The server returned with a fresh coffee and a menu.
Neither of them spoke until Q had added two packets of sugar to his black coffee, stirred it in, and taken his first sip. He lowered the cup, not touching his menu, and said, “That’s a shame. She was such a bright light.”
Jenna frowned.
“Have the authorities been notified?”
“They won’t listen to us,” she said before she could think better of it. It was the truth, but Drew would surely accuse her of badmouthing them to the people. “Anyway, I am sorry about the other day. Some unexpected things came up, and—”
“Yes, your lover was rather rude.” Q lifted his menu, holding it low enough that they could still maintain eye-contact if he were to look up again. “You can do better.”
Jenna reared back. “Excuse me?”
Q lifted his gaze from the menu. “You can do better,” he repeated. “You deserve a man with class. A man who knows how to compose himself.”
A laugh choked out of her as her mind flashed back to the photograph Jon had shown her while they were putting his things in his storage unit. It was a headshot type photo, upper chest, shoulders, and head, slightly angled—nothing unusual. It was a picture of Jon in uniform, the first time she’d seen Jon in uniform, and he’d explained that it was the most recent picture. In that photo, he’d looked so slick. So crisp and professional. So sharp.
And here some idiot was accusing that same man of not knowing how to compose himself.
Jenna shook her head and reached for her purse. Jon would forgive her. “I appreciate your patronage, Q,” she said, “but you’re wrong. I can’t do better. Jon is the best man I’ve ever known. Just because he’s protective of me doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with him.” She slid to her feet. “In fact, everywoman deserves a man—or a love—who feels the desire to care for and protect them. I’m only lucky to have found one.”
Q’s brow furrowed and his lips thinned.
Jenna shouldered her purse, pivoted, and stomped up to the front register. She’d intended to plant herself in that booth until Diane called to let her know her apartment was secure, but she hadn’t counted on someone coming at her like that. The diner had become too stifling. She needed air.
“You good, hun?” the server asked quietly as Jenna paid.
“Just grumpy. His coffee’s on him, to be clear.”
“That’s the guy who bought the Leeland Estate, right?”
Jenna blinked. She’d completely forgotten about that rumor. “So I’ve heard.”
The server turned her head to look down the row toward Q, then looked back at Jenna and whispered, “He moves like he has a metal pipe permanently wedged up his ass.”
Amusement doused the anger in her blood and Jenna smiled. “He kind of does.” She took her change, dropped it in the tip jar, and let herself out before anyone else could accost her. She wasn’t even down the block before her phone pinged in her purse, so she hurried to dig it out.
There was a slightly blurry photo of three men in what Jenna would have called military-inspired hunting gear, carrying bulky bags, walking across open tarmac. It looked downright cliché, and it made her smile. Beneath the photo was a short message.
Jon: Guys landed. Miss you already. You good?
Jenna: As good as I can be without you.
She added a heart and kissy face emoji in lieu of a picture. She absolutely was not going to bother him with Q’s nonsense. Response sent, she tucked her phone back into her purse and looked up to decide which direction she wanted to take at the intersection.
She was not prepared to see Drew fucking Parker stepping out of his SUV and onto the sidewalk, aimed to intercept her. Her lungs seized and she came to an abrupt stop.
I should have stayed in the diner.
“Jenna, Jenna, Jenna,” Drew drawled as he approached, a smug smirk on his face. “You’ve been a bad girl.”
Her stomach rolled and bile bubbled up her throat at his choice in words. “I haven’t done a damn thing.” She wanted to add an insult or three, but something told her not to.
He clicked his tongue at her and stopped just inside her personal space. The confidence of a man who held victory in his hands shone in his eyes. “You went where you shouldn’t have.”
Jenna frowned and took a step backward. “I did not. Don’t go throwing around accusations just because you don’t like people.”
“Come on,” he said, “I’m an officer of the law. I would never do that.” Everything about his expression assured that he would, and he knew he was spewing shit. He settled his hands on his slanted, straining belt. “Now, I know you broke into your precious bakery, Jenna. Don’t try and deny it.”
