“I really don’t care.”

“No. I know. It’s just that…” He kicks the metal balcony railing, making it vibrate. “I’m sorry you had to hear that.”

“Me too.”

“I’m not really like that.”

“It doesn’t matter to me what you are or aren’t like.”

I try to go around him, back through the door, but he puts a hand on my arm to stop me, then pulls it at my glare.

“What I’m trying to say is…” He lets out a frustrated sound. “Things’ll be cool now between you and Savannah.”

“Okay.”

“I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

He shrugs a shoulder. “All that happened last summer with me and Savannah. It’s ancient history, you know?”

“Apparently not.”

“It definitely is now. Okay?”

“Sure. Whatever.” What does he expect me to say? What does he want from me? “Can we go back inside?”

He opens the door and holds it for me to pass through first. I look for the orange cat one last time, but he’s gone. I think of Oliver and our understanding. Maybe Leo and I can work out the same kind of unspoken deal for the summer, where we coexist in the same space without getting attached, where we get what we need from each other and then go our separate ways. But as I brush past him, I realize that his confession and apology have made it a little harder to breathe around him. He takes up so much space—both physically and figuratively—that it’s hard to be comfortable around him.

I’m learning that despite appearances there is something more to him than a pretty face and an I-couldn’t-give-a-fuck attitude. He does, actually, give a fuck. More than he’d want known. And if he knew how badly he failed at hiding it sometimes, he’d only respond by doubling his efforts to cover it up. I wonder how many people know that about him, how many look past the clothes, body language, and arrogant facial expressions to see what lies beneath it all. And if they did, would they see what I was beginning to see?

Chapter 6 Leo

I follow Cora back to the conference room past Savannah’s now empty desk. She took off for lunch after I got her calmed down. After I practically begged her to leave Cora alone and took everything she threw at me. I had it coming. I never should’ve touched her, no matter how many times she “accidentally” brushed her tits over my arm or leaned over so I could see down her top. I knew better. But at the time I was just so knocked out that she even wanted me, especially after my girlfriend of six months had dumped me right before summer started.

Thank God Dad wasn’t here to hear Savannah and me go at it. As far as I know he doesn’t have a clue about what happened between us. But Cora does and now it’s stressing me out that she thinks I’m an even bigger douche bag than she originally thought. She wouldn’t look at me out there on the balcony, while I stammered out my lame-assed explanation and apology. I don’t know why I felt like I needed to apologize to Cora. Maybe because Savannah sucked her into our drama just to get back at me and screw me over with Cora before I could even manage to get anything started.

Cora sits in the chair she was in before and starts going through her bag. She’s still not looking at me.

“Are you hungry?” I ask. “There’s a pretty good sandwich place down the street.”

“Nope.” She pulls a sandwich from a brown paper bag, takes a bite, and chews.

“I’ll run down there by myself, then. Want anything?”

“Can you make it quick? I want to finish going over this with you so we can finally get started.”

“Sure.”

She pulls out her phone and jabs in a text as she munches on another bite of sandwich. I’m ignored. I run down to the shop and get back in record time. I’m hardly breathing heavy, thanks to the deep breaths I took before returning to the conference room. She’s on the phone with someone. I slide into my chair and go through the motions of tucking in to my sandwich.

She tilts her head back and laughs. It’s the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen, but inside I’m dying. Who is she talking to? What did they say to her to get her to smile like that? It creases her face and reaches her eyes. For a split second she looks at me with that smile and I pause mid-bite, my mouth hanging open above my sandwich. Then she turns away and mumbles something into the phone. Her low, sexy chuckle at whatever the asshole she’s talking to says in return makes the bite I just took taste like shit and I fight to swallow it.

I toss the sandwich aside and watch as she strolls the edge of the room, twisting a piece of blue hair around her finger as she talks. More throaty laughter. I imagine making her laugh like that as we roll around in bed. She’d be insane between the sheets. I just know it. The thought of her naked with me gives me a boner that could pound rocks. I want her. I want her in a way that I’ve never wanted anything or anyone ever. Before her I thought I knew what it was to get a hard-on for a chick where you just can’t get her out of your head, where all other girls go away for you and it’s just her. That was nothing compared to the way my hands shake and I have to fist them to keep her from seeing. I know where she is in the room at all times, like my body is a big, giant homing beacon set to her frequency. I can feel her and yet I only ever touched her that one time out on the balcony.

She punches the end button on her phone and pockets it.

“Was that your boyfriend?” I ask, trying for casual, but I’m unable to keep the jealousy out of my voice that’s burning a fire through me.

“No.”

Just that one word. No explanation. Was that No, I wasn’t talking to my boyfriend or No, I don’t have a boyfriend to talk to? I can’t tell. Nothing in her answer or her movements gives me a fucking clue which it is as she takes her seat again.

“You listened to the 9-1-1 call,” she prompts me.

“Yeah. Right.” I pull my notebook toward me and try to come up with something to ask her. Something intelligent. But all that comes out is, “What happened next?”

She searches through her stack of folders until she finds the one she wants. “According to the police report, the first detective to respond was Paul Winfro. He assessed the scene and called it in. A supervisor arrived, then crime-scene techs, the coroner, and so on.”

“What time was that?”

“I told you, about six, just after Cassandra would’ve gotten off work. The neighbor and the yoga class?” Her impatience with me kicks up a dozen levels.

“Right.”

“If you’ve got somewhere else you’d rather be, don’t let me stop you from taking off. Your dad gave me the password to the Wi-Fi here and the login and passwords for the websites the agency uses for searches. There’s lots I can do without you if you’re bored.”

“I’m not bored.”

She makes a sound like she doesn’t believe me.

“I’m not,” I insist. “Tell me about what happened next.”

I listen and take notes like I’m in class and there’s going to be a test. I ask good questions. By the time she’s done walking me through it I almost feel as though I know Cassandra. My dad said to start with the victim, but there was no one and nothing in Cassandra’s life that should’ve led to her murder. She was an ordinary eighteen-year-old. Who would want to kill her in the horrible way she died and why? I have to talk to Beau. I feel like I can get something from him that Cora couldn’t.

It’s nearly dark out by the time we’re finished. Dad’s talking to Savannah about tomorrow’s appointments and Cora and I have a solid plan to start working on in the morning. I help her pack her folders and binders into her box. When we’re all done, she puts the lid on and I carry it to the storage cabinet and lock it up. By the time I get back, she’s got her bag on her shoulder.