Things We Never Said (Hart's Boardwalk 3)

Cute.

Michael didn’t think so. He turned to stare coolly up at the guy. Then he did the unthinkable and unclipped his badge from his belt and held it up. “Move. Along.”

The guy scurried.

Actually scurried.

Amusement I didn’t want to feel pushed at the corners of my mouth. “You didn’t just flash your badge at that guy.”

Michael recognized the laughter in my eyes and grinned. “I’ll do what I must.”

Kell appeared beside Michael. “Detective Sullivan … you’re supposed to move along every time the bell rings.”

“I know how it works.”

“Then why are you hogging Ms. McGuire? Do I need to ask the sheriff to intervene?”

Michael glanced around the room and found Jeff at the table behind us. “Jeff, it going to piss you off if I don’t move from this seat?”

The room grew quiet as Jeff looked over, his gaze dancing between us, and if I wasn’t mistaken, he found this funny! “Make you a deal—you let me switch seats with you at the next bell, I’ll give you that seat back when the bell rings again, and I won’t make you move.”

Michael’s shoulders tensed.

Jeff grinned. “I’d say that’s a fair deal.”

“But Sheriff,” Kell whined, “that’s not how this works.”

“Well, Sullivan?” Jeff ignored the councilman.

My cheeks grew hotter as everyone turned to stare at me in curiosity as these two so-called professional cops (professional assholes more like it!) bartered over time with me.

“Let me make the decision easier.” I pushed away from the table, not sure who I wanted to smack more. Snatching up my purse, I whirled and strode out, ignoring Kell’s protests.

“Dahlia!” Michael called after me, but I pushed open the conference room doors and marched out of there as fast as my high heels would let me.

I was hurrying across the shiny tiled floor of the main reception when I was abruptly whirled around and hauled up against Michael’s hard body. He gripped both my arms; I pushed against him.

“Let me go.”

His expression was equal parts indignation and concern. “Dahlia, stop.”

“No. You stop,” I hissed, not wanting to make a scene. “Were you trying to humiliate me in there?”

His jaw clenched. “You know I wasn’t.”

“No.” I jerked away with all my strength and stumbled out of his grasp. “You were just metaphorically peeing around me.”

Jeff appeared beside us, the crest of his cheeks flushed. “Dahlia, are you okay?”

“I’m mad at you too,” I announced.

He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “I’m sorry, we didn’t—”

“Didn’t what? Mean to act like Neanderthal teenagers?” I scowled between them as both their faces darkened at my insult. “You’re the sheriff, and you’re a detective. And I’m a person. You are not two dogs fighting over a chew toy.”

“Dahlia, you know that’s not fair,” Michael huffed.

“You know what’s not fair? Being gossip fodder for this town. What did you two think would happen in there?” I gestured toward the room. “You think it’s a joke? Michael maybe has an excuse, but Jeff, you’ve lived here long enough to know what happens when something like this gets out. Especially when a jealous Dana Kellerman is in the room. All of a sudden I’m the tramp who’s stringing along the sheriff and his new detective.”