine.

  The whole apartment is masculine.

  My eyes move to the kitchen, which is in the exact same place as mine. The apartments are laid out identically. Ace is standing at the counter, tapping away at his open laptop. He hasn’t realized I’m awake. My cheeks flush. I barely know him, and here I am sleeping on his couch. Did I snore? God, did I lay there with my mouth wide open. Worse, did I drool?

  Oh god, what if I drooled?

  And he saw.

  I raise a hand and run it through my messy hair, catching his attention. His eyes flick to me, and something twists inside my chest. It isn’t an unpleasant feeling¸ in fact, it’s a feeling I’m not overly familiar with. It feels warm, safe even. I squash it back down and mumble a sleepy, “Hi.”

  He nods. “Morning.”

  “What time is it?”

  “Eight.”

  I thought I might have slept longer than that, but I’m glad I didn’t. I sit up, adjusting my clothes and making sure they’re all in the right place, before sliding off the couch. I fold the blanket and place it on the end, and then stack the pillows on top before walking towards the counter. Ace slides a coffee towards me without looking up.

  My heart warms.

  He made me coffee.

  “Thank you,” I say, taking it in my hands.

  “I’m going to take a few things from your apartment into the station today, check to see if I can get any fingerprints, anything like that. The locks have arrived. I’ll put them on before lunch and you should be safe to go home then.”

  I swallow.

  Even though he says that, the idea of going home terrifies me. That whole apartment feels unsafe now.

  “I’m going to run a few more checks, see what I can figure out. I’d like you to stay here, at least until I change the locks. Can you study here?”

  He wants me to stay … here? At his house?

  “Ah, yeah, I can grab my laptop and study from here. I have to work tonight, is that going to be a problem?”

  He shakes his head. “I’ll drop you off, so I know you get there safe. Pick you back up when you’re done.”

  “Is it normal for, ah, detectives to do all of that?”

  He finally looks back up at me. “I’m not your detective when I’m here, Hartley. I’m your neighbor. And yes, it is normal.”

  Right.

  Still, I have never heard of any police officer or detective going to such extremes to help someone. Usually they give the job of watching a person in danger to one of the rookies, and go about their business. It warms my heart that Ace is wanting to help me out, on his own personal watch. That means a lot to me. I should probably allow Jacob to do it, but I’m still not ready to let him do that yet, still not ready for that kind of change in our relationship. Besides, Ace is a cop … it makes more sense.

  “Okay.” I nod in agreement. “Whatever is easiest.”

  “Hopefully I’ll get some sort of lead in the next few days, to try to figure out what it is we’re working with here.”

  My phone rings, and I glance around, wondering where it is. Ace had it last night, and obviously brought it over here. He glances down, and I see it’s sitting beside his laptop. Making a cranky face, he picks it up and answers it.

  He answers my phone.

  My mouth drops open when he mutters a grumbled, “Jacob.”

  Oh.

  Boy.

  “She’s at my house, under my protection at this stage. Until I can clear you, I’ll need you to keep your distance.”

  My heart slams against my ribcage, because I know he’s already cleared Jacob. I know he has, because he told me. So why is he telling him that he hasn’t?

  “She’s fine. She had a scare last night.”

  Ace looks up to the ceiling.

  Impatient.

  “Five minutes.”

  He hangs up and slams the phone down, focusing back on the laptop.

  “Uh,” I begin. “What was that?”

  “He’ll be here soon. I told him he can have five minutes.”

  “You answered my phone.”

  He looks up. “So?”

  “So … it’s my phone.”

  “Yeah, and you’re under my care right now.”

  “Actually, I’m not—”

  He shoots me a look that has me backing down right away. “You’re being harassed, you’re my neighbor, you stayed at my house, and I’m investigating your case. Right now, you’re my business. I’d rather you didn’t get murdered right next door to me. So stop arguing with me and do as you’re told.”

  Oh.

  My.

  God.

  “Ace,” I growl. “Jacob is my business, and that is my phone.”

  He ignores me.

  “You have no right to speak to someone who is important to me like that.”

  He keeps ignoring me.

  “I’m speaking to you!” I snap.

  He glances at me again. “I’
m keeping you safe, Hartley.”

  “No,” I growl, frustrated. “You’re acting like a jealous, overprotective boyfriend right now. That isn’t protection. You could have spoken kindly to him, or let me answer the phone with you nearby. Instead you took the jerk route…”

  He makes an angry sound in his throat. “Be careful.”

  I shake my head. “You’re out of line.”

  He narrows his eyes and we glare at each other for what feels like a solid minute, neither of us breaking. I’m angry, and I have the right to be. A knock at the door distracts me from wanting to throttle Ace, and I walk over to it, swinging it open to see Jacob standing outside. The second he sees me, he steps forward and wraps me in a giant hug. “Are you okay?”

  I let my arms fall around his waist, and I glance over at Ace, who is glaring at us, mostly me.

  “I’m okay. I just had a bit of a long night.”

  Jacob pulls back and looks down at me, and I adjust the casual white halter dress I’m wearing to make sure it hasn’t ridden up. “You look exhausted. What happened?”

  “That’s police business,” Ace says from his corner in the kitchen, not saying hello or even trying to use manners.

  Jacob scowls at him, before looking back down at me. “Can you at least tell me if you’re safe?”

  “I’m … safe as I can be,” I answer.

  “I don’t like this, Hartley. I don’t like being kept in the dark about your safety.”

  Okay.

  This is a little intense, considering the man and I barely know each other. I do feel a little guilty though. I haven’t spent a good deal of time with Jacob, and I haven’t actually thought a great deal about him when we aren’t together. I know, deep down in my heart, that my emotions aren’t truly there for him. Granted, I’m hardly making a big effort, but when I’m with Ace, I feel it, right down to my toes. I don’t feel that with Jacob. Will that come? Is it just because I’m not getting enough time to truly know him?

  I’m not sure. It’s a little confusing.

  “Not your concern, I’ve got her covered,” Ace throws in again before I even get the chance to answer Jacob.