Jacked (Trent Brothers #1)(53)

I nodded. “Okay. Thank you.”

His shrug of indifference wasn’t convincing.

I drifted my hand down to his wrist but Adam gave me his hand, opened and offered, beckoning my fingers to lace around his. He was letting me in, trusting me with some of his deepest wounds and scars. It felt so good to have that with him.

I could see it the grim set of his lips, in the crinkle of his sad eyes, knowing firsthand the destructive wrath of false accusations and the crushing weight of guilt.

Now, only if I could trust Adam with mine.





IT DIDN’T TAKE long to reach the strip mall where the notary services were located. He knew exactly where I needed to go without me having to direct him, and after his explanation, the silence was actually preferred.

Adam pulled into an open spot, cut the ignition, and then said to me, “Stay there.”

Huh?

Stay?

Don’t I go in there with you, too?

I watched him hustle around the front of the truck, coming over to the passenger door, opening it for me. He held out his hand.

Holy shit.

As soon as we touched again, I felt it. Warmth and strength and breath-rending anticipation mixed with a million other tiny impulses. I knew I wasn’t going crazy.

Moth, meet your flame.

He placed his hand on my back, guiding me through the threshold when he opened the door.

I wracked my brain, trying to remember if any guy I’d ever spent time with opened doors like that for me. Mark? No. He was a selfish *. Randy? Maybe once but it was probably by accident as chivalry was a stretch for him.

“Hi! Can I help you?” some young girl with long, straight brown hair said, slightly bouncing on her toes and smiling at Adam as if he were dipped in sugary candy coating when we approached the counter.

Part of me considered giving her a tracheotomy with the pen lying out on the counter to lessen her buoyant enthusiasm. Impaling her in the middle of her forehead to drain her frontal lobe also sounded tempting. Whoa. The possessive, jealous feelings coming over me were disconcerting to say the least. I was just about to speak up, tell her why I was here, but Adam took over, handling it.

The moment he started speaking I sort of froze and rocked back on my foot. This was a new, unsettling feeling, and one I wasn’t sure I was completely comfortable with. Usually I’m the one directing the team, giving instructions, orchestrating the chaos when a trauma patient comes in.

But as I stood there, doing nothing more than watching him handle things with clear and concise instructions, I felt a wave of relief wash over me, followed by a warm rush of feminine appreciation.

Oh, believe me, the urge to bark orders was simmering right there on the surface. Even the desire to move Adam’s rock-solid cop body out of the way, point at the paperwork and say, “You need to do this—STAT” was there. But, for once, I didn’t need to exercise any control over the situation.

In fact, the only control I needed to embolden was to silence myself and let him take the lead.

What a liberating feeling. I felt light, ethereal… almost giddy.

I knew my ER residency was taking its toll on me—dealing with unspeakable traumas and horrific wounds and trying to determine from a laundry list of symptoms what was ailing a patient. I just hadn’t had a benchmark to compare it to—until now.

“Erin, need that paper,” Adam said, stirring me from my self-analysis to hand over the copy of the police report.

While I filled out a required form, Adam hovered next to me. I thought he was scrutinizing my handwriting until he leaned even closer, giving me all of his attention. I felt the heat warming my cheeks. I wondered if we might be sharing some of the same illicit thoughts? Does he feel the same attraction? The same unfulfilled sexual tension? Or is it just me? Perhaps I am just imagining it all.

“Excuse me. Sorry, I have to ask. Aren’t you the cop on the billboard near—?” the young girl started to gush when she stopped typing into her computer.

Adam cut her cleanly off with a curt, “No.” He didn’t even bother to look at her when he answered; he kept his eyes trained on me instead. Or maybe it was just my lips.

I couldn’t help but smile at him. We both ignored her request to take a picture with him.

His finger brushed over the sleeve of my coat. “So, what are you hungry for?”

I felt the blush again, and held back my first instinct to answer plain and simple—You.





I GLANCED UP at the familiar green awning over the windows, wondering if I was being one hell of a cheap, masochistic bastard bringing her here.

I may be far from rich but I could well afford a decent meal and to treat her properly, and bringing her here was not what I’d envisioned when I offered to take her to dinner.

I should have decided for us instead of giving in to her. Just looking at the front door of the place felt like bad déjà vu. “Are you sure this is where you want to eat?”

Al’s Tavern used to be one of my regular dinner stops; it had that Irish pub feel and great bar food, but it was far from fine dining. It also added a huge undercurrent of unwanted temptation that I so didn’t need right now, especially after dealing with Castoll this morning. I had thought of at least five other restaurants to take her to, but she had picked this place instead—quite enthusiastically I might add—and as much as I wanted to, I couldn’t deny her.