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)
Owen pulled back, squaring his shoulders. Carl’s Jeep reversed out of the garage, but Jason’s attention was fixed on blond hair and dark eyes and a decent shade of stubble . . .
The hand Jason had splayed to the size of the huntsman came up and landed on his shoulder, eliciting a shiver. Not a spider.
But the effect of it . . . a part of him had a strange urge to bolt. Only, Jason wasn’t quite sure in what direction.
“I don’t want you to leave.”
Relief had Jason smiling widely. “You won’t regret this. Promise.”
Owen made a sound that said he was not at all assured.
Regardless, Jason was left with a hopeful taste in his mouth. Much better than dinner, or dessert.
After Alex took off with the leftovers, while Jason and Owen were cleaning up, Jason tried his best to explain why he was doing this, leaning heavily on Carl’s motives rather than his own.
“Look, I respect your and Carl’s decision, but I’m concerned someone will end up hurt.”
“Someone was already hurting. That’s why I’m here.”
“There are others involved, too.”
“Others who will only be hurt if they find out. Since you’ve kindly promised not to tell them . . .” Jason struggled to pull the plug on a sink full of water.
“There’s still someone who’ll be hurt if they don’t. Maybe even especially.”
Jason frowned, pausing his struggle with the slippery plug. “What do you mean?”
Owen plunged a hand into the water, catching on his own as he pulled. The wet glide of fingers and the sudden suction of water felt almost ticklish. He started to remove his hand and Owen tugged his thumb, casting him a sideways look. “You, Jason. If everything goes to plan, you’re the one who leaves with no one knowing you were ever here. Ever the one making them laugh. Or cry, which I suspect is a definite possibility.”
“I would never make anyone cry.”
“I don’t know. I was close to tears this morning.”
“Well. I mean . . . tears of frustration don’t count.”
A shake of the head. “I’ve said my piece. There’s only one thing I’d like to add.”
“What’s that?” Jason dried his hands on the tea towel hanging over Owen’s shoulder.
“For God’s sake, please just come to me in any wildlife-related emergency.”
Jason laughed. “I’m sure I’ve had my quota. Bathroom?”
“Two doors on the left.”
Jason didn’t quite make it there. The first door on the left was open and there was a very large bed with the most impressive bookshelf-headboard. Just what kind of books did Sergeant Owen Stirling Sir read? Hardboiled detective stories? Cosy mysteries?
“What are you doing?” The voice came from behind, and Jason jumped out the three tip-toeing steps he’d taken into the master bedroom.
“Oops. Not the bathroom.”
“No, it’s not.” Owen didn’t seem annoyed. In fact, he seemed amused. He leaned against the doorframe, one ankle kicked over the other, arms folded. And waited.
It took about point-five seconds for Jason to tremble under the interrogative eyebrow arch. “Okay, okay. I’m . . . inquisitive. It’s the Sagittarius in me.”
Owen uncrossed his arms and stuffed his hands into his pockets. A wonder all that could even fit in the tight space. “The Sagittarius in you?”
“Adventurous. I like to explore.”
“Explore,” Owen repeated.
He looked different without his cop belt. “I’m all endless energy. Or, I’d like to be.”
“And that’s my limit of you for today.” Owen came off the doorframe, clasped his shoulder, and Jason barely had the time to look up before he was being marched out of the house.
Chapter Five
Jason pulled his eyes away from the neat lines of glazed donuts he’d arranged some minutes ago now. Once again, he scanned the empty street on the other side of the window.
Cora.
She’d be here any minute.
Owen had already fielded a barrage of questions on their ride in this morning: what did he know about Cora, and was she ever late for meetings, and what did he think about Jason hugging her . . .
He wasn’t sure he could, not without shaking. But maybe she expected that?
He’d found it difficult to listen to Owen’s responses over the rampant pounding of his heart.
Now, the quiet store felt desperately still and silent, and he nearly jumped out of his skin at a buzz from his phone. He grinned at the latest police tweet: Nobody told me policing would involve dealing with so many inebriated kangaroos. The image of calm, practical Owen attempting to contain such a creature . . . Immediately he imagined himself as that inebriated kangaroo, bouncing the length of the store from junk food to dog houses, tackled to the floor by a tall, strong man in uniform. Sergeant Owen, come deal with him!
It was distracting at least, and if there was ever a time he needed distraction . . .
A flash of uniform caught his eye, and Jason was out of the shop and across the road in a flash.