Protecting Her Curves Read online

  The thought is quick and brutal in its intensity. Apparently, there’s nothing like coming face to face with your own mortality to make you rethink your complete lack of sexual experience. Though, in his defense, Jackson and his chiseled features could probably make me fling my virginity right out the window even if he hadn’t just swooped in and saved me from Doc Holiday with a BB gun.

  “Life’s been rough on him the last couple years,” Jax goes on. “Not a lot of options once you drop out of basic training. I’ve seen it happen before.”

  “You were in the military?” I look over at him.

  It makes sense. The strong build, the quick way he takes control.

  “Army.” Jax nods. “Combat medic. Spent a little over a year in Kabul before I caught some shrapnel to the shoulder and got sent home.”

  He says it easily, casually. But there’s a hint of pain behind his grey-green eyes that makes me want to gather him up in a long hug. Chalk it up as another first for me. I’ve been accused of a lot of things in my life; being overly sentimental has never been one of them.

  “I’m sorry,” I say simply. It feels inadequate, but I can’t think of anything better.

  Jax shrugs nonchalantly.

  “Don’t be. I’m back home, with a job I love and three meals a day. Lot of these guys can’t say the same.” He inclines his head towards the window. “I try to make it out here at least once a week. They’ve got a great volunteer program with emotional support animals, and a meal delivery service for some of the vets on the outskirts of town.”

  So it isn’t enough that he’s gorgeous and built like a Greek god, the guy has to be a model citizen, too? Way to make the rest of us look bad.

  “What’s going to happen to him?” I turn towards my window as Jax starts to maneuver the patrol car back onto the road.

  “Matt? He’ll get a meal and a warm place to sleep for tonight. I made some calls, got him a spot at the rehab center in Katy. Rest is up to him.”

  I watch the countryside roll by as Jax drives, the sun soothing and warm against my face. It isn’t until we turn down a tree-lined dirt road that I realize I have no idea where we are. Or where we’re going.

  “Thought you could use a quiet meal too,” Jax explains, seeming to pick up on my confusion.

  There don’t seem to be any golden arches out here, but I let it slide for now. Especially since the pine trees soaring on either side of the car look like they’ve been plucked right out of a Bob Ross painting and spread out just for us. An instant later, the edges of a small, sparkling lake come into view just beyond the nose of the patrol car. The tires crunch to a stop on a bed of pine needles just a few feet from the tranquil water.

  I step out of the car and arch into a deep stretch. It feels good to ease some of the morning’s tension out of my shoulders and back. The crisp air beneath the shade of the pine trees feels even better; fresh and clean in a way I can’t remember since… ever.

  The way Jax is looking at me when I meet his eyes again is just as unfamiliar.

  And even more moving than the scenery.

  There’s a spark of electric heat lighting his eyes, an almost ethereal glow to the hazel hue. I can’t recall anyone else ever looking at me with that much hunger. A flush of heat creeps up from the round collar of the uniform I’m still wearing to color my cheeks. The smile he flashes lets me know he didn’t miss my reaction.

  A southern gentleman through and through, Jackson doesn’t mention it though. Instead, he grabs something out of the car— the bag Edith gave him before leaving True Grits earlier— and walks around to the front of the car.

  “This place keeps surprising me.” I join him, watching with amusement as he slides up onto the hood of the black and white. “I swear, every time I turn around Texas looks different.”

  A slow smile spreads across Jax’s face as he motions for me to join him. I manage to hop up next to him without falling off or injuring myself— just barely. From our still-warm perch, the lake spreads out in front of us. Here and there, fat ducks make languid circles along the otherwise glassy top.

  “It’ll keep doing that,” he agrees. I can’t tell if he sounds more proud or bemused by his own ever-changing homeland. “You been in town long?”

  I shake my head as Jax makes quick work of opening the styrofoam take out container and spreading out a couple of napkins like a makeshift placemat. Even after being wrapped up and sitting a while, the smell of bacon and warm pancakes is tempting enough to make my stomach growl loudly.

