moment, he’d willingly sacrifice his ego and just about anything else on the chance she’d say yes. He didn’t analyze why that was, why she was different. He saved that sort of deep thinking for crime scenes. Passion was supposed to be easier.
She stepped halfway through the door and he realized she really was going to leave without answering him. He wasn’t sure what his next move should be. Walk away? Or continued pursuit?
But she turned then, and looked at him. “I’ll think about it.” Then she shut the door in his face.
He let his forehead drop until it thunked on the wall next to the door. “She’ll think about it, she says.” And then what? he wanted to yell through the door.
She had him literally tied in knots. “Hell, you started it,” he grumbled, then pushed away from the wall. He gave the door a hard stare, but it didn’t open. Nor did he go after her.
Not yet.
He turned and headed down the hall instead, thinking he’d find Mig and Patterson. Immerse himself in a good crime scene. Those he understood.
Women on the other hand…? Maybe murder was easier.
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