“There are no regulations against a detective having a personal life,” Ford bit out.
“Yet there are against fraternization with undesirables.”
“Gina is a small business owner and respected member of the community.”
“And…” The captain paused dramatically. “A Luca.”
If he hadn’t made the same argument to himself not a week ago, he would have been more pissed. As it was, he had to go with the facts. “There is nothing in regulation three hundred forty point six that forbids a personal relationship with a citizen in good standing, no matter their last name.”
“True, but if she crosses even one tiny line, that’s going to reflect poorly on you, which will reflect poorly on the task force, which will reflect poorly on me, and then you and I are going to have a real problem. Do I make myself clear, detective?”
“Crystal,” Ford said, feeling as if he was eating a few shards of it. This whole meeting was bullshit. He was a good detective. He’d never let personal feelings interfere with a case. Ever.
“Good, because the only thing keeping me from busting you back down to the street is the fact that you’re a good detective who always follows the rules. Don’t make me regret my generosity.” The captain turned his attention back to the report and uncapped his red pen. “Now get out of here until Monday. I suggest you spend the time between now and then figuring out how to show Rodriguez that you’re not a hotheaded Hartigan like your brothers.”
“Rodriguez?”
The captain let out a put-upon sigh. “Evelyn Rodriguez is coming in from the one-four to take over the task force in preparation for the Espositos’ heroin shipment this Friday.”
Now that was the first bit of good news he’d heard since he walked into the squad room. Rodriguez had a reputation as someone who got results the right way.
“Gallo and Ruggiero?” he asked.
“Moving to white collar.” The captain started circling and crossing out again. “Now get out of here.”
Ford did, driving not to his house but back to Gina’s. He parked in the driveway of her Victorian and looked up at the behemoth. Most of the inside work that needed to be done was near completion, and now Juan’s crew was erecting the scaffolding that would be used to repair and paint the outside. The fact that he even knew that should weird him out. This wasn’t his house. He didn’t live here.
No, Hartigan, you just spend almost every night here and act as a handyman for free.
The voice in the back of his head wasn’t wrong. He hadn’t been back to his house for a week now. He had clothes hanging in the closet and a shaving kit under the sink. He wasn’t sure how that happened. There hadn’t been a plan. There hadn’t been a talk. There hadn’t been a list of house rules written and agreed to. He’d just accidentally moved in. What in the hell was he doing?
“Hey,” Gina called out from an open window in the front room. “You coming in or what?”
Yeah, he realized. He was. And he was staying.
…
Gina shouldn’t have let Lucy do her hair. It looked great—the woman had magic defrizzing fingers—but it was pulled back and twisted into a deceptively casual knot that left her face totally exposed.
Sure, it wasn’t that Ford didn’t know what she looked like, but having her hair back was like giving up a security blanket that she could sort of hide her big honking nose behind.
“We could stay in,” Ford said from his spot by their open bedroom door.
Her hands flew up to her hair. “It looks that bad?”
“No, you look that hot. I don’t think anyone but me should see you in that dress.”
A smile—one of those goofy ones that made her look like a fool falling in love—spread across Gina’s face. She couldn’t help it. Ford may tell everyone that he wasn’t the charming Hartigan, but he was full of shit. The man managed to charm his way into her heart—and panties—every single day. She needed to be careful, she knew that, but she didn’t want to. For once in her life, she was going to take her friends’ advice and believe that she’d get to live the fairy tale she’d never expected—at least for a little while longer.