He gives me a pointed look. “Your favors are dangerous, King.”
I throw my head back and laugh because it’s true. All of Viola’s and my rekindling started with a single favor—a lunch favor, actually.
“You’re being weird,” he says.
“If you wear your cop uniform, I might be able to get her to install the software on all of the computers I had delivered today for free.”
Now he’s the one laughing. “I’m not going to be your stripper!”
“Why not? I’m sure she’ll keep her hands to herself.” I smirk because we both know that’s a lie. He gives me a look.
“It will be good for you. I don’t know what she likes to eat, but I’m sure Viola knows. Please?”
“Maybe,” he says, and I feel pretty good about my open attempt to play matchmaker.
In the morning, I work out, then go straight to the office and
