Chapter 11
Jesse
I know nobody likes me.
Why do we have a holiday season to emphasize it?
~ A Charlie Brown Christmas
Alex and I have been on shift together for five hours. And now we’re on our dinner break, eating takeout from Dairy Land in the front seat of our patrol car. The glass fogs with the heat from the vents and our breath in the enclosed cab, blurring the snow-dusted world beyond the windshield.
“I will regret this tomorrow,” she says around a hefty bite of a chili dog.
“Shhh,” I say, smiling over at her. “You’re ruining my denial.”
She laughs, covering her mouth with the back of her hand.
I watch her, increasingly unable to hide the fact that I’m attracted to her.
It’s not just her looks, or the way her face lights up when she smiles.
It’s not that accent. It’s her—the way she sees me, her passion about her dream, the ease between us, her sense of humor.
“What are you looking at?” She asks, wiping her chin and cheeks in flustered swipes as if she’s certain she’s made a mess and that’s what has my attention.
“You,” I say, letting my declaration hang in the air.
We’re at work. Even if we’re on break, we’re still sitting in the cruiser.
I’m hyperaware of the protocol for behavior on the job.
While we don’t have any actual rules against dating a coworker, I want to stay within the lines.
And, as kind and caring as Alex has been to me, I’m not sure I have a read on where she stands with regards to us.
Are we just friends? Or is she possibly interested in more?
She just stares back at me, her eyes soft and inviting.
“How’s your burger?” she asks, stealing one of my fries out of the container sitting on the console.
“Did you just ask me that to distract me while you swiped a fry?”
“Are you going to arrest me?” she teases, making a show of grabbing another and popping it in her mouth.
“Recidivism is not a laughing matter.”
She laughs. “Oh, but it is!” Her eyes crinkle at the corners and her laughter rings through the cab. “That was such a good comeback.”
“Thanks. I have been known to think on my feet on occasion.”
“I believe it.” She smiles again.
Her confidence in me sends a bolt of heat through my chest.
“What was your hardest case?” she asks, grabbing yet another fry. It feels comfortable—intimate, even—the way she helps herself to what’s mine.
“Hmmm. Well, I’d say it was when I helped track down Em’s parents. I don’t know if Lexi told you Em had amnesia after she hit a tree outside Aiden’s farm.”
“No!”
“It’s public knowledge around here. She couldn’t even remember her own name. Anyway, I was a part of helping her parents locate her.”
“Wow.”
“You’re impressed?”
“Of course. That’s a big deal. They must have been so grateful.”
“I guess they were.”
“And here you had me convinced you never have to deal with crime in Bordeaux. We’ve been on the trail of a series of thefts, you had a major missing person’s case …”
“Not to mention when Bessie breaks through the fence and wanders into town. Though, a lot of those calls are handled by the firefighters.”
“Bessie?”
“A cow notorious for wanting to mingle with the people.”
She laughs again. “Nothing in the academy would have prepared me for that call.”
We finish our food and I take the wrappers, wad them into the bag and throw them in a trash can outside Dairy Land.
We ride out of the parking lot, holiday music playing low on the radio.
The snowdrifts along the road have a tinge of grey around the edges.
The street is clear, but the lawns and lots around town are still blanketed in white.
I’m calmer than I’ve felt in years. More than calm—a deep sense of contentment fills me. It’s the kind of peace I used to think belonged only to other people—the ones who didn’t fumble through life.
Beside me, Alex hums along to the song on the radio.
I’m about to say something to Alex about how good it is working with her when she says, “Is that Cooter?”
I look in the direction Alex is pointing. Cooter’s ambling through yards, a string of battery-operated Christmas lights wrapped around his neck several times. The bulbs blink in an irregular rhythm. He’s muttering to himself, sipping a steamy drink from a to-go cup.
I grin. “He’s looking extra festive tonight.”
Alex deadpans, “As long as he’s not driving.”
I understand her concern. It’s appropriate.
Still, my protectiveness of Cooter wins out. “He’s mostly harmless. And not everything’s police business. I vote we let him be.”
“Are we voting now?” she asks.
“That’s what partners do, right?” I say.
She nods quietly, and I wonder if she’s thinking about how little her ex valued her input—valued her. He’s a fool. But he had his chance—and blew it. I don’t intend to blow mine—if she ever gives me one.
The radio crackles, interrupting my thoughts about Alex.
Jeanie’s voice comes through, “Good evening, you two. “We’ve got some suspicious activity—possible theft—in the alleyway off Main.”
Alex reaches over for the call button on the mic. “We’re on it, Jeanie. Have a nice night.”
“You too, sweetie. And I’m switching the calls over to the county after this one.”
“Okay, sounds good.” Alex hangs up the mic and focuses out the front window.
It’s not the right time to tell her I admired her taking the call. Right now we’ve got to focus on whatever’s happening off Main.
We turn into the narrow, snow-lined alley, our headlights sweeping over a figure dragging a nearly full-sized Santa alongside a dumpster.
“Is that Pax?” Alex asks.
“It is.” We exchange a look that says maybe we’ve been too hasty dismissing the teens as suspects.
It’s possible not all of them were involved, or maybe they were.
Alex steps out of the patrol car quickly, authoritatively. I follow at a less commanding pace.
Alex crosses her arms and widens her stance just the slightest. “What were you doing in the dumpster?”
Pax shrugs. “Lookin’ for stuff. People toss good things.”
