The Price We Pay by Alora Kate Page B

sure I thank her,” I said shoving a large forkful into my mouth.
    “She passed away a few years ago, but I’m sure she’s floating around here somewhere.”
    “I’m sorry.”
    He grinned. “It’s been awhile, but I swear she haunts me.” I got the feeling he was close with his mom.
    “Creepy,” I muttered before taking another forkful.
    “Doesn’t bother me.”
    I nodded and we finished eating while watching some movie that involved a lot of car racing.
    It was weird.
    Totally awkward.
    Totally unprofessional, but did I care? Hell no. It was Pacer fucking Daniels!
    I was in his house, eating food and drinking beer. It was unreal. A highlight in my life for sure. It kind of felt like a date even though I wasn’t invited. He didn’t even know my name.
    “Miranda’s not my girlfriend.”
    But that doesn’t bother him, I guess.
    “Shit,” I said. I set my empty plate down and grabbed my beer. I relaxed back in the chair and crossed my legs. His eyes may have just checked out my legs. I was wearing a pair of short cut-off jean shorts. The idea of his eyes on my legs had my girl parts on overdrive.
    “I made the mistake of fucking her a few months back. It was just a one-time thing. I was very clear about that but she had other ideas.”
    “Clingy?”
    “Worse. Total fucking stalker,” he said sarcastically while glancing at my camera.
    I tried to plead my case. “She seemed normal. Dressed nicely. Knew your schedule, address, all that shit.”
    “Stalker.”
    “Or a girlfriend who was really into her man.”
    He grabbed his beer, realized it was empty, and then grabbed mine from me, which was also empty. He grabbed our plates and went to the kitchen.
    He cooked. I should clean up. It was the least I could do.
    I got up from the chair, went around the corner, and ran right into him. My hands gripped his sides. He had a beer in each hand held out to the side and I refused to move my hands. His skin was warm to the touch and there was barely any space between us. Memorized by those eyes, I was already panting at the mere thought of him kissing me.
    His phone rang, some outrageous heavy metal song that I didn’t care for, and he started to move. My hands slowly slid away from his skin, which was pure torture. I was slightly embarrassed and needed to collect myself, and my dirty little thoughts. I grabbed one of the beers from him while he answered his phone and I went back to the living room.
    I slouched down in the chair and then my phone rang. It was my brother, Jaxon. I hadn’t heard from him in six months.
    “It’s about time,” I answered.
    “I need a favor.”
    I sat up in the chair. “A favor? I haven’t heard from you in six months.”
    “You know I’m working a case.”
    “I’m your sister!”
    Jaxon and I grew up in the same foster home since he was twelve and I was ten. Technically, we weren’t related but we had an instant connection, and he’s always been my older brother. My pain in the ass older brother.
    “And that’s why I need a favor.”
    “I’m busy,” I shot back while watching Pacer sit back on the couch, turning the TV down. How sweet was that? Very sweet.
    “Doing what?” he asked.
    “I’m masturbating.”
    Pacer spit beer everywhere and I couldn’t help but laugh at him. Jaxon didn’t find it amusing though and continued to bother me.
    “I need you to go shopping for some woman shit. I’ll send a list via text and where to meet me when you’ve got them.”
    I watched Pacer clean himself up and wished I were the one licking the beer off his arm.
    “You have a girl now?” I asked Jaxon trying to distract myself. He’s not much of a dater, but neither am I.
    “I guess you could say that.”
    “It has to be done tonight?” I whined not wanting to leave yet.
    He grunted, “Yeah.”
    “Fine, but you owe me.”
    “You owe me more,” he shot back.
    I did owe him. A lot. He’s bailed me out of some shit, and when I say shit, I mean jail. It wasn’t my