3. Lottie
Chapter 3
Lottie
I startle as someone knocks on my office door and look up from my computer with a frown. Someone knocking means something I have to deal with, and I already have a lot on my plate with Aiden’s case.
After a restless night, I drove to the temporary foster home this morning to meet the quiet, timid little boy, who immediately stole my heart with his worried frowns and his need to be loved. I sensed it in him, his burning desire to be loved by someone, anyone. I’ll give him all I can, even if that means I do it from my office desk.
“Come in!”
Sheriff Quinn Jordan stands in the doorway. “Afternoon, Lottie.”
His deep voice could soothe wild horses. Or, more fittingly, cause a certain social worker with little-to-no experience with men to melt into a puddle of goo behind her desk.
The man is gorgeous. Big. Broad. Brawny. Strong brow, defined nose, sharp jaw. If I had to guess, I’d put him in his early thirties. An air of loneliness clings to him, along with a hard-bitten worldliness like he’s seen enough of the dark side of life to cease being shocked by anything. He seems like a man who takes everything—including himself—too seriously.
He moves into the room, making the already small space seem even smaller. He’s all wide shoulders and solid frame, making me feel small and delicate in a way I’ve never experienced before. My pulse thrums a little faster as his gaze takes me in, consuming every detail.
My lips stretch into an inviting smile that I quickly dial down a notch or two. I know my eternal optimism grates on some people, but it’s a shield for the excruciating shyness that’s plagued me all my life.
I made a complete fool of myself when I stumbled into him earlier, upending his coffee all over him. My cheeks warm at the mortifying memory of this morning. Me, barreling into the café and plowing into him, sending hot coffee down his uniform shirt. He’s obviously changed as an espresso-free shirt now stretches taut over his broad chest.
“Good afternoon, Sher...uh, Quinn,” I amend my greeting. “Have you come to arrest me for assault with a deadly beverage?”
He cracks a smile, the kind that doesn’t quite reach his eyes but does wonders to soften the hard lines of his face. I want to see his brooding mouth lift in a smile just for me—a real one that reaches those silver-gray eyes that make me forget my name.
“I’ll let you off with a warning this time,” he quips, stepping closer.
Quinn removes his hat and pulls up a chair opposite mine without waiting for an invitation. He leans forward, elbows on his knees, and I see the concern etched into his features. “I’m here about Aiden’s case, as promised. To offer my insight. Fill in any details that might have slipped through from the other night.”
I tap my pen against the mountain of paperwork. “I’m knee-deep in trying to form a picture of Aiden’s day-to-day life. His situation is more tangled than last year’s Christmas lights.”
“What’s got you tangled up?” Despite Quinn’s stoic exterior, something flickers in his eyes. Concern, maybe? Does he know more than he’s letting on?
I sigh, leaning back in my chair. “This is the kind of case that keeps me up at night, you know? Not to jump the gun, but Aiden’s parents seem like monsters. I met him earlier at the foster home. He’s such a sweet kid and doesn’t deserve any of this.” I let out a sigh, the image of Aiden’s small, hopeful face flashing across my mind. “With each layer I peel back, the picture gets uglier.” I spill the beans about the inconsistencies in the testimonies of Aiden’s parents, the unexplained injuries, and the way Aiden flinches at sudden movements, a classic sign that doesn’t lie.
Quinn’s jaw tightens, a steel trap ready to snap shut on any threat. “You think both the parents are involved?”
“Deeply.” The word tastes bitter. “This is more than neglect or the occasional outburst.”
A muscle ticks in his cheek. “Poor kid. How could anyone do that to their child?”
“I wish I had an answer,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. I close my eyes briefly. “I’m worried I’ll miss something important, and they’ll get him back.”
Quinn nods, the corner of his mouth twitching downward. “We’ve got to get this right. Kid’s counting on us.”
“Us?” I repeat, warmth blooming within the tight confines of my chest. Despite our messy introduction yesterday morning, Quinn’s presence is reassuring, and his determination mirrors mine.
He leans forward, forearms resting on my paper fortress. “Us,” he confirms, his mercury eyes holding mine.
My heart thumps at the promise in his words and the intensity in his eyes. Why does that word sound like so much more?
I half-expect him to pull out a badge and declare it all part of his civic duty, but his offer isn’t surprising, given his reputation. That he’s offering help to me specifically makes my stomach swirl with something akin to excitement.
I press my lips together. “I want Aiden to know he’s not alone. That he’s got people looking out for him.”
Quinn nods. “He’ll know. We’ll make sure of it.”
An unspoken promise hangs in the air between us, a vow to protect Aiden at all costs. I let out a long breath I didn’t realize I was holding, absorbing the strange sense of camaraderie in knowing that Quinn is on board with the case. It doesn’t make Aiden’s situation any less serious, but somehow, the burden feels a bit lighter.
