The lead singer of the band belted out a hearty scream, and I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath before plugging in the laptop and opening a new tab to search for the magical noise canceling head phones.

Once I found Brent, I'd pay rent and then purchase myself a pair of the highest rated ones. I grabbed a ripped sheet of paper from the stack of scrap I kept in the top drawer and scratched out notes on different decibels, looking for a set with the most reduction.

My office door creeped open, and I slid my chair back, bracing for who dared not knock. The music grew louder as it opened wider, and I readied my pen in attack mode.

"Are those jackasses always so loud?" Broadrick asked as he slipped into the room and closed the door, cutting off some of the noise.

"Maybe they're playing a set just for you." I didn't mean to be snarky, but when he was around, I couldn't help myself. "What are you doing here?"

Broadrick smiled and brandished a light bulb from behind his back. "I brought you better light."

Ugh, here he went being helpful. I scowled. "I have light."

Sure, I had to squint to see in it, but I was young and my eyes were fine.

"No, Vonnie. What you have is a failed eye exam waiting to happen." Without asking me if I wanted his assistance, he unscrewed the light bulb in my lamp, letting the room fall into darkness and then screwed in the new one.

"Wow, okay, it is brighter." I didn't want his charity, but as the new bulb lit up the room, meaning I didn't have to hover two inches above my scrap paper, I could admit it was better.

A little.

Like a fraction.

Broadrick smiled, but it only lasted a second before his face tipped back into a frown. "I thought it would be brighter. Mack, this guy I met at the hardware, can order something brighter, I'm sure. He seemed like a helpful guy."

"I don't need the hardware store to order me a special light bulb. I can see fine."

Mostly.

"You are so stubborn," he said, pulling out the chair in front of my desk and taking a seat without being asked to stay.

I rolled my chair back to the desk and pretended I'd been hard at work and not internet shopping. "I am not."

Broadrick laughed, but I ignored him. I'd prove to him I saw fine and was busy. Super busy. Too busy to listen to whatever it was he obviously thought he needed to say.

I printed out fifteen more copies of the missing dog flyer, and Broadrick reached over from his seat to grab the first one out of the printer.

"Nosy much?" I asked, ripping the paper from his fingers.

"If you need help to hang them, I have some free time tomorrow." He grabbed the second paper from the printer, and I let him keep that flyer.

Did I want his help? No. Did I need it? Yes.

"Do you have one of those big staple guns?"

Broadrick grinned like I'd told him he'd won a million dollars. "Yeah."

"Really? You just keep one of those in your military bag and carry it wherever you go?" He didn't have a damn industrial stapler, and we both knew it.

"No, but I have directions to the hardware store and a credit card."

I huffed. "I can buy one too." In reality, I couldn't. I needed every penny for rent, but Broadrick didn't need those facts. I'd ask Katy if her friend Riley had one. She was always borrowing things from him.

Katy's friends were my friends. Right? It was BFF code.

"It's a little cold out at night for a dog of this breed to be outside. Don't you think?" He placed the flyer back on the printer tray.

I opened my mouth in shock. "Are you suggesting that Brent is going to freeze to death if I don't find him tonight?"

Sure, I'd had the same thought, but I didn't vocalize it. You never vocalized the horrible truths.

Broadrick raised his eyebrow. And why the fuck did I still find that sexy? I'd done so well not noticing his thick muscles or the way the left side of his lip tipped up in amusement, but he just had to do the eyebrow thing. Jerk face.

"I'm doing nothing of the sort, but hopefully he'll get cold and return home. What's in the box?" he asked, changing the subject with no tact whatsoever.

"What box?" I feigned oblivion.

"The one you're trying to hide under your desk while using it as a footrest."

"My feet get tired." I leaned back, pretending like having my feet up on the giant box was comfortable.

"What's in it?" he asked, clearly not buying my act.

"That's private business between me and the box." No way in hell would I admit I didn't know.

Broadrick grinned, his stupid white teeth on display, and I stared at the way his face lifted when he was happy. At one point in our relationship, I'd been the one to make him smile, and my stomach somersaulted at doing it again.

Stupid stomach.

His phone rang, and we both stared at his pants pocket, where the phone peeked out from the corner. I did my best not to let my gaze linger at an area an inch or two to the left. Definitely not going to remember anything to do with his cock or how well he knew how to use it.

"I'll be right back," he said, rising from the chair while taking the phone from his pocket and leaving my office door open in his exit. A guitar solo kicked into high gear and I groaned.

I contemplated getting up to close it but wasn't sure how I'd ever get my feet back on the box in the right position. My left foot went numb and I flex it, moving my toes.

A knock lifted my gaze from my errant foot as Detective Anderson peeked into my office. His eyes narrowed as he stared at me while I massaged my ankle.

"What's up, Dman?"

Anderson shook his head in dismay and approached my desk with his hands on his belt. "Vonnie Vines, you are under arrest for evidence tampering."

Oh shit.