Her fingers landed on his chest, lingering for a moment before she pushed to get him to relax his hold. Which in itself was more of a fight than he was comfortable admitting. But her eyes were dancing with a teasing smile, and the strange tension inside him ebbed. “I was afraid of this. The Marines made your hero-complex worse.”
Jon chuckled and let his fingers twist briefly in a loose curl of her hair. “You have no idea.”
Jenna rolled her eyes and swatted his hand away, easing herself back to her previous position. “I appreciate the concern,Jon. I do. But it’s not necessary. I’m a big girl; I can take care of myself.”
“There are a lot of things I’m capable of,” Jon said, moving his arm to rest it on the back of the sofa as he held her stare. “That doesn’t mean I’m expected to do all of them.”
Jenna blinked at him. “Meaning?”
“I’m saying I recognize that you are capable of looking after yourself, Jen, but I want to help. I can’t run a bakery, I sure as shit can’t create the recipes to keep one drawing customers, and I can’t offer to absorb the cost of yesterday’s damages. I was smart with my wages, but that doesn’t mean I’m rich. What Icando is be present moving forward, offer the skills and resources I do have, and top of that list is the promise that I can protect you. If you should need it. I can be a shoulder, or an ear, or a reliable witness, and I will more than happily apply some extra pressure to the lazy fucks in the sheriff’s office. You don’t have to be going it alone, is what I’m saying.”
Silence followed his unplanned declaration, and a foreign sense of anxiety twisted in his gut. He’d probably said too much. She’d just admitted, on a surface level, to having endured some type of domestic abuse situation in the years they’d been apart, and he’d responded by trying to force his presence into her life?
The fuck is wrong with me?He knew better.
Same as he knew he had no grounds to be so damn territorial over her. A logic that failed to seep into his system, no matter how forcefully he repeated it to himself.
Finally, Jenna leaned forward and lifted her milkshake from the table. Then she sat back, continuing to face him. “You said yourself you haven’t figured out what you’re going to do yet. It’s probably best you don’t make promises you don’t know if you’ll be in a position to keep a month from now.”
Jon grunted. “I keep my promises, Jen.”
Jenna sucked another large gulp of milkshake down in her attempt to process Jon’s words without freaking out.
Jon was … Jon. He didn’t merely exist in her presence, he flooded it. He filled every nook and cranny, drowned out no less than half the background noise, and engulfed her completely. But his embrace was strong and warm, as if it were cradling her.
She was safest there, in that comfortable place her soul always found when he was near.
That was why he was dangerous.
She lowered her dessert to her lap and nudged his leg with her toes. “You’re stalling.”
Jon blew out a heavy sigh and scrubbed a hand down his face. “I am.” He lifted the envelope from where he’d dropped it beside him, and her eyes tracked the movement. Specifically, the glimpse of ink that curved around his bicep.
She couldn’t help herself. “Tell me about that tattoo? You never had any before.”
Jon glanced down at himself and chuckled low. Then rolled up his sleeve to properly reveal the thick, black lettering. It was written at a slant, each letter equally spaced, but the ones she could see did not spell out anything she was familiar with. “Semper fidelis,” he said, trailing his finger around the curve of letters to guide her eye. “It’s the Marine Corps motto. Translates to ‘always faithful’.”
She couldn’t help her grin. “That is the perfect tattoo for you.” And she’d always thought arm-band style tattoos were hot on guys. That did not help.
He flashed her a smoldering grin. “You say that because you haven’t seen the others.”
Heat pulsed through her. Heat she wanted very badly to ignore. So, she nudged him again with her foot. “Sorry. I contributed.” Then she stuck the straw back in her mouth, hoping the melting ice cream would cool her insides.
Jon’s amusement seemed to grow.
A sudden, violent vibration beneath her butt caused Jenna to nearly leap off the sofa. She may have let out a startled yelp. She may, horrifyingly, have thrown herself bodily forward in some instinctive attempt to escape the rhythmic assault. She realized none of those things until Jon had an arm around her, her chest pressed to his, and his lips beside her ear.
“Shh, it’s all right.” His hand brushed over her ass—and the vibrating stopped.
Rather, it retreated.
“Someone named Martha is calling.”
Jenna sucked in a breath even as Jon’s grip loosened enough for her to slide off his leg.That did not just happen.She couldn’t think of a time she’d done something more humiliating.Martha?
A possibility dawned and she surged for the phone. “Ohmygod!” She didn’t bother scooting away from Jon as she hurried to connect the call. “Hello? This is Jenna.” Which she didn’t normally say. Probably she shouldn’t say.
A soft breath preceded an unfamiliar, older female tone. “I’m sorry to bother you, Ms. Hodge, but … well, I wondered if you’ve heard from Stephanie today?”
