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She fastens her seatbelt, adjusts the mirror so she can keep an eye on me, and pulls back onto the road with the kind of controlled, emotionless precision that makes my pulse spike in a whole new way. The cuffs are tight but not painful, and I do a little test wriggle to see if I can get comfortable. Spoiler alert—I can’t.

The drive is only a few miles, but it’s the longest car ride of my life. I clear my throat. “What’s going to happen to my car?”

She doesn’t look at me. “It’s going to be towed to the impound lot. After you bond out, you can pick it up there.”

“Great.” Fucking perfect. I should care more about what could be happening to my brand-new car, but all I’m worried about right now is the stunning woman sitting in the front seat.

She grunts in reply. I can’t handle the silence anymore so I decide to try again, because clearly, I’m a glutton for punishment.

“I was actually headed to my parents’ for brunch,” I offer, as if this will somehow endear me to her. “I have three brothers and we’re all firemen.” Like that will help my case.

“I know,” she says. “Your brother, Beckett, gave a safety talk at my orientation.”

“Oh.” Well, fuck me. I’m so goddamn tongue-tied, I don’t even know what else to say.

We ride in silence for a minute, just the sound of the road and the faint click of her turn signal as she takes the shortcut through town to the station.

I figure I have one last shot at not making a complete ass of myself. “So, you know all about me, but I don’t know anything about you.”

She finally looks at me, and her eyes are dead serious. “What would you like to know?”

“Your first name, for starters.” At least she’s speaking to me.

She inhales, the faintest of sighs. “Isla.” I file away that information as we pull into the station. She parks in the shade and comes around to open my door. There’s something gentle in the way she helps me out, one hand on my elbow to keep me from face-planting onto the curb.

Inside, it’s all linoleum and bad lighting, the front desk manned by a civilian clerk who barely glances up as Isla leads me down the hall to processing. The only other person in sight is a janitor waxing the floor, who gives me a bored look before going back to his mop.

She uncuffs me long enough to take my fingerprints and a mugshot, which is every bit as humiliating as I’d expected.

Afterward, she leads me to a holding room without windows. There’s just a plain desk with four very uncomfortable-looking chairs and a vending machine that’s older than me. “You can use the phone on the desk to make your one call,” she says and turns to walk away. I stare after her, mouth half-open, and for the first time in my life, I understand exactly what my brothers meant when they explained you don’t see it coming until it’s already got you by the throat.

As the door shuts, I think about how quickly I went from “never been arrested” to “desperately wanting to get arrested again if it means getting cuffed by Isla Merrill.” The love at first sight bug has bitten me.

I lean back, look up at the water-stained ceiling, and wonder what it’s going to take to break through that fortress of hers. Whatever it is, I’m all in.