“I talked to some of the neighbors. They’ve seen things, heard things,” Quinn says, breaking the silence. “Aiden’s been through hell. But he’s strong. I see it in him, just like you do.”
“I want to give him a chance,” I say softly. “A real chance to feel safe, to feel loved.”
“And we will,” Quinn assures me, his voice firm. “I’ve already arranged for extra patrols around his foster home. No one’s going to get to him.”
The determination in his voice brings a sense of relief I didn’t know I needed. “Thank you, Quinn. It means a lot. Who knows what his parents are capable of?”
Quinn pauses as if weighing his words carefully. “Alicia and Mike Hartless have been on my radar for some time.”
The statement sends a shiver down my spine, and it’s not from the office’s questionable air conditioning.
“What do you mean?” My voice is barely above a whisper, curiosity nibbling away at my professionalism.
“Sunrise Bay might look like a greeting card on the surface, but we both know every town has its shadows. Our quaint little town is just a front for the Hartless couple.”
My eyes widen. “You mean… drugs?” The word is foreign in my mouth, like I’m speaking another language. “In Sunrise Bay? With kids running around and ice cream trucks on every corner?”
“Exactly.” Quinn’s tone is grim. “And it’s not just small-time deals. They’re connected to a network outside of town that the feds have taken an interest in.”
“Great,” I mutter, rubbing at my temple where a headache is blossoming. “So, we’ve got our very own Bonnie and Clyde, minus the charm and the vintage getaway car.”
“Something like that.” The corner of his mouth twitches, a hint of a smile that vanishes quicker than a shooting star.
“Quinn, if they’re as dangerous as you say...” I trail off, not wanting to finish the thought. Aiden’s face floats in my mind, eyes brimming with silent pleas for help.
“Which is why we need to be careful. Strategic.” The chair groans in relief as he stands. “We’ll work together on this. I have resources at the station who can help. We’re in this together, Lottie. For Aiden.”
For Aiden. The words resonate deeply, anchoring me. With Quinn’s support, maybe we can help Aiden find the safety and love he’s been missing.
We stare at each other for several long seconds, and I swear the air thickens around us. My nipples harden beneath my linen shirt, and I squeeze my thighs together as heat pools in my core. Dear God, what is this? This overwhelming desire to climb his big body like a tree and impale myself on his sturdy branch?
I shake my head at my ridiculous metaphors. Get a grip, Lottie. The problem is, I do want to get a grip—on Quinn Jordan.
“You’re doing a great job, Lottie,” Quinn says, breaking across my lusty thoughts. “I can see how much you care. Aiden’s lucky to have you on his side.”
I clear my throat. “Thanks, Quinn. That means a lot. It feels like I’m not doing enough, like I’m failing him.”
“You’re not failing him,” he says, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that sends a shiver down my spine. “You’re giving him hope. And that’s more than enough.”
I swallow hard, the weight of his words sinking in. “Hope,” I repeat, my voice barely audible. “That’s what we all need, isn’t it?”
Quinn nods. “Hope and someone to stand by us. Aiden has both now.”
We exchange a look that feels like an unspoken agreement, a silent vow to protect and support Aiden no matter what.
“Teamwork,” I quip, trying to lighten the mood. “Like peanut butter and jelly, or... coffee and klutzes.”
“Or sheriffs and social workers,” he counters, the barest hint of a smirk playing on his lips.
“Let’s hope this partnership turns out better than my coffee escapades,” I say, managing a wry grin.
He picks up his hat and prepares to leave. “Be careful, Lottie.”
“I always am,” I reply, my body warming at his concern.
As Quinn heads for the door, he pauses and glances back at me. “I expect a full hazard report next time you bring a beverage into my vicinity.” He pauses, his mercury eyes intense on mine. “And next time you throw something hot at me, make sure it’s you.”
My mouth drops open in shock as the door swings shut behind his tight ass. Did he just say what I think he did? That he thinks I’m hot? And… was that an invitation to throw myself at him? I wouldn’t know how, not in a sexual sense.
I press my hands to my hot cheeks and shake my head, sure I misunderstood him. It’s funny how life throws curveballs at you, like making you embarrass yourself in front of the one person in town who embodies law, order, and a startling amount of protective instincts.
I glance at the files before me, the scribbled notes and heartbreaking photographs, and square my shoulders. Aiden’s counting on me. On us. If his parents are as dangerous as Quinn said, our fight for Aiden might be fraught with more than spilled coffee, but it’s a fight I’m willing to take on. For Aiden, for Sunrise Bay, and maybe a little bit for the gruff sheriff who’s far more than meets the eye.
Forcing myself to return to the task at hand, I dive back into the files. Aiden needs me focused, not flustered over Sunrise Bay’s sexy sheriff and how my heart insists on performing acrobatics whenever he’s around. Or how the humidity rises in my panties every time I see him.
I turn back to my computer screen. For now, it’s back to the mission. Saving kids, one case at a time.