Chapter Seven
B irch slapped at his alarm clock, knocking it off his bedside table when its wail pierced through his hot and heavy dream. Disoriented, he yanked at the power cord and dragged it close so he could put an end to the noise. His mind took a moment to move from fantasy to reality while his body held fast to the thought of being buried balls-deep in Jocelyn.
“I’ve got pancakes going,” Grey called through the door. “Get your ass in gear before they get soggy.”
Dragging himself to the shower, he stepped under the cold spray in hopes it would take care of his morning wood. But given the blue balls he’d walked in the door with a few hours ago, the cool water did little more than make his fast jerk-off session mildly uncomfortable.
Grey was seated at the table by the time he made it downstairs, heaps of pancakes stacked on an old floral platter they’d had as long as he remembered. Digging into the pile, he slathered them with butter and syrup, looking up only when he felt his brother’s eyes on him. “What?”
“Nothing.” Grey grinned. “You got in late last night.”
It would have been a lot later if he let his dick make the decision at Jocelyn’s hotel room door. But when her offer to come in was made, his damn brain had stepped in and backed him out.
Logically, he knew it was wise. He liked this woman. Liked her a lot. He wanted more quiet talks under the stars. More held hands on the sidewalk. More of the anticipation he felt every time he thought of her.
What he didn’t want was to make her think sex was the be-all, end-all for him. So he left her at her door with nothing more than a promise to call.
Grey continued to watch him, almost giddy in his seat.
“Holy hell, Grey. What is it?”
“Where were you last night?” his brother asked with a Cheshire smile.
“Out.”
Grey poured another dollop of syrup on his pancakes. “Yeah? Just out wherever by yourself, eh?”
Giving him a flat stare, he sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. “Out at the movies on a date. Happy?”
“Hell yes I am,” Grey stated, digging back into his meal. “She hot?” Receiving a simple lift of a brow, he pushed on. “You gonna bring her by soon? I knew there was something up with you. How did you two hook up?”
Clearing the plates, he scraped them into the trash. “It was just a date, Grey.”
“Yeah. Just a date for a guy who doesn’t date.”
Grey was smart enough at an early age to know why Birch operated the way he did. At first, it manifested in mumbled apologies at midnight after yet another unsuccessful sleepover at a friend’s place. As he got older, Grey openly confronted him about his one-night stand policy, insisting Birch no longer needed to be around as much as he was. But the kid didn’t understand baggage, didn’t comprehend the idea that women weren’t interested in long term relationships with a twenty-one-year-old tethered to school sleep schedules and parent-teacher meetings. All he saw was an older brother he figured was a decent guy and therefore a good catch.
It was sweet. Naive and sweet.
He rinsed the dishes and loaded them into the dishwasher, taking time to rearrange the top rack. “Don’t you have homework?”
Grumbling as he sprayed down the table and wiped it clean, Grey retreated to his bedroom to study, calling over his shoulder as the door closed. “The world won’t end if you’re happy, Birch. It might even make you less of a grouch to get off on a regular basis.”
*
Jocelyn glanced down to read Birch’s text, smiling as she fired off a quick yes to meeting him at Serpent’s Tongue when she was done. “Sorry, Angelo. What was that?”
“Your contact at the Epson PD,” her boss repeated. “A guy named Bill Fogerty. He’s been tasked with tracking down the books to the company we’re looking into. I know you were hoping to go over the numbers without someone looking over your shoulder, but I think this might be for the best, safety-wise.”
Her nose wrinkled in annoyance at the thought of answering to someone else. “Are they looking for the same thing we are?”
“Worse,” Angelo replied. “All Fogerty told me is that he has intel indicating this isn’t the small interstate laundering operation we thought it was. Keep that in the back of your mind while you review the documents, okay? I’m sending you his contact info now. Stay safe and keep your wits about you.”
“Will do.” She disconnected the call with a huff. Seconds later, the Epson Sheriff information came up on her screen and she tapped the phone number. “Jocelyn Carter for Bill Fogerty, please.”
It didn’t take long to figure out Fogerty was as interested in working with her as she was with him. He reluctantly agreed to allow her to join his deputies for the afternoon as they went to check one of the two remaining addresses attached to the number company. Agreeing to be on time and obey his officers’ orders, she hung up and called Birch.
“Hey, girl,” he greeted her, the thumping of music coming through the speaker. “We still on for dinner?”
Driving toward the Epson PD station, she slowed at a light. “Damn right we are. Just warning you I’ll be on cop time, so I may be running late. But I’ll be there.”
