“Your ex?”
“Yeah. I knew it would be hard—entering any force as a female officer. As much as I tried to compartmentalize Marco’s reaction, he planted seeds that made me self-conscious about how I’d fit in. I came into the job assuming everyone was waiting for me to mess up.”
Jesse smiles softly at me across the cab. “I’ve always felt that way, and I’m not even a female officer.”
“You’re a great cop,” I tell him. I want to say,and a great man, but I hold my tongue.
“So are you,” he says. “I’m glad you joined the force here.”
Outside, the streetlights glow yellow on snowbanks. Inside the cruiser, the tension between us crackles, or at least that’s what it feels like from my side of the patrol car. Jesse’s eyes are on the road, his quiet presence a temptation and a comfort.
I remind myself of Memaw’s advice.
Breadcrumbs.
I’m going to leave a trail of them.
Because a man like Jesse doesn’t come along every day, and I want him to know I’m definitely interested in pursuing more with him.
Chapter 11
Jesse
I know nobody likes me.
Why do we have a holiday season to emphasize it?
~ A Charlie Brown Christmas
Alexand I have been on shift together for five hours. And now we’re on our dinner break, eating takeout from Dairy Land in the front seat of our patrol car. The glass fogs with the heat from the vents and our breath in the enclosed cab, blurring the snow-dusted world beyond the windshield.
“I will regret this tomorrow,” she says around a hefty bite of a chili dog.
“Shhh,” I say, smiling over at her. “You’re ruining my denial.”
She laughs, covering her mouth with the back of her hand. I watch her, increasingly unable to hide the fact that I’m attracted to her. It’s not just her looks, or the way her face lights up when she smiles. It’s not that accent. It’s her—the way she sees me, her passion about her dream, the ease between us, her sense of humor.
“What are you looking at?” She asks, wiping her chin and cheeks in flustered swipes as if she’s certain she’s made a mess and that’s what has my attention.
“You,” I say, letting my declaration hang in the air.
We’re at work. Even if we’re on break, we’re still sitting in the cruiser. I’m hyperaware of the protocol for behavior on the job. While we don’t have any actual rules against dating a coworker, I want to stay within the lines. And, as kind and caring as Alex has been to me, I’m not sure I have a read on where she stands with regards to us. Are we just friends? Or is she possibly interested in more?
She just stares back at me, her eyes soft and inviting.
“How’s your burger?” she asks, stealing one of my fries out of the container sitting on the console.
“Did you just ask me that to distract me while you swiped a fry?”
“Are you going to arrest me?” she teases, making a show of grabbing another and popping it in her mouth.
“Recidivism is not a laughing matter.”
She laughs. “Oh, but it is!” Her eyes crinkle at the corners and her laughter rings through the cab. “That was such a good comeback.”
“Thanks. I have been known to think on my feet on occasion.”
“I believe it.” She smiles again.
