One Day Fiance
He sounds like he’s still not sure what the hell’s going on. Join the club, man! But the important thing to remember is that we’re safe now because I saved us. But does either of them thank me? Of course not. They’re going on with their conversation like I’m not sitting in the back seat.
“I got picked up by a man, a police officer. He said my fingerprints were on a painting, a fake one. He was going to charge me with grand theft unless I agreed to help them.” He shakes his head. “I didn’t want to, but I had to . . . for my wife and kids. My daughter is pregnant, and Manuel is still young. He needs me.”
“Aw, congratulations, Abuelo!” I interject, patting JP’s shoulder gently. He jumps like I scared him for some reason. Meanwhile, Connor glares at me like what JP said isn’t important, but I disagree. Family is very important.
“Did you tell this police officer about me?” he asks JP in a hard tone.
I can tell this answer is important. JP can too. There is definitely a right answer and a wrong one. “No, I swear it!” he promises. I’m no expert, but I believe him. Connor grunts, so I think he does too. Either that or he’s the one making murder-y plans now. “Just the boss. Though I guess that won’t matter now, since he’s dead.”
The words hit me by surprise, and my heart stutters in my chest. “Did I kill him? Oh, my God, did I kill him?”
I’m suddenly not proud at all, I’m freaking out, my eyes wide as I beg Connor to tell me I didn’t murder someone. A bad guy with a gun, so I’ll probably get off on a self-defense rap, but still . . . I don’t even have plants because it makes me feel guilty when I forget to water them and they die in my windowsill. I love Nut and Juice because they will never let me forget or ignore them.
I will definitely have immense guilt if I killed a man by hitting him with an old statue of some curvy woman. Reminded of it, I look at the statue in the seat beside me and scoot another inch away from it like it might fly through the air on its own and knock me upside the head.
“No . . . you didn’t kill him. I don’t think.” Connor shrugs like it's no big deal either way. “He was breathing when we left, and Hunter will keep him alive. Probably.”
“Probably?” I repeat vacantly.
Connor meets my eyes in the rearview mirror again. “If anyone dies, I’d rather it be them than you.”
Can talking about death and murder be romantic? Apparently so, because I’m melting back here. “Aww, that’s so sweet.”
“Perra loca,” JP whispers.
“Watch it,” Connor warns JP, though I don’t know what he said since the only Spanish I speak is to order tacos and nachos. JP holds his hands up in apology. “The police officer . . . what’s the name?”
“Carter,” JP says immediately. “Jax Carter.”
I gasp, and Connor slams a fist to the steering wheel again. “Of fucking course!”
“Have I mentioned that I hate that guy?” I growl through clenched teeth. Seriously? “He’s such a Paul Blart shart.”
“Shart?” JP asks, and I can’t help it, I smirk. I don’t know Spanish, and he doesn’t know Poppyish.
“Shit plus fart . . . shart.”
JP snorts as he covers his mouth with a hand, but he nods his agreement with me.
That particular bridge crossed, I look back to Connor. I know more than he realizes now, but I can’t tell him that until we’re alone. “What are we going to do? We need a plan.”
Connor keeps his eyes on the road, driving in a roundabout, meandering course to keep us safe, but we’re generally heading back to the house. “I’m thinking.”
“While you’re thinking, can we go home? I need to let Nut and Juice out.”
He doesn’t say anything, but it means something to me that Connor speeds up. He’s probably worried about my puppers too.
JP turns to looks at me with a furrowed brow, his brain working overtime behind his brown eyes. “Uhm, English is not my first language. Not even my second. But did you say ‘nut juice’? That means uhm . . . the kids call . . .”
I laugh at his stilted question. Some people just don’t get me. “Yeah, they’re my two Pomeranians. Named after exactly what you think. It was funny at the time. There might’ve been a bottle of wine involved. And since I’d drunk-shopped for specially engraved name tags, it stuck.”
JP looks at Connor, even more confused after my perfectly reasonable explanation. “This is your woman?” He mutters something in Spanish that has Connor clenching his jaw, and JP sighs.