Protecting What's His (Line of Duty #1)(52)

“Shut up. You look beautiful. Have a great time.”

Willa’s face broke into a dazzling smile. “Thanks for the dress, the makeup. Everything.”

Ginger held back her tears. “You’re welcome.”

Her sister looked like she wanted to say something else but hesitated.

“Spit it out, Wip.”

“Am I being a jackass, trusting Evan like this?”

Ginger thought for a moment, taking the question seriously. It might have been posed in typical Willa fashion, but vulnerability lingered behind it. “No, you’re not being a jackass. Is it a risk? Yes. But I don’t think you’d place your trust easily, Willa. Now you just have to have faith in your own judgment. Coming to Chicago was a risk, but we took it. Maybe it’s time we take a few more.”

Willa nodded, absorbing her words. “Kind of like you with the lieutenant?”

At the mention of Derek, Ginger felt her insides melt. He’d been working around the clock since the raid, busy with paperwork and interrogations of the arrested men. She’d woken alone in Derek’s bed in the early evening after their morning together. Disoriented at having slept through most of the day, she’d stretched her tender muscles and risen to return to her own apartment, trying her best not to panic over his having left a second time without saying good-bye.

On the counter in Derek’s kitchen, she’d found a white sack of chocolate doughnuts and a carton of orange juice, sitting on top of a giant stack of magazines. Smiling cautiously, she’d ripped off the note attached to the bag with her name written on it.

Make me something. I want a reminder of you in my apartment at all times.

Of course he couldn’t just buy her flowers. That wouldn’t have been his style. Knowing the perfect piece to use, she’d retrieved it from her apartment and spent the rest of the evening in Derek’s place, munching on doughnuts and working on his project. And okay, maybe she’d snooped a little in the name of inspiration. He didn’t keep photographs around the apartment, which made her wonder about his family. In the kitchen cabinet, she’d found a shoebox full of Cubs baseball cards ruthlessly sorted by date, and an envelope tucked inside containing ticket stubs dating back to the eighties.

Her little discoveries, including his collection of old Western movies, made Ginger grow more and more curious about him and how he’d grown up. Had she been so focused on hiding her past from him, she’d overlooked the fact that he hid one, too?

Although his schedule hadn’t permitted time for any more meaningful conversations, he called and texted her throughout his workday, clearly making a concerted effort to assuage her fears.

The content of those text and phone exchanges often made her blush.

Yesterday, her phone beeped while in the produce aisle of the supermarket. Checking the screen, she’d dropped a cantaloupe upon viewing the text message from Derek.

Craving you, Ginger.

She could have texted him back that she’d thought of him constantly since their morning in bed. Or how needing him had become a constant physical ache. But she wanted to say those things to him in person, so she’d replied:

Oooh. I have two, ripe melons in my hands. Wanna see?

YES

She’d snapped a picture of the cantaloupes, sent it, and continued her shopping, chuckling to herself all the way through the frozen foods section.

That night, long after falling asleep, she’d woken to his hands stroking over her body. Up her legs, over her hips, circling her breasts, then down to caress between her thighs. Ginger always slept on her side and his naked body spooned her, back to front.

“Wake up, you little cock tease,” he’d growled against her neck. Then he’d pushed into her from behind, taking her as she moaned into the pillow.

Ginger pulled herself out of the reveries and refocused on Willa. “Yes, like me and the lieutenant.”

Her sister snorted. “Ginger, don’t ever play poker for money.”

Ten minutes later, a knock sounded at the door. Ginger made a shooing gesture to Willa, who stood in the kitchen. “Go in the other room. You have to make an entrance.” Willa rolled her eyes but did as she was told. Ginger checked through the peephole to make sure Evan stood on the other side, then pulled open the door.

“Hey, Ginger.”

“Evan.” She stepped aside to let him in, hiding her smile over how handsome he looked in his black dress pants and button-down shirt. Her sister knew how to pick ’em. “Are you driving tonight?”

“No. My friends and I chipped in on a limo. I hope that’s okay.”

“As long as you don’t use it as an excuse to drink. I don’t care what you do on your own time, but I want my sister brought home safe, Mr. Carmichael.”

Evan ran a nervous hand through his hair, messing it up further. “I’m not going to lie to you—some of my friends will probably drink tonight. But you have my word that I won’t touch a drop. I want Willa safe, too.”

She appreciated his honesty and smiled to let him know. “Okay, then. We understand each other.”

“Ginger, can I come out now?” Willa called impatiently from her bedroom.

“I suppose.”

The bedroom door opened and Ginger snapped Evan’s reaction shot on her cell phone. He looked like he’d been struck dumb at the sight of Willa coming toward him. She saved the photo of Evan with the intention of showing it to Willa the next time she felt unsure of his feelings for her. The poor kid looked two seconds away from throwing himself at her feet.