Jacked (Trent Brothers #1)(14)

He held the glass storm door open while I worked my key into the lock, hoping none of my neighbors were watching. The old ladies on this street just loved to gossip and seeing a cop at my door would give them plenty to chatter about.

I pushed the door open slightly and glanced up at him. Instead of saying his goodbyes, he was frowning down at me again.

“You have a security system?”

The way he said it made me feel as though I should. Unfortunately? if it didn’t come with the little red brick salt-box house I was renting, I didn’t have it. Still… “Is that any of your business?”

The muscle along his jaw twitched. “It’s a yes or no question, Doc.”

Gah, he was insufferable. “No.”

His frown turned into more of a scowl.

“You should.”

I’ll move that to the top of my list, right after I reinvent a new career. “I’ll take that under advisement.” I set my purse and keys on the small oak table next to the door and started to roll off his hoodie.

He followed me inside. “What are you doing?”

Certainly not stripping for you. “Giving back your sweatshirt.”

He shook his head. “Keep it.”

Part of me hesitated, hating to give up the warm, wonderful smelling reminder of him, but the other, saner part of me ordered the rest of my body to shed off all reminders of this hellacious night. I handed it back to him. “I don’t want it.”

He actually looked wounded, scowling down at the jersey twisted in his hand. I was about to ask him if we were done here so I could slam my front door and then go cry myself to sleep, but those amazing chocolate eyes—filled with hints of hurtful regret—speared me, riveting me to the ground.

Officer Trent cleared his throat, fumbling with the fabric. That muscle in his jaw ticked and flexed. “I’m going to fix this. I don’t want you to worry.”

Okay, fine. Whatever. The damage was already done. I nodded once just to acknowledge him. “Okay, well, um, thanks for seeing me home safely, Officer.”

“Adam,” he said.

I met his gaze; those deep eyes wrapped in long lashes called to me on some primal level, tugging at my body to respond. I shoved my involuntary reaction back. “Adam?”

He nodded. “Name’s Adam, Doc. Adam Trent.”

Why is he telling me this? Like I’m supposed to believe I’m going to get a date or something out of this after that humiliating display and almost arrest? Get real. The fact that he was apparently trying to assuage his own guilt irritated me further. I held the door open, casting a glance toward the street.

“All right then,” he muttered under his breath. “One more thing,” he said, his jaw tightening. “No driving your car until you get a new plate on it. You’ll need to come down to the station and get a copy of the police report. You’ll need that to get a new plate.”

Wonderful. One more thing on the to-do list.

“Got it?”

I fought rolling my eyes at his gruff tone. “Got it.”

His gaze softened but still measured me. He gripped the knob on the storm door, keeping half of his body in the doorframe. “You have someone who can drive you?”

If I didn’t know better, I’d have sworn he actually cared. Problem was I didn’t know why. “I’ll figure something out.”

“You sure? I can take—”

I held up my hand to stop him. “I’m sure. Really. But thanks.” That seemed to stifle him and his misguided pity.

“Okay.” He tipped the brim of his baseball hat slightly and then stepped off my front landing. “Thanks for saving a few more lives tonight. It was inspiring to watch you work. Have a good day, Doc.”

I watched his incredibly nice ass and gorgeous build all clad in badass black stroll down my walkway and climb back into his SUV, easing his body behind the steering wheel with effortless command. There was no final wave goodbye, no final look in my direction, no nothing. He spun away from my curb without so much as a backward glance.

I slammed my front door, ending the crushing insanity for one day. Suppressed anguish burned up my throat like acid on fire. It was hard to breathe, hard to think, suffocating under the tidal wave of emotions. I couldn’t stop my tears from falling. Calling my parents would have to wait a few more minutes.





IT WAS ALREADY dark outside when I climbed into Sarah’s car, which was graciously waiting for me in my frosty driveway.

“Hey.” I stuffed my backpack between my feet and reached for the seatbelt. “Thanks for giving me a ride. I appreciate it.”

“No problem,” Sarah said. “How are you holding up?”

Barely?

“I’m okay.” A chill rippled over me. “I’ll be better once I warm up.”

Sarah frowned and nudged me. “You know what I mean.”

After four years, I did. “I know.”

She turned the radio down. “Any news?”

I was wondering why we weren’t moving when I realized she was waiting for me to give her an answer. A flash of seeing my uncle being wheeled in by the flight medics invaded my thoughts. “He made it through the initial surgery but he’s still in critical condition.”

She gave my forearm a gentle squeeze with her mitten-covered hand. “He’s still with us.”