“I agree,” Mya says. “We need to find out more about them and their life.”
“Want to grab something to eat and take it to my place?” I ask her before thinking.
Chapter Twelve
MYA
He just asked me if I wanted to go to his place, and I’m not sure what to say. Part of me wants to say yes, and the other part of me is struggling with, is it smart?
“We don’t have to,” he says quickly, almost sounding disappointed. “We can go back to the precinct if you like.”
“No, we can go to your place, it’s fine. I should be able to connect to the FBI VPN as long as you have WIFI. Do you have WIFI?” I ask him.
He chuckles. “Yes, I have WIFI.”
“Good, then yes, we can get some food and go back to your place,” I tell him, curious about how he lives.
“How does a pizza sound?” he asks.
“Pizza sounds good,” I admit, and my stomach picks that exact moment to growl.
We both laugh, and I say, “Guess I am hungry.”
“What kind of pizza do you want?” he asks me, and I’m sure he’s not going to like what I have to say.
“I’m a pepperoni, bell peppers, pineapple, and jalapeno girl,” I say, waiting for him to chastise me about pineapple on a pizza.
“Okay, got you,” he says instead as we pull up to the local pizza place.
He gets out and goes into the joint as I sit in the car wondering if I’m making a mistake by agreeing to this. Do I want things to happen? Maybe. Am I being foolish to hope he does kiss me tonight? Maybe a little, but I feel like we have been tiptoeing on a tightrope around each other for the last two weeks. My dreams consist of this man every night. I guess I need to know where we stand one way or another.
He comes back into the car carrying two pizza boxes. He hands them both to me, and I hold them until we reach his house. It’s a cute cape-style home.
He takes the pizza boxes from me, and I grab my laptop bag, get out of the car, and follow him up to the front door.
He unlocks it, opens the door, turns on a light, and says, come on in. He walks over to the console table, dropping his keys into the bowl on the table. He leads me through a small, but quaint dining room, and into the kitchen.
It’s a nice size kitchen, set up in a U shape. He places the pizza boxes on the counter and reaches into a cabinet for plates.
“Do you have something to drink?” I ask him.
“There are some beers, cokes, and water in the fridge,” he tells me.
I open the fridge and grab two beers. When I turn around, he is holding our plates in his hands.
“We can go eat in the living room,” he says, a bit shyly now.
“Sure,” I say with a small smile.
I follow him back through the dining room, past the front door, and into the living room. I’m surprised by how clean the place is.
“Do you live with someone?” I ask him as he sets the plates down, and I set the beers next to them.
“No. This is my childhood home. I inherited it after my parents passed away.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. It must be nice to live the rest of your life in a house you grew up in,” I tell him as I take a seat.
“What about your parents? Do they still live where you were raised?” Shane asks.
“They finally retired a few years ago and moved to Florida. I hear from them occasionally when they remember me,” I tell him, taking a bite of my pizza.
“What do you mean?” Shane asks.
“My parents are what you would call workaholics. They both worked twelve-hour days, and I was left to my own devices,” I tell him, taking another bite of pizza.
Shane says, “I'm so sorry.”
I shrug because it was all I ever knew.
“It wasn’t so bad. I learned how to be independent and take care of myself. I never let my grades slip, and I always did what I was supposed to, but the downfall was I could never be a kid. I wasn’t allowed to go to the movies or to the mall with my friends,” I say, shrugging.
“How did you join the FBI?” he asks.
“As soon as I graduated high school, to the dismay of my parents, I joined the Army, and they paid for my college. I knew I wanted to go into law enforcement and became an MP. My plan was to do four years of active duty, get my college degree in criminal justice, and then join the local PD at home, but then I got an invitation to go to Quantico. I decided it wouldn’t hurt to go, so I did, and now here I am.”
“So, your team is…”