“What the hell are you doing with the cops?” he demanded, and she could hear the music being turned down. “You need me to come down there? Call anyone?”
His shift from relaxed to wound was instant, his voice changing from a leisurely purr to a hardened growl, and she kicked herself, remembering too late that Birch and police weren’t a good pair. “No, no, it’s okay. It’s for work,” she reassured him. “They’re taking the lead on tracking an account down I’m supposed to be reviewing, so it’s probably safer this way.”
“Safer, yeah,” he grunted, his displeasure broadcasting clearly. “I’ll wait for you here, but if you run into any problems, call, okay? Any problems at all.”
“I will. Promise.”
*
Birch paced the length of Serpent’s Tongue while he waited for Jocelyn to arrive. Ryder watched him with increasing agitation.
“Where did you say your girlfriend was again?” his partner asked, erasing the lettering on a stencil he was creating.
“Ride-along with Epson’s finest,” he mumbled, stopping at the exit to look into the parking lot. “It’s a work thing. And she’s not my girlfriend.”
Ryder went quiet for a moment. “She a cop?”
“Hell no. Just riding along.” Seeing her little car pull off the road into the lot, the tension in his shoulders evaporated. “Why don’t you lock up early? No one’s coming in the next thirty minutes.”
Shrugging, Ryder hunched back over his work. “Never know. Don’t do anything I would do tonight.”
With a wave, he walked toward Jocelyn’s car. Her door swung open, and she jumped out, her expression shifting from anxious to relieved in a heartbeat.
“Oh my God, Birch,” she sighed, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I am so, so sorry. My phone battery drained so fast on the highway and neither of the guys had the charging cord I needed. You weren’t too worried, were you?”
He wrapped his arms around her and rested his forehead against hers. “Not at all. Just mentally replayed every single forensics show I’ve ever seen and made notes in case I needed to assemble a search party.”
She laughed, but he wasn’t kidding.
Ryder’s presence in the shop was the only thing standing between him and overreaction as the hours ticked by without hearing from her, the two texts he fired off to her going unanswered and unread. His imagination blended into his personal experience with the Epson PD and his thoughts became darker the longer he went without contact. Logically, he knew she was riding along the right side of the law and wouldn’t face the kind of rough treatment he and his brothers were given over the years. But he, Winter, and River still had scars from some of their interactions with the local cops. And seeing those marks on his brothers helped seal his opinion of their regional boys in blue.
Her thumb grazed across his jaw and he looked down, meeting her worried gaze.
“Birch? Why don’t we get pizza and go back to my hotel room? I don’t feel much like sitting in a restaurant tonight.”
If there was one thing guaranteed to slam his walls down fast, it was pity. He’d been on the receiving end of it his whole life. Teachers, nurses, bank tellers…a good half of the people in town who didn’t treat him and his brothers like scum shot right past empathy into an infuriating condescension. He could block it out whenever necessary, but seeing his younger brothers on the receiving end had made him hyperaware. Because there was a very big difference between being made to feel like the day’s charity case and being made to feel like someone gave a rat’s ass how he and his brothers ate that week.
With Jocelyn, her concern for him didn’t feel like pity. It felt almost protective, something he hadn’t experienced from a woman. Ever.
He followed her car to the hotel, knowing she had adjusted their plans to make him less wound, less tense. Sure, she might be tired after a long day and not too fond of the idea of being out in public, but he knew it wasn’t her own comfort level she was thinking about.
And damn if that didn’t put her higher onto that pedestal.
Following her through the large sliding doors, he answered her questions about the two clients he saw that day, one opting for a simple cartoon he suspected he’d be going over in a few years and the other a cover-up of a home job scorpion.
Kicking her stilettos into the corner of the room, she passed him the hotel’s local menu and grabbed a change of clothes from the closet. “Order from wherever and my boss will pick up the tab,” she called from the bathroom, while he sat on the expensive green sofa. “Add drinks and desserts, too. He owes me big time for spending six hours with all that misplaced testosterone.”
He scanned over the dinner options and called down to the restaurant with the order, feeling completely out of his element with the formality of the woman on the other end of the line.
And for the thousandth time, he wondered what the hell he was doing.
Jocelyn was not only out of his league, she had him spinning circles in the mud trying to figure out what was going on between them. He was certain she was going to kiss him in the bed of his truck last night, and again when she walked into his arms outside Serpent’s Tongue today. Both times, he saw desire lighting up those steel eyes moments before a flash of uncertainty dulled them, tossing up a barrier he wouldn’t cross no matter how bad he wanted to taste her.
