Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 65437 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 327(@200wpm)___ 262(@250wpm)___ 218(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65437 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 327(@200wpm)___ 262(@250wpm)___ 218(@300wpm)
Mary barked and he froze in place.
Owen planted himself in the chair opposite, looked up from his official-looking clipboard, and dropped it. He scooped it off his feet, murmuring “Of course.”
Mary whined and nuzzled between Owen’s sturdily parted legs, and Owen petted her, grimacing. “I know, I know.”
Meanwhile, Jason managed to reseat himself and his dignity. He smiled widely. Nothing strange here at all. Just regular ol’ drowning in flannel Carl.
Owen eyed his lips, and Jason stretched them wider.
“Do you need a minute for the bathroom?”
Quickly, Jason dropped the smile. “You wanted to chat about something I’ve done?”
A pause. “Is there anything you think I should know about?”
Jesus Carl, what have you got yourself into? “Not that I can think of?”
A massively arched brow. “Is that right?”
“Yep.”
Mary barked.
“I mean, no?”
“Go on.”
“I didn’t run someone over, did I? During any of my speeding antics?”
Owen set the clipboard on a freestanding shelf, leaned forward with his elbows on his thighs, and clasped his fingers together. “My original reason for this chat had nothing to do with questionable driving skills.”
Original reason? There was a new one? Jason picked invisible lint from his soggy flannel. “What, ah, would that chat have been in reference to?”
A snort. But any traces of it vanished when Jason lifted his eyes. Instead, Owen was rubbing his brow like he’d been bestowed with a rather grand headache. “It would have been in reference to Pete and Nick’s upcoming nuptials.”
Oh.
The big day. The whole reason he was here. Conning a cop.
Oh God, he was going to end up in cuffs, wasn’t he?
Jason rubbed pearls of sweat off his nape. “What about the nuptials?”
“Never mind that now. We have more important things to discuss.” Owen looked him squarely in the eyes, and Jason was shot through with a guilty shiver. It swished around in his chest and dove lower, and it was making him tap his foot like he had as a kid when he first started school, or before a big exam. If this continued too long, he’d start breathing funny.
“More important things. Right. Right. Like—” Jason searched around him for something innocuous to suggest, but a dark supply cupboard full of photocopying paper and a limp plant weren’t much inspiration. “Um, how my convenience store could be more convenient? Deal on donuts maybe? I’m sure I can make that magic happen.”
Owen leaned in, all that weight crafting a rich wall of heat that definitely made Jason breathe funny. “Something’s different about you.”
“I’ve been a bit feverish!”
“Hm?”
“Gets me croaky . . . I end up doing things I normally wouldn’t.”
“Like hiking in the rain?”
Um . . . “Yep.”
The quiet laughter that followed sounded more like a warning than a suggestion of humour. “Let’s try again.”
Shit, shit, shit.
He’d been made. And day one had barely started. His breathing came out shallow and quick; his heart was not made for all this dark-eyed intensity.
He looked away.
Looked back.
Looked away again.
That . . . intensity shifted and Owen’s voice rumbled, lower, “Is there—” just enough pause for Jason to lose his breath completely “—anything I should know about?”
“I’m not a criminal! Promise!” He came off his chair in his impassioned declaration, damp thighs jolting toward Owen, still curved in his seat. Somehow Jason halted an inch before smacking his crotch in the cop’s face. Jesus. He was . . . he was not having the most graceful day. In his peripheral vision, Owen’s colleagues turned their heads in interest.
Owen rose to his feet, raising a brow, his lips . . . quirking? “A name would be nice.”
“Oh.” He lowered his voice, almost to a whisper. “Um . . . here’s the thing though . . .”
A long look.
“Is there a way that no one finds out about this? Because it’s a very sensitive issue. I haven’t ditched Carl in a shallow grave and assumed his life or anything, this is mutually agreed. And I used my own passport to get here . . .”
Something akin to a-ha! sparkled in Owen’s eyes.
Jason glanced toward their audience. Too close for comfort. If he was going to spill, he had to make very sure the truth didn’t flood the whole town. “Is there an interrogation room you can take me to?”
“Not currently.”
“What about the holding area?”
“You want to tell me behind bars?”
“Anywhere we have—” Jason glanced around them, whispering, “privacy.”
“This is as private as it gets.”
Jason gnawed his lip, eyed the supply closet and grabbed a handful of Owen’s blazer. The aim was to haul him into it, but wow. None of that muscle budged.
Slowly, Owen looked down to where Jason had curled his fist, scrunching fabric. “Grabbing an officer is an offense, hmm?”
Jason raised both his hands in horrified surrender. In his panic, his voice got . . . breathless. “Manhandle me then. Shove me into the closet. I’ll give you what you want.”