“Yes?” she asked.
“I need you to repeat something after me.”
“All right,” she said cautiously.
“I will,” he said slowly.
“I will,” she repeated.
“Never, ever.”
She gave him a suspicious look. “Never, ever.”
“Make Ed.”
“Make Ed.”
“A Tinder profile.” He gave her a firm look just to emphasize his point.
She placed a hand on her hip. “Well, how else are you going to find someone if I don’t help you out? I know you won’t do it yourself.”
“I’ll find them the old-fashioned way, through meeting them face-to-face.”
“Nobody does it like that anymore.”
“Kiesha,” he rumbled.
She threw her hands in the air. “Fine. But if you’re not going to let me help you find a date; will you at least give me her number?”
“Whose number?”
“Georgie’s number.”
“Even if I had her phone number, I wouldn’t give it to you.” That was a total lie. He had her phone number. Like the fool that he was, he’d put it into his phone when they’d been working that case a few months ago and hadn’t removed it.
“You’re lying to me. You totally have it.”
He sighed. “Fine, I have her number. But I’m not giving it to you.”
“Urgh, your insistence on playing by the rules is so annoying sometimes.”
“It kind of comes with the territory of being the sheriff,” he pointed out mildly.
“But you can call her for me, right? I’ll talk to her. You just call her. Then I can ask her for permission for you to give me her number.”
He ran his hand over his face. “You know she’s likely left town, right?”
Kiesha frowned. “What do you mean, left? She wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye. We’re besties.”
“You’re besties? You barely know her.”
“So? Is there a timeframe on how long it takes to be besties with someone? I’m telling you right now, the answer is no. You can know someone all your life and not ever be besties with them. Or you can meet someone straight away and be besties. Understand?”
Not really. But he pretended he did because he actually had to get some work done today.
“All right, I’ll talk to her, though. Understand?”
“Fine. You talk. Such a control-freak,” she muttered.