He laughed and ripped the can from my hand, and after a shake, more fluffiness was spraying out at my face.
“What the hell? That’s not fair!”
“What can I say? The can hates you,” he boasted proudly as the sounds of an empty can filled the otherwise quiet hall. “Don’t pout. You look amazing.”
I couldn’t help it. I was pouting like a four-year-old and I couldn’t stop even if I wanted to, which I totally didn’t. “I’m covered. You just wasted nearly an entire can of whipped cream on my face, and it’s in my hair!”
A look of shock covered his handsome face. “Oh God no, not the hair!” he smirked, and a small laugh left him when my pout increased. “Come here, beautiful.” Kissing my lips softly through the whipped cream, he licked off what had transferred onto his face and kissed me again. “See? Beautiful and delicious. Really, you should be thanking me right now.”
“Hate is a strong word and it’s coming to mind when I look at you.”
“Aw, I love you too, snookems.”
“I will murder you.”
“I know.” He smiled and let his hands trail down my waist to my barely there sleep shorts. I moaned unattractively when his hand trailed over where I wanted him most. “What if I promised to help clean it off you?”
Yes. Please. “Much less likely to murder you.”
He barked out a laugh that cut off quickly when his cell started blaring the tone he set for anyone at the police department. “Damn it.”
Not happening. I need sexy time with my man while he cleans whip cream off me!
“Ryan,” he answered and gave me an apologetic look a few silent moments later. “Yeah—yeah, I’m on my way.”
“Gotta go?”
“Yeah.” He grimaced and helped me stand up. “I’m sorry, Rach. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Double homicide, looks like it’s gang related.”
“Don’t be sorry, go do what you do best.” He and Mase weren’t even on call for over twenty-four more hours. I wanted to ask why they couldn’t have called someone else, but I kept my mouth shut and smiled through my disappointment. He looked like he was beating himself up enough; he didn’t need me making it worse.
“Thank you.”
He took off for the bedroom, and I walked into the kitchen to wet a paper towel so I could wipe all the gross-ness off my face. By the time I was walking back into the hallway with a wet washcloth to clean anything else that had been sprayed, Kash was jogging back down the hall in a clean shirt while putting his gun in the holster, his badge hanging around his neck.
Grabbing my chin, he pulled me close and kissed me hard. “Be back soon, love you, Rach.”
“Love you too.”
After he was gone, I finished cleaning and called Candice back as I dumped the banana splits Kash had made.
“Did you hurt him?” she asked in way of greeting.
“Ha. No, he got called in.”
“Bummer.”
“Tell me about it, it was just about to get good too. He told me he was going to clean all the whipped cream off me, I was picturing us in the shower . . . yeah, no. Didn’t happen.”
“That sucks. He should have told them to give him half an hour.”
I laughed out loud and hung my head. “I’m just saying, whipped cream wars are not as fun as they portray them in books or movies. They’re usually all sexy and whatnot. Ours? Not so much. I got whipped cream up my nose, I was running away from him and fell over Trip and hit the hardwood really hard. Like, I think my hip and elbow are going to bruise from it because Kash was on top of me when I went down. When I knocked the can out of his hand it somehow hurt me more than anything, my hand is throbbing. Then when I’m about to get one good hit in, nothing comes out of the can! I’m all sticky and gross, it was just one massive fail.”
Candice was laughing so hard she was snorting, and I couldn’t help but laugh with her. “I would have paid to see that!”
“I’m pretty sure I looked like the abominable snowman on crack. You didn’t miss anything too thrilling.”
“Uh-huh, sure sounds like it.”