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Inside, I open one of the two cells and usher her in. I’m relieved we got the drunk and disorderly moved to the borough jail earlier this morning. Aurora should never have to put up with someone like Johnny-spits-when-he-slurs. The jackass didn’t know how to shut up.
Aurora wraps her hands around two bars, leaning her head against the iron. I can’t see the marks from this vantage point. I flick my gaze away so she won’t catch me looking for them. It doesn’t calm the anger churning in my stomach.
“I’d like my phone call,” she demands.
“As soon as I get you booked.”
“How long will that take?”
“Longer if you keep talking.”
“Don’t you have people for that?”
“It’s a small operation here, Gray.”
Aurora drops to the hard bench, pretending to zip her lips and throw away the key. Lips that are still shiny from that damned cherry lip gloss. I start the paperwork, desperate to distract myself from the marks on her wrist until I’ve calmed the fuck down. If it’s the last thing I do, I’ll find out if someone’s responsible for hurting her. If I do, God help them. I might just be inclined to take off the badge and deal with them.
CHAPTER3
Aurora
My back aches from sitting on this hard bench, waiting for Garrett to book me properly into jail. What’s taking him so long, anyway? As much as I try to keep my eyes off him, it’s hard when his desk is literally ten feet from my cell. I’ve been envying his cushy office chair for almost an hour. The whole setup reminds me of The Andy Griffith show Grandma Rose likes to binge on the weekends.
“Don’t you need my fingerprints?” I sound like I’m pouting, but I don’t care. The adrenaline of the day is wearing off. One that started out with promise, had some bumps along the way, and felt like it was headed for salvageable victory. Until I got pulled over. Grandma Rose might actually be blowing up my phone now that I’m over an hour late for my shift. We’re shorthanded on wait staff as it is.
“Don’t forget your mug shot.” The jerk sounds like he’s enjoying this too much, flashing me a rare smile. I’d like to slap it right off his smug face.Or kiss it away…
“That’s…not necessary, right?” If I know how to look up mugshots online, I’m willing to bet my sisters do too. And if they catch wind that I got arrested, I’m doomed. “You said I could be bailed out within the hour—”
“Mug shot is part of the process.” Garrett struts to the cell at long last, taking his fucking time unlocking the door. As if we have all damn day. “And before you ask, no you can’t reapply your makeup.”
“Ha, ha.” Maybe someday, I’ll look back and find this whole mess funny. Maybe someday, I’ll show my mugshot to my grandkids to prove that I was some outlaw badass. It’d be a better legacy than the one I’m currently building. The one where everyone assumes I’m unreliable, naïve, and unable to navigate life without arm floaties.
But right now, all I care about is speeding up this process so I can get my phone call.
I resist the urge to make silly faces when Garrett snaps my mugshot. Which is a whole lot easier than pretending I don’t feel a thing when he takes my hand and presses my fingers to the ink pad. Tingles skitter up my arm at his touch, shooting straight to my nipples. The damn thingswouldbe hard at a time like this.
To deny that I’m attracted to Garrett Bradley would be like denying that the sky is blue. I can lie to everyone else, but I can’t lie to myself. Not with the way my pulse triples at the sound of his voice. Or the way my palms turn sweaty when I spot him in the diner parking lot. Don’t even get me started on how badly my lady bits tingle when he’s too close.
The sky willalwaysbe fucking blue.
But I have no interest in getting tangled up with the local police chief.
Though a tangle in the sheetsdoessound fun…Focus, Aurora! He’s the enemy.
“This your first time being fingerprinted or do I just make you nervous in general?” Garrett’s low voice is practically a wicked purr. The corner of his mouth tips up in a smirk. His stormy eyes sweep up and down, indicating the blush I feel settling across my warm skin.
I focus on the fingerprint card so I don’t accidentally get snagged in his gaze. “I’ve never been arrested, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Never?”
“Oh, come on. You looked that up, right? You know I’m telling the truth.”
After a long silence no doubt meant to torture me, he finally admits, “I do.”
“So did you happen to find outwhatI’m being arrest for?”
Garrett presses the last finger to the card, but he doesn’t immediately let go of my hand when he’s finished. I should tug it free, but I’m selfishly absorbing his warmth every second I can have it. Praying he doesn’t notice how much I enjoy his touch. “You had an unpaid parking ticket.”