  “I make it a point never to stay anywhere long.” I take another deep breath of fresh air and let Jax finish slicing his short stack neatly in half with the plastic knife.

  “Oh?” He raises a dark eyebrow at me before drowning our brunch in enough syrup to trap a bear. “You on the run, young lady? Should I run your prints? Frisk you for weapons?”

  Despite his teasing tone, I can’t help the way my body reacts to the idea. What would Jackson’s talented hands feel like, slowly working their way up my entire body?

  “No guns on me, airsoft or otherwise. I’m much too clumsy for that. I’d shoot off my own toe. Hell, I once gave myself a concussion with a sprinkler— don’t ask.” I laugh with a shake of my head.

  Jax hands me the fork and for the next few minutes, we simply eat in companionable silence. It’s nice. He doesn’t push or prod. He doesn’t even laugh when I spill butter and maple syrup down the front of my shirt. Well, he doesn’t laugh much.

  “I grew up in foster care,” I say after a bit. Jackson doesn’t say anything, just continues chewing his bacon slowly. But I can tell by the way his eyes have shifted off the lake and onto my face that he’s listening.

  “Boston, mostly. Couple weeks before my eighteenth birthday I decided I didn’t want to stay in the group home anymore. I was about to age out anyway, so I just left.” I shrug a shoulder. “Spent some time in Chicago. Worked as a roadie for a blues band in Memphis for a while. Been to the west coast— I try not to stay anywhere for longer than a year.”

  Jax closes up the empty box, pushing it away from us. I hadn’t realized how hungry I was.

  Or how starved for a genuine human connection.

  It feels good to simply sit and talk. Despite having just met him, there’s something reassuring about Jackson Bell. A comfort to be found in his quiet strength.

  “You’re tough, Sage. Brave as shit, too. I don’t know that I’d have the courage to just take on the world alone like that.” Jax’s voice is somber, all the playful teasing gone from his tone.

  I stop attempting to wipe off the front of my shirt and look over at him.

  “You’ve been to war, Jax. I’m not the brave one here.”

  He gives me that beautiful smile again.

  “Oh, you are, Red. You really are. There aren’t many people willing to just take on the world like that.” His voice is tinged with what sounds like genuine admiration.

  The blush is back before I can stop it, fueled by the compliment and deepened by the easy nickname. There may be at least six different versions of southern twang, but Jackson’s is my favorite. Just a hint of slow and easy to his voice, like the sun taking its time setting over a hidden lake in the middle of nowhere.

  “We should get you home,” he says. “You’ve had a rough day.”

  “Honestly, this was the easiest day I’ve had since starting at the diner— even with the near shootout.”

  His laugh ripples across the lake, and for the first time in years, I feel like maybe I might have found something that feels like home.

  Chapter 4

  Jackson

  The bluest eyes in Texas are haunting me tonight. Like the stars that fill the midnight sky, her memory fills my mind. — Restless Heart, ‘The Bluest Eyes in Texas’

  As much as I want to see her the second I wake up, I let Sage sleep in the next day. The sun is well into its morning climb up the sky before I’m knocking on her door.

  After I dropped her off last ni
ght, I went by the station and filled out some paperwork. Then I spent a hard hour in my garage, working out. I called my brother Spencer and listened to the trials and tribulations of a K-9 officer in the big city for over an hour.

  Even then, physically and mentally exhausted, it’d been nearly impossible to get any actual sleep. Sage’s voice, her smile, her laughter— it had all gone round and round in my head for hours.

  I can’t remember the last time I spent so much time with someone, anyone, just talking the way I had with Sage. I’ve never met anyone like her before.

  It takes three knocks and one ring of the doorbell before I get a response.

  “Go ‘way.” Her voice is muffled by the door and froggy from having just woken up, but it still sets my heart racing.

  “This is the police, ma’am. Open up. I’ve got breakfast.”

  The door wrenches open. Sage blinks up at me through the harsh early morning light. Her cropped copper hair is sleep-rumpled and a pillow line creases the softness of her cheek. An oversized black band tee hangs nearly to the curve of her shapely thighs, dotted with several bleach stains and at least one tear. Framed in the doorway, she’s so beautiful it hurts.

