Curvy Valentine Match

Less than nothing, in fact.

I sent what the florist had assured me was the classiest bouquet of red roses along with gourmet dark chocolates filled with rum. Mara hadn’t even sent an obligatory text of gratitude.

She hadn’t sent so much as an eyeroll emoji when I had a few of the boys from the soccer team deliver oversized conversation hearts to Bread Box, during the busiest hour of the day. I got nothing. After her homemade deep dish pizza, served between two rounds of incredible lovemaking, a night I was sure would be a turning point for us, and she gave me nothing.

Zip.

Zilch.

Nada.

Mara was determined to ignore the heat that still burned between us, the chemistry that still sparked like a live wire whenever we were together, and the way her gaze sought me out, the same way mine did. Almost as if we could sense one another before we appeared. It was the kind of connection people searched a lifetime to find, and we were lucky enough to find it before we were mature enough to handle it. But now, life or fate or whatever had given us a second chance, and she wanted to ignore it. To just fucking ignore it as if it was just a pesky fly at a barbecue.

I let her ignore it, let her sort out her feelings for a day or two, knowing that it would take some time for her to wrap her pretty little head around the fact that we were meant to be together. But now, dammit, I was tired of waiting.

I stood and marched out of my office. “I’m going to get coffee,” I growled at my assistant, not stopping to hear anything that might delay my inevitable confrontation with Mara. I would bring her one of those frothy cold coffee drinks to make up for it.

The day was unusually warm for February, the sun shining bright on my forehead as I took long, determined steps toward the best bakery in town. “Xander, wait up!”

Tara’s voice stopped my forward progress and I turned to her with a glare. “What is it?”

Tara frowned. “Something wrong, Boss?” I ignored the knowing smirk on her face, wondering if she actually knew anything, or simply wanted to goad me into an admission.

“No. What’s up?”

“I just got back from a call on one of those rental units on Bonnet Lane. The owner said the property was trashed. It wasn’t,” she clarified with a roll of her eyes, “but there were definite signs of squatters. Beer and soda cans lined the wall, fast food bags, pizza boxes and a few homemade bongs. Plus a few carpet stains, discarded sheets and sleeping bags. “I’m headed to Pilgrim Pizza to see if I can get details on who ordered the pizza to that neighborhood.”

I nodded, proud of Tara for living up to my expectations of her as a detective. “What makes you think it was recent?”

Tara sighed, but flashed a proud smile because she had clearly been expecting the question. “The property was shown to potential renters last month and it was freshly cleaned back then.”

I nodded. “Good job. Let me know what you find out.”

“Will do,” she said with a curt salute. “Want to talk about what’s made you such a grumpy bear?” I attempted to level my newest detective with a glare, but she tossed her head back and laughed at the effort. “Guess not. See you, later.”

“Not too soon, I hope,” I shot back in her direction, which earned me another laugh. Tara made her way back to the patrol car and I continued on my path to the Bread Box, offering up brief smiles as I passed the still operating book store, the craft shop owned by elderly twins, a small burger stand, and one of three beauty shops that populated Tulip’s Main Street. I would always be friendly with folks, but today I was in too big a hurry to stop for a polite, but lengthy chat.

I turned the corner and smiled as Bread Box came into view. One block away, approximately thirty seconds, until I could look into Mara’s brown eyes and ask her why she was avoiding me.

“Xander,” Oliver called out, twice, when I tried to ignore him. “Just the man I’m looking for.”

Great. I stopped, again, and turned to my friend with a semi-professional smile. “Yeah, need some tips on satisfying your woman?”

Oliver flipped me off and rolled his eyes. “You wish. Besides, I’m not the one having woman trouble,” he said vaguely and I kept the next smartass comment to myself. “Anyway this is actual police business.”

I stood a little taller as the smile slowly faded. “What’s wrong?”

“One of my credit cards is missing. It’s not one that I use often, almost never in fact. I keep it in the back of my wallet because I so rarely use it, and I have a feeling I’ll be wearing it out to pay for the wedding because Eva-,”