10. Jensen
10
JENSEN
“ W e need some ground rules while I’m here,” Nessa says in lieu of “hello” as she bursts through the door.
“Umm…” I say as I cock my head to the side because I’m exhausted, and I really don’t want to deal with this right now.
“I just want to make sure it’s clear that we won’t be hooking up because while ordinarily, I’d want to climb you like a tree, this situation is anything but normal,” she deadpans. “And you’re too nice for me.”
“That’s awfully presumptuous.”
“Is it though? You’re the definition of all-American boy turned sheriff do-gooder.”
“Not afraid to hurt my feelings, huh?” I say as my lips quirk up on the side. Moving to the fridge, I grab a beer and hold it out to her.
Taking it, she says, “See? Nice.” She makes it sound like something you could catch, like the flu or worse, but my charming demeanor has gotten me out of more than my fair share of trouble.
And into a few beds too.
“Nice isn’t a bad thing,” I drawl as I lean a hip against the counter.
“Of course it’s not a bad thing. I’m just saying you’re too nice for me, and I really want to make sure that nothing jeopardizes my ability to have a relationship with Remi.”
Her eyes are sincere and I know that she’s letting me see it rather than just telling me how it is. My heart warms, and I nod even though I want to laugh at her assessment that I’m too nice for her.
My mind has already conjured plenty of not nice things I’d like to do to her, but I shut that line of thinking down just as quickly.
Because she’s right.
She’s off-limits, not because I want her to be but because she has to be—for my sanity and for Remi.
“Anything else?”
She sighs and rubs the spot between her eyebrows, her shirt lifting at the movement, causing the barest hint of skin to show above the waistband of her dress pants.
Fuck.
Taking a sip of my beer, I wait for her to speak.
“If it’s all right, I’d like to take you up on that offer to stay here and help with Remi.”
“Of course.”
“Good, because I already told Coach Turner I made other arrangements.”
I chuckle and she gives me a what can you do smile. “Your meeting went well then?”
“Really well, actually.” It’s clear she’s surprised by this, and it gives me a flicker of hope that she won’t hate it here.
I still don’t know a ton about soccer or the Tennessee Tornadoes, but I can confirm I’m a lot more knowledgeable after the deep dive I took the moment Nessa left this morning.
In between Remi’s meltdowns and mine, that is.
She’s a hell of an athlete, and god damn, does she look hot on the field.
“That’s great, congratulations.”
She presses her lips together. “I wasn’t happy. Being voluntold isn’t really where I excel.”
“I gathered that.”
Ignoring me she adds, “Apparently, my coach thought this would be the best option considering everything that’s happened. Take some time to process the last few months.”
Her face and voice are neutral, and despite considering myself above average at reading people, I can’t tell if she’s pissed or indifferent about it—I just know it’s not the whole truth.
“And is that what you want?”
“I really hate not being in control.”
I watch as her hands land on her hips with that declaration, and all blood in my body reroutes to my dick that is suddenly screaming for release.
And now I need a diversion unless I plan on using the island to hide behind for the remainder of the night.
“You’re still welcome to use the shed, and I’ll do my best to work around your schedule.”
She scrunches up her nose and it’s adorable. And problematic.
Because for the life of me I can’t remember the last time a woman had gotten this far under my skin. It’s probably because she’s convinced I’m too much of a nice guy for her—and I am.
But I’m also wound up tighter than a rattlesnake most days and spend hours taking it out on the bag in my home gym.
And I wouldn’t mind trading that version of stress relief for a chance to get her naked and writhing beneath me.
“It’s got heat and air conditioning.” When she still looks skeptical I add, “ Shed might be a bit deceiving. Not my fault you declined the tour last night.”
“What, is it smaller? Typical.”
My grin is wolfish and I don’t even try to hide it. “There you go thinkin’ the worst of me again.” She rolls her eyes and opens her mouth to retort, but I hold up my hand. “I promise it’s big. You won’t be disappointed.”
“I’ve heard that before.”
“Yeah, but not from me.”
She hums and I swear we’re not just talking about the shed. My dick definitely doesn’t think we’re talking about the shed.
Now’s not the time, but I can’t help running through the last year in my head— when was the last time I got laid?
I’d met her cousin in Nashville on the last night of a training. I’d opted to go out rather than drive home and take an early shift. Scarlett had been fun, and the night of anonymity had been exhilarating.
But at what cost?
A woman had lost her life because of a one-night stand where she didn’t even know the guy’s name.
My name.
And while I couldn’t regret the baby sleeping down the hall, it was still surreal and heartbreaking at the same time.
“I never asked how you found me,” I say, effectively killing the easy banter between us.
“Scarlett had a picture of the two of you on her phone. I did the rough math and then searched back through her photos and took a chance. The woman who had been Scarlett’s nurse said she’d confided some details about the night you met, and while they were limited, she said that you were in law enforcement. The logo on your shirt was from The Iron Cask and I just did some detective work.” She smirks. “Your picture on the department’s website is rather charming.”
My cheeks heat because this woman just does something to me. She’s almost a decade younger than I am and while that shouldn’t be a big deal, it feels like a lifetime.
She’s out there playing the field both literally and figuratively—and she should. She’s gorgeous and talented and fucking incredible.
But it doesn’t make our realities any different.
We’re from two different worlds—married to our jobs—but when her time here is over, she’ll go back to Nashville without a second thought.
“Well, if you’re looking for a retirement gig let me know,” I say, forcing as much amusement into my tone as I can manage. Because honestly, I’m more than a little impressed.
“Sleuthing isn’t really my passion, but I’ll keep it in mind.”
Remi fusses on the monitor and Nessa’s eyes track to the little screen, a sweet smile on her face as she watches her wrestle an arm free from the swaddle.
“How about you get changed and I’ll grab her and order dinner?”
Her gaze snaps to mine like she forgot she wasn’t alone.
“Sure,” she says, backing away, her gaze still locked on mine. “Remember what I said, Sheriff.”
“You’ve said a lot of things, Miss Hart.”
“I have,” she says slowly, “but you’re looking at me like you could fall for me, and that’s a dealbreaker.”
“You’re bein’ presumptuous again.”
“Just observant.”
“Guess we’ll have to agree to disagree on this one.” I nod toward the hall. “Go change, take some time to settle in.”
She stops…stalling…like she wants to have the last word but there’s nothing left to say. Turning on her heel, she disappears down the hall, and I heave out a breath when I hear her door close.
Because she’s right.
And I have to remember it’s wrong.