I'd Rather Not Page 11

  I left it there because I felt like this was a poignant moment in time. As if something important had just happened, yet I didn’t know what.

  “You haven’t even tried to run?” I questioned.

  “I’ve run shorter distances,” he said as he reached for his glass of tea.

  I looked up at him as he drank, not removing my head from his shoulder, but tilting my head slightly so I could watch his throat muscles work.

  God, he was sexy.

  He’d trimmed his beard in the last three days since I’d seen him.

  Not enough that I thought I would consider him as no longer having a beard, but a deep five o’clock shadow, but enough that I could still make out some skin underneath the curly brown hair of his beard.

  “Maybe when I’m up for it again,” I said as I tilted my head back down. “We can start running together. Though, I was only up to about nine miles. The fifteen-kilometer run was my favorite to run. Anything past that and I couldn’t go as fast as I wanted to go because I had to hold some gas back for later…you know?”

  His arm tightened around my shoulder. “Yeah, I know. The more mileage I see, the longer that it takes me to run it mile wise. I go from running seven-minute miles to nine-minute miles by the last one. My consistency sucks.”

  I moved my hand from his leg, and I felt him sag in relief.

  I idly wondered if I should’ve kept my hands to myself altogether, and started to move away from him, but his arm wouldn’t let me go.

  “It’s okay,” he said softly, reading my mind.

  I licked my lips. “Are you sure? I didn’t mean to overstep.”

  “I like your hands on me,” he replied. “I just don’t usually have anyone touch me like you do.”

  I stiffened. “I can keep my hands to myself…”

  “No,” he answered quickly. “It’s not that. I just…nobody’s touched me like that since the accident.”

  Experimentally, I allowed my hand to move back to his thigh, but higher up this time, not quite decent, but not quite indecent either.

  As in, if I moved my hand up six inches, I’d be in indecent territory.

  “You’re worried?” I asked.

  I didn’t add on to that question, but I knew he’d know what I meant.

  “I’m not worried,” he paused. “Per se, but I’m self-conscious. My body’s not the same as it was before. I’m scarred. I have pieces of metal still embedded in my body in places. My lower half is even uglier than my upper half, and my legs? They’re ugly.”

  I felt my heart constrict at the sincerity in his tone.

  “Do you ever wear shorts?” I wondered, smoothing my hand up and down the length of his thigh.

  Through the uniform pants that he had on, I couldn’t feel much of anything. They were too stiff and tight, leaving me unable to feel any of his imperfections.

  If he had any imperfections at all, that was.

  Oftentimes, we were always the hardest on ourselves.

  For instance, I looked in the mirror and saw a sallow, gaunt girl that could use some vitamin D and a cookie.

  But it never failed that someone would call me beautiful that day—though it mostly always was my mom.

  Maybe I should take that with a grain of salt.

  “Yeah,” he said. “I have no problem showing my body. I just haven’t had a woman close enough to inspect it yet…or touch me.”

  I laid my head against his shoulder in silence and contemplated what he’d just said.

  If I was the first woman to touch him like that, did that mean that he hadn’t done other things—more intimate things—either?

  Two minutes later, when our salads arrived, I was sad. I didn’t want to move off of him, and I didn’t want him to drop his arm from around my body.

  It was good…but leaning my head against Pace’s muscular bicep was better.

  Reluctantly, I moved away and went to my salad that I didn’t even want any longer.

  I picked up the fork and began eating little nibbles of it when a laugh from the table two over from us caught my attention.

  That was when I looked over and saw Sergeant Jackson, the asshole who’d once been Pace’s superior, sitting at the table with his wife.

  His wife that was clearly not as entertained by something Jackson had just said as he was.

  She also looked like a scared little mouse. One that would rather be anywhere than where she was.

  “She looks freaked,” I whispered so that only Pace could hear.

  “I’ve heard a lot of talk about Jackson’s wife,” he murmured back. “That he treats her like a precious jewel. Hides her away and brings her out only for special occasions. I’ve seen her one other time before today, she looked ten times better. Though, the time that I saw her was without him. She was hustling out of the police station, looking around as if she was trying to escape without being seen. We ran into each other on the steps. I lost my balance and went ass over tea kettle down the stairs. She freaked out and started crying. I ended up hugging her to tell her that everything was okay, to try to get her to stop crying. That was when Jackson showed and flipped his lid.”

  I made a worried sound in my throat.

  “Do you think he’s abusive?” I whispered.

  That was when Jackson looked over and spied us both staring.

  “Shit,” Pace said as he turned back to his salad. “Goddammit.”

  I felt my belly clench when Jackson noisily pushed his chair back and stalked toward us.

  “What are you looking at?” Jackson snarled.

  “Nothing,” Pace answered slightly distractedly, pretending to be completely enraptured with his salad.

  I took his lead and continued to eat as well, trying not to make it seem like my heart was hammering out of my chest at Jackson’s closeness.

  Or the forceful boom of his voice as he demanded to know what it was that we were staring at.

  “Didn’t look like nothing,” Jackson snapped. “It looked like you were watching my wife.”