Especially since he had a sinking feeling the barrier was spelled BAKER and came with a shit-ton of rumors.
She emerged a few minutes later, her business look replaced by oversized sweat pants and a tank top with a faded university logo emblazoned across the chest, her hair unpinned and wild around her shoulders. “How long until we eat?”
“Twenty-five minutes,” he replied, brows lifting when she walked over and straddled him, her knees pressing against his hips. Gripping the remote tight enough to snap it, he swallowed and tried to will his uncooperative cock into standing down. “Do you want to pick a channel or should I?”
“I don’t particularly care what’s on in the background,” she said with a smirk as she splayed her hands across his chest. “But no documentaries. Those are distractingly informative.”
The remote dropped from his hand when she dipped her head into the crook on his neck. She trailed her tongue up to his ear while her fingers tickled their way up to his shoulders.
Weaving his hands into her hair, he let out a low groan. “You’re killing me. I hope you remember that little tidbit when you’re giving my eulogy.”
“I will,” she breathed against his skin, her lips moving along his jaw. “Any guess which one I’m wearing tonight? And no peeking.”
He slid his hands down her body and grasped her hips, his thumbs hooking into the silky ribbon. “The turquoise one I can undo with a single tug,” he growled, his grip tightening to keep his fingers from doing just that. “I love this one.”
“You haven’t even seen it on me.”
“Don’t have to.” He grinned as she sat up straighter, her fingers trailing along the collar of his shirt. “I picked it out with you in mind, so I know it’ll look incredible.”
She bit her lip. “You haven’t asked to see it.”
“It’s not my place to make that decision.”
“Why did you buy them for me?”
“Because you told me to, and I figured they’d make you happy.” When she narrowed her eyes at him, he shrugged and skimmed his fingers over hers. “And while I definitely won’t look away if or when you want me to see them on you, they’re for you. Not me.”
He stopped talking there, not wanting to admit he was already scouting out more online, saving his favorites just in case.
In case of what, he didn’t want to think about.
Because ‘in case’ meant looking ahead. And looking ahead meant hope. And hope was far easier to lose than it was to find.
Jocelyn continued to watch him, her view almost clinical as she tilted her head and licked her lips. “Do you realize you haven’t kissed me yet?”
His hips shifted under her, the evidence of his growing arousal pressing against her. “Kissing is kind of intimate. I didn’t want to push my luck and get tossed out on my ass.”
“How about I push your luck and mine?” She moved in close, her mouth a fraction away from his, her voice low and a teasing glint in her eyes. “Kiss me, Birch Baker.”
Despite the desire lighting every cell in his body on fire, he held back, sliding one hand up the back of her neck and tangling his fingers in her hair. “Why do you use my full name?”
“So you understand I know exactly who I’m with, who I want, and who I’m kissing,” she murmured as her lips brushed against his. “In case you think I don’t know who you are.”
Any reservations he was clinging to evaporated with his first taste of her cherry lip gloss. His mind was completely overwhelmed by the sensation of her skin under his fingers as she melted against him, allowing his tongue to slide against hers in long, swirling strokes. His body warred with his head, one wanting to barrel forward with the finesse of a jackhammer and the other relishing in the leisurely seduction of her mouth on his.
Her small hand gripped the collar of his shirt in a fist, as though she was trying to keep him from retreating. With a growl, he tightened his own hold on her and devoured her until they were both panting and breathless.
Nipping softly at her bottom lip, he cupped her chin and looked into her eyes. “You really do fuck me up, you know. I know you’re only here for a few weeks and this will end sooner than I’ll probably be ready for, but I’ve been thinking about you all day. You’re in my head and it’s fucking me up.”
Uncertainty erased the flush of her cheeks and she looked away for a moment before the confidence she usually carried returned. “Are you okay with that?”
Was he?
He wasn’t lying when he said he’d spent all day thinking about her. But his mind hadn’t been solely on taking her on his desk. Or against the wall. Or in his bed. He wondered what she was doing. What she was having for lunch. Whether she’d want to spend his day off with him, maybe take a drive into the countryside or hang out with him while he took a look under the hood of Grey’s car.
He thought about plans. Normal plans guys around him made, not the balancing act he’d been living for years.
Plans that, if he was honest with himself, went beyond the few weeks she would be around.
Lifting her hair and watching it fall from his fingers, he nodded. “Yeah, I am. As long as you keep fucking me up and don’t fuck me over.”