Page 1 of Win a Date with a Detective

ONE

RACHEL

“You don’t need a criminal studies degree to know who Rachel is bidding on tonight,” my best friend Lenora says as she flips through the pages of the bachelor auction’s program booklet.

“Oh really?” I glance up from reading the profile about my brother, who begrudgingly agreed to be one of the bachelors.

And only because I laid the biggest guilt trip of our lives on him.

“Let me see.” I flip the pages to the one Lenora is on. I skim the text and my jaw falls open. “Well, hello there. I hadn’t planned on bidding on anyone tonight. But how can I resist?”

I stare at the handsome smirk gracing the face of Detective Bronson Hughes of the local police department’s special crimes unit. I’ve watched and listened to enough true-crime shows to know what that means.

This is a man who knows where the bodies—and maybe even hidden treasure—are buried. Or, at least, he’s working on discovering where they are and gathering enough evidence to make sure it holds up in a court of law.

No doubt, Detective Bronson has seen some shit.

And wouldn’t it be fun to ask a question or ten to find out exactly how much he has?

“Look at that jawline,” Lenora says, leaning over my shoulder.

“I’m looking at his qualifications.”

“Of course you are.”

“He works in special crimes.”

“I can read, Rachel.”

“Do you know what that means?”

“That he’s probably very busy?”

“It means he investigates serious crimes.”

“Unlike the crimes you investigate from your couch?”

I give her a look.

She grins.

For the record, there is absolutely nothing wrong with enjoying true crime. Some women unwind with reality television. Others enjoy romance novels. I happen to enjoy documentaries about unsolved murders, suspicious disappearances, and criminals who might have gotten away with their crimes if they hadn’t been stupid enough to Google how to dispose of a body.

It’s educational.

And occasionally horrifying.

But mostly educational.

“I’m just saying,” Lenora continues, “you might want to consider asking him about his hobbies before you start interrogating him about dead people.”

“I’m not going to interrogate him.”

She raises an eyebrow.

“Immediately,” I amend.

“That’s what I thought.”