I believe him. He’s obviously freaked out. Though, that could be a sign of guilt. In this case it seems like Pax is just disturbed we caught him rummaging.
Alex doesn’t seem as convinced. “It’s late on a school night, Pax.” Her arms are still crossed. “Do your parents know you’re out here?”
“Not exactly.”
She waits for him to elaborate.
“I told them I was going to Braxton’s.”
“And then you came out dumpster diving?” Alex asks.
“Which technically isn’t a crime,” I say, looking at Pax, but trying to send my partner a message. “That Santa doesn’t look brand new.”
Alex eyes me, but then she exhales, visibly softening. “You’re right.”
When our eyes meet, we’re in agreement.
Pax offers an explanation now that Alex isn’t on the offensive. Her arms have dropped and her whole demeanor is more approachable. The shift hits me low in the chest—like watching frost melt off glass. Only, it’s her, softening because she trusts my judgement. She’s following my lead.
“I thought I’d clean this up and give it to my mom when I restore it.
” Pax dips his head. “That’s why I didn’t tell my parents where I was going.
I saw a guy toss it out the back door of the movie theater this afternoon, and I thought if it was still here I’d come find it.
I’ve got a workshop in the garage. I like fixin’ stuff up. ”
At this, Alex smiles. “That’s great, Pax. Sorry if I came across harsh. We’ve had a lot of theft going on. I shouldn’t have assumed the worst.”
“I understand,” he says. “Can I go now?”
We let him go and then Alex and I walk side by side back to the car.
I glance down at Alex. “You listened to me back there.” The acknowledgment is almost more for my benefit than hers.
“Of course, I listened to you. I should have followed your lead in the first place. It was just awfully fishy. What kid is out in the alley digging through trash on a school night, then dragging a life-sized Santa behind himself?”
“No. You were right to be suspicious. We make a good team.”
“Good cop, bad cop?” she asks.
“Nah. Just two good cops,” I smile over at her.
My chest feels tight with emotion. Alex listened. She didn’t dismiss me. She acts like it was no big deal. To me, it was everything.
We stand in front of the cruiser, neither of us making a move to get into the car quite yet.
Pax is out of sight, having rounded the corner on his way home.
It’s just the two of us and the golden light of the headlamps.
She’s not like anyone else I’ve worked with—or known.
Our breath rises in puffs, mingling in the air overhead.
Alex is staring at me, not saying anything. Only a few feet separate us.
She shivers. My instinct to care for her kicks in and I step closer, tugging the collar of her jacket snug beneath her chin.
Her breath catches and she utters my name on a whisper. “Jesse.”
The space between us warms. The smell of our dinner still clings to her coat—chili and warm bread, a reminder of her playfully stealing my fries. She fits here. With me.
I lean in—my heartbeat loud enough to hear—forgetting where we are and what we’re doing. All I can see is her. That soft, inviting expression. The way her smile tips up the closer I get.
The world narrows to the inch between us—then explodes back to full volume. My patrol radio crackles through the silence. We jerk away as if shocked.
“Bordeaux patrol. Come in.”
My eyes are on Alex’s. She’s blushing. Even in the dim light of the headlights I can see it.
I pull the radio from my belt and press the call button. “This is Bordeaux patrol.”
“We’ve got a situation at the Dobbs home.”
County dispatch rattles off the address. “Apparently both homes are blasting Christmas music out their windows at top volume. A neighbor called in the complaint.”
“We’re on it,” I say, clipping the mic back to my belt.
Alex tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and walks to her side of the car without another word. I glance over at her as I’m buckling my seatbelt. She’s still flushed, looking anywhere but in my direction.
We’re at work. On the clock—and I almost kissed her.
Did she lean in? Or did I imagine it? What was I thinking—on duty, for crying out loud?
My grip on the steering wheel is too tight, my pulse still racing. I’ve never wanted anyone like this. And wanting her while I’m in uniform feels wrong—like an affront to my oath. Lines I’ve held my whole life shift when she looks at me like I matter. Like she wants me as much as I want her.
We handle the Dobbs-Hawthorne situation with professionalism.
They each hooked up Bluetooth speakers in an effort to out-play the other with a blaring version of a Christmas carol.
The sound was deafening when we arrived.
After a warning and a noise citation written for each of them, Alex and I climb back into the cruiser.
Our shift is coming to a close and our near-kiss feels like an infraction. I’m a man awaiting sentencing. Or maybe clemency.
“About the alley …” I start in at the same time as she says, “What were they thinking?”
“Grace and Stuart?” I ask.
“Yes,” she chuckles, glancing over at me at last.
“Competition will do things to people.”
“I’ll say.”
She’s finally relaxing—softly smiling in my direction.
I pull the cruiser into the station lot and park beside our cars under the glow of an overhead pole light. The stillness of the winter night surrounds us, making it feel like we’re the only two people on Earth.
“Good work tonight,” Alex says, her voice soft and hesitant.
I nod. “You too.”
I hold her gaze. She looks down at her gloved hands and back up at me. For a moment I wonder if something’s about to happen—but then, she gives me a small smile, opens her door, and says, “Well, goodnight, Jesse.”
“Goodnight, Alex.”
A rush of words crowds my thoughts—you’re the kindest person I’ve ever met … may I kiss you … let me take you out—but none of them cross my lips.
I stay, rooted in place, watching her climb into her car. Waiting for her engine to kick on. And staring as her taillights fade down the street.
She leaned in. I know she did.
I’m going to ask her out. I just need to find my moment.