  “Gimme.” She holds her hand out, and I drop my bag of donuts into her expectant palm.

  “Shipley’s. Best donuts in Texas.” I say with a smile. Sage opens up the bag and breathes in the perfume of glazed goodness before glancing back up at me.

  “Mmm, thanks.” She says, a grin beginning to edge its way onto her sleepy features.

  “You’re welcome,” I respond with an even bigger smile.

  “Now,” I make an exaggerated show of checking the time on my watch. “You’ve got, oh, half an hour to get ready.” My tone is teasing. It’s hard to drag my eyes away from Sage’s pouty pink lips, currently dusted with sparkling white sugar.

  I can picture, with startling clarity, how good it would feel to taste her mouth and not stop.

  “Half an hour till what?” Her question is slightly muffled around a bite of delicious donut. Again, I have to drag my thoughts out of the gutter as they take the express train to the image of Sage’s mouth full and muffled by something else entirely.

  “Until the fair opens.” I lean one arm against her door frame, hunkering down a bit to be at eye level with the short, stacked redhead. “You’ve never been to the Fort Bend county fair. I have the day off, so I thought I’d show you around.”

  She chews thoughtfully for a bit, considering. The pale column of her throat works as she swallows a mouthful.

  “Come on,” I go on persuasively. “We almost got shot at yesterday. We have a moral obligation to have some fun today. Let our hair down.”

  I give her short pixie cut a glance before grinning at her again.

  “Well, maybe not our hair, but somebody's.”

  Sage’s mossy eyes are suspicious slits, her face a mask as she takes another big bite of delicious sugary yumminess. She swipes her tongue across her bottom lip to catch a stray bit of icing and I feel a corresponding throb in my Wranglers.

  I want to take a bite of her deliciousness.

  “Alright, Officer,” she says after finishing her treat. “I’ll come along. But please tell me you left your cop gear at home today. I have a strict one near-death experience a week limit.”

  I gesture broadly at myself, indicating the plain white tee-shirt and jeans I’m wearing. No badge or weapon in sight.

  “Nothing up my sleeves. You can check if you like.” I give one bicep a bit of a flex, just to make the shirt even tighter.

  “Maybe later.” She murmurs.

  Sage rubs one thumb across her bottom lip, dislodging a sticky bit of sugar before sucking it off casually. The image sears itself in my mind as the most erotic moment of my life so far.

  “I might hold you to that.” My voice is gruffer than I intend, deep with need. I soften it with a smile.

  “Good. Because I don’t do handcuffs on the first date.” She gives me the sauciest smirk I’ve ever seen on anyone and shuts the door firmly in my face.

  “Go save a kitten from a tree or something. I need a shower, and enough time to become a human being, so don’t show your face here again for at least an hour.” Her muffled voice gets even fainter as she walks away from the closed door.

  Images of Sage’s stripping down, her gorgeous body soapy, wet and utterly naked fill my head and make my other head swell. Good thing she left when she did or the bulge in my jeans might scare her off.

  With a laugh, I salute the closed door.

  “Ma’am yes ma’am,” I say with a sarcastic salute before turning to go.

  She might not know it yet, but this’ll be the last first date Sage Hudson will ever go on.

  “I’m sorry, no. That booth is not selling ‘Deep Fried Butter.’” Sage says. Her tone is a mixture of incredulity, admiration, and sheer horror.

  “That’s a 10-4, ma’am. It does, they do, and it’s delicious.” I glance down at the curvy ginger beside me, a teasing smile slipping onto my face.

  “You want to try it?” I ask.

  “Butter is what you fry things with. That sounds not just crazy, but downright impossible. Of course we’re going to try it, Jax.” Sage answers, humor dancing in her bright green eyes.

  The county fair was already in full swing by the time we got here, booths full of tempting fried foods and rigged games bracketed on both sides by rattling death-trap rides. Here and there the fairground is dotted with local artisans selling homemade crafts, or preening animals boasting blue ribbons for one thing or another. The scent of popcorn and cotton candy filter through the air, punctuated by the shouts and laughter of revelers.