  “I wasn’t watching your wife,” Pace said between bites. “I was looking over because you have a really loud laugh. I have a very beautiful woman in the seat next to me. Why would I look at your wife?”

  This time, hearing someone besides my mother say that I was beautiful really made me feel a whole hell of a lot different. Pure bliss rolled through me at hearing his words.

  “How’s your new department, Vineyard? Like it better yet?” he asked.

  “Yep,” he agreed. “Lots less stressful.”

  I would’ve laughed had Jackson not been standing there.

  Pace hadn’t even officially started yet.

  He’d be doing that Monday. Yet, I guess technically, this new job couldn’t be anything but less stressful. Hell, even having Jackson standing there looking at us was giving me heart palpitations.

  “Errrrm,” our waitress said from directly behind Jackson. “Excuse me.”

  That was when Jackson whirled around.

  I saw the intent in his eyes before it’d even happened.

  He deliberately took a step toward the woman, knocking the tray she was holding with his shoulder.

  Our food teetered for a few long seconds, and then went down in a mess of food and broken plates.

  “Oh, shoot.” Jackson shot us a glare. “I’m sorry about that.”

  The waitress looked flustered but waved him off. “It’s okay. I’ll just get this cleaned up.”

  Jackson returned his attention to us for a few long seconds. “Enjoy your meal.”

  I clenched my hand on Pace’s thigh.

  Hard.

  Pace caught my hand up in his and gave it a squeeze.

  “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” I asked worriedly.

  Pace’s face tipped down and his eyes met mine. They were sparkling with humor.

  “Honey,” he rumbled. “Nothing against you or anything, but you have puny ha
nds. My legs are muscular. You couldn’t hurt me if you tried.”

  My lips twitched.

  “Are you gonna finish that salad?” he asked as he turned his eyes to glance down at my half-eaten bowl of salad.

  I pushed it toward him. “No, but I drenched it in ranch. Unlike you.”

  He grinned. “That’s okay. I can still eat it.”

  And he did.

  I alternated watching him eat and watching Jackson glare holes at us, then his wife.

  And by the time Pace realized that his food wasn’t going to make it in time, I was fighting a losing battle.

  I was nervous.

  Not only did Pace make butterflies swarm in my belly, but Jackson’s stare was making me uneasy.

  “Shit,” Pace said as he looked at his watch. “If I don’t leave now, I’m going to be late.”

  I pushed him to get out of the booth. “Go. I drove myself here. I also have a wallet.”

  He opened his mouth to disagree with me, but I shook my head. “No. I have more than enough money to cover dinner for once. Go. Hurry. Then call me to tell me how it went.”

  He looked torn, but he did get out of the booth.

  However, before he was too far out, he turned, grabbed me around the neck, and then hauled me in close for a hug.

  My arms went around him almost uncertainly.

  Not because I didn’t want to hug him, but because I wanted nothing more than to wrap my arms around him and never let go.

  “Be good,” he growled. “Let me know when you get home, okay?”

  I would have even without him asking me to call.

  I was addicted to the man. Why would I waste an opportunity to talk to him by not telling him that I was home?

  That’s right, I wouldn’t.

  “Yes, sir,” I teased.

  He gave me one final squeeze, and then took a huge gulp of his sweet tea.

  With one final roll in his hand, he quickly pecked me on the nose and took off before I could process that he’d just kissed me.

  Pace Vineyard had kissed me.

  Sure, it hadn’t been the kind of kiss that I’d wanted, but that didn’t mean that I wouldn’t take anything that I could get. Especially when it came to anything Pace Vineyard related.

  I felt like a hole was being burned in my side seconds later, so I chanced a glance over at Jackson. He was staring at me hard, and I began to feel a little nervous.

  Thankfully, the food arrived not long after, and I had an excuse.

  “Can you bring me some to-go boxes?” I requested. “My, errrm, man had to leave. He had a work function. I’m just going to take this food home.”

  She smiled apologetically. “Yes, I’ll bring you some boxes. I’m sorry again that it was late.”

  I shrugged. “It’s not your fault.”

  The waitress’s eyes widened. “With that we agree. I swear he deliberately knocked that out of my hands.”

  That was because he had.

  “I think he did, too,” I whispered conspiratorially. “He used to be my man’s boss. Let’s just say that I don’t like him very much.”

  The waitress shook her head, chanced a glance over her shoulder, and blanched.

  “I’ll be right back with those boxes,” she whispered.

  That was when I saw that Jackson had once again gotten up and made his way over to the table.

  I stiffened.

  “He left you all by yourself?” Jackson smiled.

  It was an oily smile, and unpleasant.

  “He had to go to a work function,” I said. “You knocked our food down and he didn’t have time to wait.”

  My ‘thanks for that’ went unsaid.

  His smile made me want to punch him in the mouth.

  “That’s too bad,” he said. “I…”

  “Hey, sis,” Ford said, startling us both. “Sorry I’m late. Are you ready to go?”

  I looked up to see Ford decked out in head to toe black. He was wearing a black t-shirt that said ‘KPD SWAT’ on it, and black tactical pants that were tucked into black tactical boots.

  He looked all official and shit.

