In Your Dreams (Blue Heron #4)(95)

Oddly enough, it was nice to know.

“I got my front teeth knocked out in college,” Em said. “Hockey. Five stitches.”

“Oh, yeah? Are those teeth fake, then?”

“No. The miracles of modern medicine. The dentist put them right back in. It was gross. Lots of blood. I was extremely brave, of course.”

“No scar?”

“No, I have a scar.”

“Let me see.”

The scar was just above her upper lip, a faint white line about half an inch long, barely noticeable. “It’s there. Trust me.”

He came out of the kitchen and stood in front of her. Cupped her face in his hands and stared at her mouth.

Emmaline could feel her heartbeat, slow, rolling thumps.

His face was serious. Mouth perfect. She didn’t even dare look at his eyes for fear that her knees would buckle.

“Oh, yeah,” he whispered. “There it is.” He ran his thumb over the scar, and Em sort of forgot how to breathe. Was it in-in-out? Or...oh, wow, those eyes—oops, she’d looked—were so beautiful. All of him was so—

Lazarus came tearing into the room, Sarge hot on his heels. The cat veered under a couch; Wonder Pup didn’t steer that well and crashed into Em’s legs.

Emmaline stepped back. Cleared her throat. She was still in uniform. It was probably against some rule to kiss in uniform.

“Sarge, go lie down,” she ordered. The puppy gave her a reproachful look. “Do it,” she said.

He obeyed, giving her a mournful eyebrow as only a German shepherd could.

A timer went off in the kitchen, and Jack went back behind the counter.

Fat snowflakes began falling from the sky.

It was utterly romantic here, even with the demonic sounds the cat was making from under the couch. “Is he okay?” Emmaline asked.

“Oh, sure. That’s his normal.”

Jack seemed irritatingly unaffected by her scar-touching. Men. Such mysteries. She sat back down at the counter and watched him stir and nudge and adjust the heat. Captain Seduction one minute, Chef Ramsay the next.

Em had always had a thing for Gordon Ramsay, now that she thought of it.

“Can I ask you a question, Jack?” she asked.

“Sure.”

“Why me? There are a lot of women in this town who’d love to go out with you. Who fantasize about going out with you. Who’d run their grandmothers over with a tractor to go out with you. Why are you interested in me?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “I’m a guy. We don’t think that hard. Is ‘because you’re good in bed’ a sufficient answer?”

A surprised snort of laughter escaped. “Um, no.”

He poured her more wine. Such nice manners. “I have a question for you, Officer. Why won’t you go out with me? And don’t give me that bullshit about me still having a thing for Hadley or having PTSD.”

“You do have a thing for Hadley. And you’re the poster child for PTSD.”

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that and await your answer.”

Em covered by taking a sip of her drink. It really was fantastic. She’d never paid much attention to wine descriptions—it was wine, how bad could it be?—but when Jack identified the flavors the way he did, she really could taste them. Guess it wasn’t just blowing smoke after all.

“What if Hadley wasn’t in town?” he asked when she failed to answer. “And what if those kids didn’t...crash? Would you go out with me then?”

“Well, you were never interested before, so I’d have to say no.”

“Maybe I could say you were the one who was never interested, whereas I always thought of you as the hot hockey chick.”

Another snort. Must stop doing that. “You never asked me out.”

“You never gave me the time of day.”

“If you were pining for me, you hid it well.”

He gave her a tolerant look. “I wasn’t pining for you, Emmaline. I did think you were the hot hockey chick. We all do.”

“Which explains why I’ve had two dates in three years.”

“Maybe your sweet and gentle personality has something to do with that.”

“Oh, bite me.”

“I rest my case.” He smiled. “You don’t have to have a sweet and gentle attitude. You do have to at least smile once in a while. You’re a tiny bit guarded—has anyone ever told you that?”

“No, as a matter of fact,” she lied. She took another sip of wine. Make that a chug. “Then there are your looks.” Shut it, Em, her brain advised.

“I’m hideous?”

“A little. I’m sorry to be the one to tell you.” He smiled, and her mouth went dry. “No...you’re...incredibly good-looking. It’s a consideration.”

He looked at her as if she were a complicated algebra equation. “So you’re not interested in me because I’m incredibly good-looking, since your ex was also good-looking and he broke your heart.”

“In addition to the other stuff. And drop that expression. It’s not as dumb as it sounds.”

“Good. Because it sounds very dumb.”

“Well, it’s not. It’s very complicated and intelligent.”