My muscles are aching from the comedown, skin hypersensitive, throat raw from...Fuck, can’t even think about that without gagging. And some mean fuck is taking a sledgehammer to my temples in rhythm with my too-fast pulse.
The officer smiles politely, like he totally fails to notice how wrecked I am.
“This’ll only take a minute.” He waves toward the kitchen stool where Austin’s lanky frame is slouched. “We’re done here,” he says, cocking his head.
Austin tucks a red curl behind his ear before tightening his arms over his chest again.
“I’ll be in touch if I have any further questions,” the officer adds more firmly when Austin stays seated.
Austin throws iPhone a look, and then struts out of the kitchen, giving me some bombastic fucking side-eye as he passes. Not surprised. Him and Jace would castrate themselves for Ezra if my brother so much as hinted at it.
“You too, Thaddeus.”
I choke on my own spit. “What the fuck?”
iPhone—fucking Thaddeus?—glares at the officer and then throws me a warning look as he rushes out of the kitchen.
“Not a word,” he mutters, pointing at me with a hard finger. “Not one fucking word.”
Jesus.
My eyes are still wide as I sit reluctantly on the stool still warm from Austin’s butt. I immediately stand up again, grimacing.
Disgusting.
I cross my arms over my chest too, then remember some bullshit about how that makes you look defensive, so I drop my hands in front of my crotch instead. I really,reallywish I wasn’t wearing Rooke’s clothes right now. His smell is fucking everywhere.
I can still taste?—
My ass thumps down so hard my teeth click.
The officer ignores the fact that I’m slowly going insane as he makes notes in a little black pocket book with a stub of pencil. I bet he’s gonna lick the tip any second?—
Called it.
“You new here?” I ask when the tension in the room is seconds away from suffocating me. “Haven’t seen you around before.”
“You know everyone in town, Mr. Jordan?” Polite, but in a weirdly condescending way.
Damn. So much for small talk.
I give him another scan. He’s about Rooke’s age, maybe a little older. The crow’s feet beside his eyes could be from squinting in the sun, going from his tanned face. He’s got some meat on his bones, but it’s hard to tell if there’s fat or muscle under his clothes.
His uniform doesn’t look quite right either.
“You even from Agony Hollow—” I catch sight of the shiny badge on his chest. “Thatcher?”
“DeputyThatcher,” he corrects politely.
He flips his little book closed with a flick of his wrist and gives me a wan smile. “And no, I’m not from around here. Just got in this week. Still looking for a decent cup of coffee, in fact.”
“Pie Palace.” Why not buddy up to this guy? It might just help my cause. “Not just the best coffee, but the best damn pie too.”
He tilts his head as if making a mental note.
“Where you from?” I ask, more than a little desperate to keep this guy from asking any of the questions I can see rattling around in his head.
Judging from his clean-cut look, and that momma’s boy haircut, he’s ready to go by the book. And I’m not sure what that means for me.