  “Yes,” I paused. “But I’m waiting for the check and the to-go boxes.”

  Ford glanced at Jackson and dismissed him as if he was unimpressed.

  My lips twitched when I saw Jackson stiffen in affront.

  “I don’t have much time,” he said. “I was busy when Pace called to tell me he had to leave you all alone.” Ford glanced at Jackson again. “Can I help you?”

  Jackson took that as the dismissal that it was and moved off. When he got to his table, he held his hand out for his wife, and she reluctantly took the proffered hand.

  I moved my eyes back to my brother to see his sparkling with mirth.

  “Here you go,” the waitress said as she ducked around Ford. “I got you to-go boxes and extra rolls. To-go sweet teas and the check. I didn’t charge you for dinner. I’m so sorry again.”

  That was when she looked up and realized that she’d just passed Ford, who wasn’t Jackson.

  “Ummm, hi.” She blinked. “Bye.”

  Ford’s lips tipped up in amusement as I placed cash onto the table to pay for the drinks and the tip. A big tip.

  Ford helped me collect my things and helped me to my Jeep. Once I was settled in, he ruffled my hair and hurried to his motorcycle, started it up, and headed out almost as quick as he’d arrived.

  I put the Jeep in gear and started to drive out of the parking lot.

  That was when I saw Jackson manhandling his wife as he pushed her into his truck.

  My foot came off the accelerator, but common sense reared its head.

  The woman wasn’t crying out or screaming.

  He was only pushing her into the car.

  And not altogether in a bad way.

  I wouldn’t have liked it if he’d put his hand on my head but maybe his wife didn’t mind?

  A shiver of worry slid down my spine.

  I drove out of the parking lot anyway.

  Chapter 12

  Snakes on a plane? Who the fuck came up with that horrible idea?

  -Oakley’s secret thoughts

  Oakley

  My head almost hit the dash of the Jeep when he slammed on his brakes.

  “Pace. What the fuck?” I said.

  But he was already out of the Jeep. In fact, he was circling the hood and looking down, making me frown.

  “Pace, what on Earth?” I called, about to get out of the Jeep and follow behind him.

  He disappeared from sight but came back moments later with a bright green garden snake in his hands, and a smile that could be seen from the moon on his face.

  “Look!” he said, allowing the surprisingly cute snake to slither in his hands.

  His big masculine hands that knew how to drive me insane.

  I bit my lip to keep from laughing at this man.

  This big, intimidating cop that always looked as if he was about a second away from drop-kicking someone in the face, smiling so big over a damn garden snake.

  I grinned. “Bring it closer. I want to see it.”

  He did, walking up to his door and showing me the snake.

  It really was cute, and its pink tongue slithered out constantly as it tried in vain to get away from my man—well, the man I wanted, anyway.

  “Do you have a box it could sit in for a while?” I wondered. “I want to show Ford.”

  Pace’s mouth quirked as he got into the Jeep with the snake in his hand and started driving forward down the driveway.

  “Yes,” he paused. “But don’t show him in my vicinity. I don’t want him to punch me in the face.”

  I snickered.

  Ford was deathly afraid of snakes.

  It didn’t matter if it was a harmless garden snake like the one Pace was currently holding, or a rattlesnake.

  They were all bad in his eyes. And all very
scary.

  “I…oh, that’s cute,” I said when the snake wrapped itself around the steering wheel.

  The snake then went from the steering wheel, using its long body to stretch out for the beads we’d collected from the fair that I’d immediately put on his rearview mirror.

  The snake matched perfectly with the bright green beads.

  I grinned and shook my head. “You better…”

  The snake came off the beads and crossed the dash like a bullet.

  Pace leaned over and inadvertently caused the Jeep to die when his foot slipped off the clutch.

  The Jeep jolted forward and the snake went from the dash into my lap, causing me to squeak in surprise.

  The snake’s cool, slithering body along the seam that formed between my thighs caused me to widen my legs.

  That was when the snake dropped into the floorboard and disappeared into the air conditioning vent underneath the dash.

  I licked my lips and stared at the snake’s green tail for all of two seconds before it was gone.

  That didn’t stop Pace from leaning over my body and dropping his head down between my thighs to see if he could see the snake.

  “Son of a bitch,” he muttered, dropping his face to rest on one of my thighs.

  His large arm was across me nearly where the seatbelt hit my hips. And his face was about two inches from my crotch.

  Things inside me started to tingle in earnest at having him this close.

  “I can’t believe that just happened,” he said, his lips moving against the inside of my thigh.

  I bit my lip.

  I couldn’t either.

  What else I couldn’t believe was that his face was so close to my crotch, or that he wasn’t moving like he usually did when he realized what kind of predicament we were in.

  It’d been two more weeks since that night.

  That night being the night that I’d almost kissed him. That I’d almost done other things with him.

  He’d studiously avoided everything intimate since then. He hadn’t backed off of seeing me, thank God, but he had made sure to always put the brakes on before we found ourselves in that particular situation again.

  My nipples pebbled behind the workout tank top that I’d put on that morning, and I thanked my lucky stars that a damn snake had found its way into my Jeep and disappeared into my floorboard.