Page 33 of Knot the Stray

"Stubborn as an ox." I carve off a corner of the dense cheesecake with a plastic fork. "He believed if you don't know how to take care of your own gear, you can't be trusted to take care of other folks. Out here in the open flatlands, a bad alternator or an empty tank in a winter prairie blizzard kills people. I spent my whole childhood riding in the front seat of his cruiser, watching him pull folks out of ditches between La Junta and Pueblo, making sure nobody froze waiting on a tow."

I lift the fork toward her lips. "Taught me that a badge means jack shit without trust. You want people to count on you, you show up every single time without excuses."

Jessie parts her lips, taking the bite from the fork. A satisfied hum vibrates in her throat, her eyes fluttering shut for a second.

Leaning back on her hands, she licks a crumb from her bottom lip. "That's dangerous. Edward make this?"

"Bought it from Luca's." I feed her a second bite, watching the dark flecks in her eyes catch the afternoon sun.

Duke pulls his soaked body out of the water, shakes, and showers the dry grass before collapsing into a sunny patch of dirt, exhausted.

Shifting closer on the blanket, my shoulder knocks against hers. Her vanilla scent blooms, wrapping around us. I swore I wouldn't push about deadline, and I plan to keep my word. But laying out a real future doesn't break the rules.

I keep my eyes on the water. "The deck needs work when the frost breaks in March. Winter ruins the south boards. Edward wants to expand the footprint, wrap the cedar all the way around the kitchen side."

Jessie traces the rim of her mug. "Big job."

I turn my head, studying her profile. "Takes time. Gives us room for a long table outside. Nolan wants to till an acre near the fence line for fresh produce. Tomatoes, squash, peppers."

I track her expression, searching for panic. Talking about next spring plants roots past her remaining fourteen days. I don't want a temporary bedmate. I want an equal partner to share a life with.

Jessie watches the current, her voice quiet and steady. "Tomatoes demand full sun. And deer treat gardens out here like an open buffet. You need an eight-foot fence, or they'll strip the vines bare in one night."

I bump her shoulder. "Noted. I'll put you in charge of the deer perimeter. You know local wildlife better than anyone in the county."

Jessie goes still. The quiet stretches between us. My heart hammers against my ribs, bracing for the walls to slam shut, waiting for her to remind me she won't be here in spring.

Instead, she lets out a slow breath. Shifting her weight, she leans flush against my side, resting her head against my shoulder.

A surge of relief hits my chest. I wrap my arm around her waist, pulling her tight against my ribs. I press my face into her dark hair, breathing in the vanilla scent of her quiet trust.

The modern cabin sits a few miles up the dirt access road from our picnic spot at the creek. Reserving the property for the weekend guarantees her an escape from the prying eyes of the locals and the stress of the clinic. We both need a night away from the town limits to decompress in privacy.

I grab the heavy cooler from the truck bed and carry it up the wooden steps. I punch a short code into the keypad. The lock flashes a bright green. Pushing the heavy front door open grants us access to the front room. Duke bounds inside, his nails clicking against the hardwood floor. I haul the cooler over the threshold.

Setting the cooler on the granite kitchen counter frees my hands. I pour a scoop of kibble into a travel bowl for Duke and fill a second dish with water. The retriever gets right to work on his dinner.

Leading Jessie down the short hallway, we step into the spacious master bedroom. I hit a wall switch near the door. A luxury gas fireplace ignites in the corner, casting a warm, flickering glow over the king-size bed and the plush rugs.

Leaving her to explore the room, I head back to the kitchen. I dig into the cooler, grabbing two glasses and a chilled bottle of white wine. I also grab a small plastic container of chocolate-covered strawberries and a can of whipped cream. I carry the stash back to the bedroom and set everything on the small wooden table near the fire.

Jessie sits on the edge of the mattress, watching me with curious dark eyes.

I pop the lid off the strawberries, pick a ripe one by the green stem, and step between her knees. I hold the chocolate-covered fruit to her lips. She parts her mouth and takes a bite. A drop of dark chocolate smears across her bottom lip. She swipes it away with her tongue, maintaining direct eye contact. A satisfied hum vibrates in her throat.

"I brought a game." I pull a deck of prompt cards from my back pocket and toss them onto the mattress next to her. "We take turns drawing a card and asking a question. You answer, or you strip one piece of clothing. One article at a time."

Jessie finishes the strawberry, licking a spot of chocolate from her thumb. "I bet I clean you out in ten minutes. Mechanics play ruthless poker."

"We'll see." I sit beside her, grabbing the deck. I draw the top card. "I go first. What ranks as the most illegal thing you ever pulled off?"

Jessie rests her chin on her hand, raising a skeptical eyebrow. "You wear a badge. Confessing a felony to a cop sounds like a trap."

"The badge stays in the truck." I lean closer, crowding her space a fraction to show my hand. "Out here, we operate on total honesty. You give me the truth, or you take something off."

She studies my expression. A wicked spark lights up her dark eyes. "I picked the padlock on a junkyard gate, stole an abused pitbull chained to an engine block, and drove him across state lines to a rescue."

A rush of intense pride hits my chest. "You make a damn good menace. I love it."