This is a short chapter before we get into the case itself. Hopefully the next few chapters will be up much more quickly.

Chapter Six

The rain had started in earnest while they had been in the office. As they made their way towards the car it began to fall harder, the sky darkening with each heavy roll of thunder.

Ignoring the trickles of wetness falling beneath his collar, running down his back, Boyd opened the door, making sure she was safely inside before he walked around to the drivers side and climbed in.

"So do you want to stop somewhere and eat or grab take out?" Boyd asked, starting the car and turning up the heat in a weak attempt to dry off.

Grace turned, casting her eyes over the dark damp patches of his suit and his hair sticking to his neck. "You're thoroughly soaked."

"Shivering."

"You need to get out of those clothes."

"Really, Grace? Was that an offer to help?"

She rolled her eyes and threw her hands in the air, fleetingly wondering what he would do if she made good on his suggestion. "Look if you don't mind omelette, I can cook."

"I may feel inclined to watch the football."

"I may be inclined to pilfer your wine collection."

"And you doubted I had a social life," he commented dryly

"Social life implies sociability, and we both know you don't possess that," she grinned as he pulled out of the yard. "Besides watching football and eating take out is hardly a social life."

"At least I leave the office occasionally now."

"Well it's a start, but I always had you pegged as growing old disgracefully."

"If wishing made it so, Gracie." He gave her what he considered his most disarming smile and returned to concentrating on the road before she could retort with a pet name of her own.

They had no sooner walked into his apartment when his phone rang. Shrugging out of his wet coat, he lifted the phone to his ear. "Hey. Yeah, just got in. Yeah. Hang on." He turned to Grace. "I'm going to take this in the bedroom."

She knew without asking that Sarah was on the phone. It was clear that he didn't want her to hear him whisper sweet nothings in the ear of his long distance girlfriend, although she didn't seriously imagine him whispering, more likely he was talking shop, even so she didn't like the idea. Wandering into the spare room, she began to change into something more comfortable, kicking her shoes into the corner of the room and pulling on a fitted T-shirt in place of her sweater, her mind wandering to the conversation carrying on next door, the irrational hint of jealousy sparking.

"So were you serious about cooking?" Boyd asked, folding his arms across his chest and watching her from the doorway.

"Boyd!"

"The door was open."

Living alone, as she did, it hadn't occurred to her to close it. "You were on the phone."

"Yeah. Sorry about that. So, red or white?"

Grace raised one eyebrow.

"Wine?"

"You really need to ask?"

He gave her a rare smile. "I wasn't sure what one drinks with omelette."

"Depending what's in your freezer I might be able to do better than that."

"I can go out and grab us something."

"Just get me the wine and lead me to the kitchen," Grace said, pulling a fresh cardigan around her. "You said something about a football game."

"You like football?"

"No. But you do and I'm feeling kind."

Boyd located the corkscrew and set about pouring two glasses. "What's the catch?"

Grace smiled back at him. "No catch." Singing to herself, she began to make dinner, rummaging around in his freezer and wondering when exactly it had become so easy to wind him up.