Playing Dead by Allison Brennan

to wait until tomorrow to talk to him. Dave might know something . . . if she could get him alone. “Who’s all here?”
    “The usual—Manny and Jill, Eric, Phil.”
    Claire tried to rid her body of the day’s tension. She rolled her shoulders, said hi to everyone, grabbed a beer from an ice bucket. These were her friends, she reminded herself. Why did she feel so uncomfortable, like an outsider? She always tried, but never felt like she quite fit in anywhere.
    She pushed aside her father’s haunted expression.
    Her lies to Oliver Maddox’s worried girlfriend.
    Her growing confusion over her father’s guilt.
    A timer went off, and Phil jumped up. “Hey, Claire, have a second to help?”
    “Sure.”
    She followed Phil into the kitchen. He popped open the oven and took out a delicious-smelling Mexican dip, then popped in garlic bread and adjusted the temperature.
    Phil tossed her a bag of tortilla chips. “Go find a bowl.”
    Also a cop, Phil was a few years older than Dave and his friends, but he was a fixture in the group. Especially after he saved Dave’s life during a domestic disturbance call the week before Claire graduated from high school. If Phil hadn’t intervened at the right moment, Dave could have been dead. The bullet ended up grazing his arm, but it was only inches from his heart. Bill called Phil his adopted son.
    Claire rummaged around the cabinets. Dave was not organized.
    “Dave says it’s getting serious with your new boyfriend.”
    “Dave has a big mouth.” She found a big bowl and dumped the chips into it.
    “He’s just concerned because you haven’t introduced him. You usually aren’t so secretive.”
    Eric came in as Phil spoke. Eric was Dave’s age and they’d been close ever since Eric joined the force more than ten years ago. “Yeah, and I think this is a record. Dave said you’ve been seeing him for a couple months. Long time for you.”
    She rolled her eyes, but she was getting irritated at the interrogation from the cops. Dave, okay, he was practically her brother. But Phil and Eric?
    “Okay, a week from Friday, the Kings are playing the Lakers in L.A., we’ll all meet at my place and I’ll invite Mitch, okay?”
    Dave walked in. “Is this the Mitch Bianchi you have yet to introduce to Dad and me?”
    “Oh, stop,” she said. “I didn’t think you cared.”
    Dave squeezed the back of her neck. “I’ll always care about who you’re dating.”
    Claire felt claustrophobic with Dave’s overprotective, brotherly attitude, and Phil and Eric’s intrusiveness. “Get over it,” she said, trying to sound light, but her tone was flat.
    Dave dropped his hand and grabbed the plate of chicken off the counter. “Game’s started, we’re down six already.”
    “Dave, I’m sorry, I—” Claire frowned as he walked out. “I didn’t mean it the way it sounded,” she ended lamely.
    “He knows,” Eric said, rubbing her shoulder. “I’ll take this tray—anything else?” he asked Phil.
    “The bread has a few minutes. I’ll wait for it.” Eric left, and Phil took up rubbing her shoulder where Eric had left off. “Dave just worries about you. He wants you to be happy. So is it serious? You and this Mitch Bianchi?”
    She shrugged. “The usual.” That was such a lie, she realized as she said it.
    “So it is,” Phil stated.
    “What? Please. I don’t have time for serious relationships. Worry about Dave. He’s a lot older than me, he should be thinking of settling down.”
    Her cell phone rang. She glanced at the number. Mitch.
    “Go ahead,” Phil said. “I’ll take care of this. Grab the bread when the timer buzzes.” He took the bowl of potato salad from her hand and left the kitchen.
    “Hi,” she answered, feeling giddy when she heard his voice.
    “Change of plans?”
    “Yeah. I need to make an appearance at this thing. I hope it’s okay that I meet you at the Fox & Goose.”
    “I’ll be miserable the entire hour you’re late, but I’ll manage as