She expelled a relieved breath, the sound muffled by the garble of walkie-talkies and buzzing doors in the background. “I didn’t know what else to do. I couldn’t reach you and I didn’t want to mess up Delia’s Career Day.”
“And Nick just conveniently offered to show up at her preschool in tactical gear?”
“Not exactly. The gear was my idea. It looks cooler than jeans and a Henley. I thought it might impress Delia’s friends.”
I managed a begrudging thank-you. “You owe me for this,” I added. “Big-time.”
“Why? I was doing you a favor.”
“Volunteering for Career Day or sending Nick in your place?” My brain snagged on that last thought. “Wait … Did Mom put you up to this?”
“No,” Georgia sputtered. “Of course not.”
“She did! I can’t believe you let her talk you into this. God, Georgia. This is so awkward!”
“Only as awkward as you make it.”
“What if I tell Nick I’m planning to murder you?”
“Yeah, that would definitely make things weird. Look, I’ve got to go finish booking Thing One and Thing Two. Call you later.”
“You owe me!” I said again as my sister disconnected. Nick grinned at me through the open door of Delia’s classroom, watching me over the children’s heads, causing a few curious moms to look over their shoulders at me. I was going to make Georgia change so many diapers for this.
“Smooth, huh?” I turned at the raspy voice behind me. The man shook his head as he watched Nick over my shoulder. “He’s got every one of them eating out of the palm of his hand. Even the kids.” The man jiggled a set of keys, or maybe some loose change in his pants pockets, the spread of his open jacket revealing the butt end of a sidearm and the glimmer of a badge. I was still struggling to place him when his blue eyes jumped to mine. “Sorry,” he said, extending a hand. “I should have introduced myself. I’m Joey Balafonte.” At my vacant stare, he jutted his chin toward the classroom. “I’m Nick’s partner.”
“Oh,” I blurted as I rushed to shake his hand.
The end of a toothpick poked from the corner of his smile. He was in plain clothes, like Nick usually wore, but his color palette was noticeably lighter: thick fair hair hinting at gray around his temples, a French-blue shirt, and pale gray slacks. The faint scent of cigarette smoke clung to his tan leather jacket. He was handsome, but not in the same lean and dangerously rugged way as Nick. More like Steven, with his boy-next-door good looks and a slight softening around the middle. He didn’t look like someone who’d been undergoing cancer treatments. “I thought you were on leave,” I said delicately.
“You must be thinking of Charlie. No,” he said, his smile turning down at the edges. “Charlie’s not back to work yet, but we’re all pulling for him. I’m Nick’s new partner. And you must be the infamous Finlay Donovan.” Joey’s astute cop eyes skimmed over me the same way my sister’s often did, like a lint roller picking up the little things others never bothered to notice. He chuckled quietly, sliding the toothpick to the other side of his mouth. “Even if Nick wasn’t staring at me like he’d like to take off my head for speaking to you right now, I’d still be able to pick you out of a crowd. He talks about you all the damn time.”
The class erupted in applause, signaling the end of Nick’s presentation. He glanced our way, a warning to Joey in the sharp edge of his smile. Joey nudged me with his elbow. “See what I mean? He’s worried I’m spilling all his humiliating secrets.”
“What’s he afraid you might say?”
Joey leaned close to my ear as a line of parents funneled out of the room. “That I’m shitty company on a stakeout and he had a lot more fun with you.”
Blood rushed to my cheeks as Delia took Nick’s hand, dragging him toward me through the crowd. When they reached us, she threw her arms around his legs, her whispered “thank you” making my heart flutter.
A loaded silence fell between the two of us as she raced off to collect her backpack from her cubby. This close, he seemed taller than I remembered, thanks to the extra inch or two in his boots and the way my daughter had looked at him just now, elevating him to something more than human.
The dimple in his cheek made a slow appearance, as if he knew. “It’s good to see you, Finlay.”
“You, too.” I hitched my bag higher on my shoulder, trying not to stare at the way his uniform hugged his frame, but I was eye level with his chest. Averting my eyes only managed to land them on one of his equally impressive biceps. And lowering them was … definitely out of the question. I looked up at him through my lashes, my breath catching on the soft curl of his smile. “Thanks for doing this. You really didn’t have to.”