I slide off his lap. Jesse looks like he could happily tear somebody’s heart out with his teeth when he powers down the window.
“What?” he snaps.
It’s one of the uniformed officers from the scene, looking curious, terrified, and intrigued, all at the same time. “I saw your vehicle and I wondered if you’d broken down. You said you were taking her to the doctor…” His voice trails off, then he changes his mind. “I can see things are fine. Sorry to bother you.”
Once he walks away, I check my reflection in the mirror attached to the visor. My hair is a mess, my lips are swollen, and I’m covered in glass fragments and speckles of blood. It’s obvious to me—and probably the other cop—that we were making out.
Jesse slams a hand into the dashboard, and my heart sinks. I guess he’s ashamed that we got caught, and the hurt swells up until I think I might be sick. His look softens at once, and he covers my hand with his.
“Hey, no. It’s not that, Shan.”
“What is it then?”
“I’m pissed we had to stop.”
I don’t suggest that we pick up where we left off. This isn’t the time or place. We both got carried away, but damn, was that amazing. “Oh.”
He smiles, his dark eyes warm as melted chocolate. “Now I have to be responsible and make sure you don’t need stitches. Then you’re coming home with me. No arguments, or I’ll remember that I’m furious. You don’t wanna find out how that story ends, sugar.”
I smirk. Actually, I kinda do.
Eight
Jesse takes me to a twenty-four-hour clinic, where the doctor cleans and wraps my injuries, apart from a deep cut between my middle fingers. It gapes open when I flex my knuckles; that gets two stitches, but since they’ll dissolve on their own, I don’t have to come back in. The doc looks tired, and he doesn’t ask any questions. I’m sure Jesse was prepared to answer them, but I guess the doc sees much worse on a daily basis.
This time, when we get in the SUV, Jesse doesn’t take me to my place. He’s gotten savvy; he figures I might change my mind if he gives me the chance, so we end up at his apartment, even though I don’t have any clothes. Like me, he doesn’t live in a complex. Rather, this is a three-story brick building. From the size, I estimate there are six apartments total, two on each floor.
Jesse leads the way up two flights, then unlocks the door. Inside, it’s tidy, but I glimpse the ravages of an old scuffle; there are lighter spots on the walls, as if small holes have been patched, and the furniture is so crisp and new that I figure something must’ve happened to his old, comfy stuff. This doesn’t look like I imagined, however. It’s warmer and less modern, possibly because of the combination of textiles and colors. I would never have pegged Jesse as favoring red and yellow. Against the white walls, it works, though.
“You’ll sleep on the couch,” he says.
I’m not surprised. The heat of the moment overwhelmed him in the car, but now that logic’s driving the bus again, he doesn’t feel right about asking me to get naked and hop in his bed. Though that would totally be all right with me.
“I hope you have a spare toothbrush.”
“In the medicine cabinet.”
When he comes back with it, I ask, “Are you worried about your coworker telling everyone…?”
He shakes his head. “They’ll probably give me shit for steaming up the windows with a girl in a Pretzel Pirate uniform, but I can take it.”
Oh, shit. I realize I am, in fact, still wearing my work clothes. “Do you have a washer? I have to go in tomorrow. I promised Tim I’d cover his shift if he took over for me today.”
“So you could go poking around a store that came to you in a vision.”
“Hey, it was almost a memory.”
“I can’t believe you just went off on your own. Were you thinking at all ? You know somebody’s stalking you, Shan.”
“Since when is shopping hazardous to your health?” I bristle.
Jesse sighs.
“What?” he snaps.
It’s one of the uniformed officers from the scene, looking curious, terrified, and intrigued, all at the same time. “I saw your vehicle and I wondered if you’d broken down. You said you were taking her to the doctor…” His voice trails off, then he changes his mind. “I can see things are fine. Sorry to bother you.”
Once he walks away, I check my reflection in the mirror attached to the visor. My hair is a mess, my lips are swollen, and I’m covered in glass fragments and speckles of blood. It’s obvious to me—and probably the other cop—that we were making out.
Jesse slams a hand into the dashboard, and my heart sinks. I guess he’s ashamed that we got caught, and the hurt swells up until I think I might be sick. His look softens at once, and he covers my hand with his.
“Hey, no. It’s not that, Shan.”
“What is it then?”
“I’m pissed we had to stop.”
I don’t suggest that we pick up where we left off. This isn’t the time or place. We both got carried away, but damn, was that amazing. “Oh.”
He smiles, his dark eyes warm as melted chocolate. “Now I have to be responsible and make sure you don’t need stitches. Then you’re coming home with me. No arguments, or I’ll remember that I’m furious. You don’t wanna find out how that story ends, sugar.”
I smirk. Actually, I kinda do.
Eight
Jesse takes me to a twenty-four-hour clinic, where the doctor cleans and wraps my injuries, apart from a deep cut between my middle fingers. It gapes open when I flex my knuckles; that gets two stitches, but since they’ll dissolve on their own, I don’t have to come back in. The doc looks tired, and he doesn’t ask any questions. I’m sure Jesse was prepared to answer them, but I guess the doc sees much worse on a daily basis.
This time, when we get in the SUV, Jesse doesn’t take me to my place. He’s gotten savvy; he figures I might change my mind if he gives me the chance, so we end up at his apartment, even though I don’t have any clothes. Like me, he doesn’t live in a complex. Rather, this is a three-story brick building. From the size, I estimate there are six apartments total, two on each floor.
Jesse leads the way up two flights, then unlocks the door. Inside, it’s tidy, but I glimpse the ravages of an old scuffle; there are lighter spots on the walls, as if small holes have been patched, and the furniture is so crisp and new that I figure something must’ve happened to his old, comfy stuff. This doesn’t look like I imagined, however. It’s warmer and less modern, possibly because of the combination of textiles and colors. I would never have pegged Jesse as favoring red and yellow. Against the white walls, it works, though.
“You’ll sleep on the couch,” he says.
I’m not surprised. The heat of the moment overwhelmed him in the car, but now that logic’s driving the bus again, he doesn’t feel right about asking me to get naked and hop in his bed. Though that would totally be all right with me.
“I hope you have a spare toothbrush.”
“In the medicine cabinet.”
When he comes back with it, I ask, “Are you worried about your coworker telling everyone…?”
He shakes his head. “They’ll probably give me shit for steaming up the windows with a girl in a Pretzel Pirate uniform, but I can take it.”
Oh, shit. I realize I am, in fact, still wearing my work clothes. “Do you have a washer? I have to go in tomorrow. I promised Tim I’d cover his shift if he took over for me today.”
“So you could go poking around a store that came to you in a vision.”
“Hey, it was almost a memory.”
“I can’t believe you just went off on your own. Were you thinking at all ? You know somebody’s stalking you, Shan.”
“Since when is shopping hazardous to your health?” I bristle.
Jesse sighs.
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