  Hours later and the sky is beginning to grow dark. The sun is huge, lowering slowly in a swirl of oranges and pinks against the wooden stage at the far end of the grounds where a B-list country band is playing all of their greatest hits.

  Sage is still adamantly refusing my every offer to take a ride in one of the more energetic rides, citing the fact that they were assembled in under an hour by carnival workers.

  I have to admit her logic is sound, but teasing her about it is too much fun.

  “What about that one?” I point at what is essentially a human trebuchet, catapulting strapped-in couples into the stratosphere.

  The look she gives me is worth several choice words.

  “Come on, Sage. Live a little.” I laugh around a mouthful of crispy batter. “Exotic cuisine is nothing compared to a slow ride on a Ferris wheel. How dangerous can that be?”

  Sage rolls her eyes so hard she almost chokes on her fried butter.

  “Let’s see. They could have put the screws in wrong. Or skipped a few altogether— you ever buy an Ikea shelf, Jax?”

  That gets a laugh out of me.

  “Or they haven’t been inspected in years.” She begins to tick points off on her fingers while I chuckle.

  “The safety inspector is an old high school buddy. Trust me, they’re safe.” I tap my chest with one thumb, giving her my best reassuring grin.

  Sage doesn’t look reassured.

  “Would I do something to risk your life so soon after saving it?” I ask innocently.

  She doesn’t say a word, just holds up her half-eaten treat.

  “Every single thing we’ve eaten today is definitely taking our lives in our hands, Jax.”

  “Come on. I promise, no matter what happens, I’ll keep you safe.” I say seriously.

  That gives Sage pause, her attitude shifting from stubborn belligerence to thoughtful quiet.

  “Alright. One ride, so you better make it worth it.”

  I wrap one arm around her waist, guiding us into the Ferris wheel line. She leans into me, her curves pressing perfectly against the side of my body.

  “Trust me, Sage. It’ll be the best ride of your life.”

  Chapter 5

  Sage

  So baby let’s sell your diamond rings. And buy some boots and faded jeans and go awa
y. — Waylon Jenning, ‘Luckenbach Texas’

  “You’re not what I was expecting, you know,” I wind my fingers between Jax’s as we settle into the gently rocking seat.

  It’s the truth. I haven’t had a whole lot of experience with men in general or law enforcement in particular. My few brushes with both haven’t exactly gone well— call it a hazard of living on the go— but Jax is unlike anyone I’ve ever met. Funny, caring, and sweet with the kind of rough, powerful edges that make me melt inside. He keeps me on my toes, challenges me in the best ways.

  “Oh? You were expecting to talk to a lot of cops?” He responds with a sly grin. “I knew you were trouble.”

  I laugh, shaking my head. His hand gives mine a gentle, comforting squeeze as the Ferris wheel kicks into motion.

  “No, but every cop I’ve ever met, seen, or heard of was a grade-A premium asshole. What’s the saying, ‘power corrupts’? They’ve always seemed like bullies to me.” I say as I lean against him, resting my head on his shoulder. Jax is big enough that the car is crowded, but I don’t mind being close to him at all.

  I’d like to be a lot closer.

  “Happy to prove you wrong. We’re just people too, trying to do a job. I’ll admit I’ve met a few who could use some better training, but it’s a hard job.”

  I nod against him without looking up, my eyes fixed on the horizon as the entire fair slowly climbs into view. In the purple-pink twilight, it feels like I can see forever.

  “Wow. It really does spread out a bit, doesn’t it?” I whisper, awestruck by the neon lights stretching out as far as the eye can see.

  “Everything’s bigger in Texas,” He answers with a teasing grin.

  “I’ll say. What do they feed you down here to grow you this big?” I give his massive bicep a squeeze in response. “Other than fried butter?”

  The warmth of Jax’s strong body pressed against me is such a massive distraction that I almost don’t hear his response. The tension between us has been growing stronger by the minute. I know I’m not the only one feeling it.