“You saw him last week,” he said eventually. “He didn’t seem overly fond of police.”

Yet another reason Micah had let the misconception about his job linger.

Tessa frowned. “Well, why’d you leave with him then? He didn’t pound you into oblivion. You didn’t admit to him that you’re an undercover detective. I mean… what did you guys even do?”

Well, Micah had passed out in the man’s car like the light weight he was and then had woken up to crepes – and the vision of Damon in a t-shirt and sweatpants. Then he’d promptly signed his life away.

Okay, so maybe life was a little dramatic – but his free time outside of work was about to be obliterated.

Oh, and Damon had bought him what had to be thousands of dollars’ worth of clothes.

“It’s a long story.”

Tessa opened her mouth – no doubt to protest his vagueness – before spotting something – or rather, someone – behind him that made her abruptly snap her mouth shut.

That was all the warning Micah got before a hand came down on his shoulder. Fighting the urge to shake off the unwelcome touch, Micah glanced up.

Ah, Jensen.

“I’ve always admired the easy camaraderie between you two. After all, solidarity amongst colleagues is vital in our line of work. But do you know what I find even more important?” He paused, like he was actually expecting an answer, and when neither he nor Tessa responded, he sighed. “Punctuality,” he said finally.

Good morning to you, too, fucker.

Jensen continued to stare him down, like he was waiting for Micah to explain why he was late this morning – which was bullshit. He may have been a first-grade detective, but he wasn’t Micah’s boss. Although Jensen was often in charge of divvying up the cases they were assigned, Micah didn’t actually answer to him – only to the captain.

It was clear Jensen wasn’t about to let up, however, so Micah shrugged – it had the bonus purpose of dislodging the man’s hand from his shoulder. “I’ll stay late tonight. It’s not a big deal.”

Jensen pursed his lips, clearly unimpressed, before allowing his eyes to dip down to Micah’s wrinkled shirt and generally unkempt appearance. “Of course, cleanliness is an important aspect of the job as well.”

Okay, that was just rude.

Micah was a plain-clothes detective. He didn’t wear the standard navy uniform of beat cops or the black attire that members of the SWAT team wore. It was basically just expected that he showed up to work somewhat respectably dressed with his badge visible on his person. “Am I in violation of the dress code?” he asked, making sure to keep his tone as innocent as possible. After all, they both knew he wasn’t.

Jensen huffed out his nose. “No,” he admitted. “But it’s still expected that you maintain an aura of professionalism at the station, especially when dealing with clients, and you’re pushing the boundaries.”