Page 1 of Cowboy and the Convict

1

Janie

Please scroll back for trigger warnings.

"YOU HAVE GOT to be kidding me." Janie glared out the back door of The Baking Rack to find her newly acquired, small-town nemesis down on one knee. His current position had nothing to do with romantic inclinations—the thought of any man considering such a prospect was almost laughable—but was for a much more infuriating, and equally ridiculous, reason.

Almost as if he could sense the scowl she directed his way, Officer Peters lifted his head, squinting across the lot, hazel eyes coming to land directly on where she stood. In what was likely an effort to antagonize her even more, he had the audacity to shoot her a smile. The kind that might have gotten her heart racing a few years ago, but now only had her molars grinding together.

"Hey there.” His eyes followed her as she stalked his way. “Got a call about some broken glass in this lot, and while I was checking everyone's tires, I couldn't help but notice yours are a little bald." He dusted off his hands as he stood, the act taking an asinine amount of time because of his stupidly tall height.

How did the man even find uniforms that fit? Between the length of his legs and the broadness of his shoulders, Peters probably had to have the things custom made so they didn't come halfway up his shins and cut off the circulation to his arms.

Digging the tips of her fingers into her burning eyes, Janie attempted to rub away the exhaustion that had been with her so long it was now more of a personality trait than anything. "We talked about this, Peters." She gave up trying to soothe her irritated corneas and let both arms drop. "I'm a grown woman and I don't need you lecturing me about car maintenance."

The cop who was the bane of her existence braced both hands against his hips, lifting his eyes skyward as if he was the one who should be irritated. "I'm not lecturing. I'm simply mentioning an issue you might not have noticed."

It was the same argument he tried to make every time their paths crossed. Because every time their paths crossed, he couldn't stop himself from pointing out how epically she was failing at adulthood.

Spoiler alert: she already fucking knew.

"I don't need you to mention shit to me, Peters." Janie crammed one hand into her purse, digging around for the keys that would save her from this situation. Standing here arguing wasn't going to do either of them any good. At this point, if anyone was going to benefit, it would've already happened. So far, the only thing it accomplished was making her dread the sight of his cruiser.

Which was a shame, because under different circumstances, she might have enjoyed watching Peters going about his business. The man could sure as hell fill out a uniform.

He could also sure as hell induce rage, which took all the fun out of admiring his physique and always managed to ruin her day.

That’s why, the second her fingers closed around the fob, she whipped it out, shoving a thumb against the unlock button so she wouldn't have to wait for it to automatically engage when she reached her door.

"I'm not lecturing." Peters raked one hand through his dark, slightly graying, hair. "I'm just pointing something out to you." He swung one arm in the direction of a pickup truck a few spaces down. "The same way I'm gonna tell Brett Pace he's got an oil leak."

She snorted. "I'm sure he'll appreciate it."

If she didn’t want to get away from Peters and his judgmental tone so badly, she might even stick around to see how that worked out for him. But that would leave him plenty of time to pick apart everything else she was doing wrong, and then she might have to kill him.

So she made a beeline for her car, continuing to jab the unlock button with escalating intensity. It'd been finicky lately, so she hadn't panicked when the locks didn't click right open, but now that she was closing in and the things still weren't unlatching, her stomach was starting to clench. She couldn't be stranded here in a parking lot with him. Especially not if it was due to deferred fucking maintenance. Peters would never let her hear the end of it.

She decided to switch tactics, trying to sound casual when she said, “I’m sure you have much more important things to do, so feel free to move along.”

But Officer Peters didn’t budge from where he stood beside her front tire. He just watched as she kept pushing that fucking button, not saying a word. His silence was almost as bad as his lectures. She might not hear him voice how disappointing he found her existence, but it was still there. Hanging in the air like smoke from a poorly lit fire. Thick and choking and determined to follow her wherever she went.

But he couldn’t stay silent forever. Not when there was a lack to shine a light on. “Seems like the battery’s out in your fob.”

It took every ounce of willpower she possessed not to chuck the useless piece of technology at him. "Thanks, Captain Obvious." Janie spun on one heel, intending to put as much distance as she could between herself and the small-town cop who insisted on making her life more fucking frustrating than it already was.

But—in a completely unsurprising move—Peters followed her, his long legs easily catching up. "Where in the hell are you going?"

Why did he sound exasperated? She wasn't the one bothering him.

"None of your business." Janie picked up the pace, knowing it was pointless, but it would cut down on the time she was forced to endure his presence.

She was just beginning to jog when Peters stepped right in her path, using his substantial size to cut her off. She tried to sidestep him, but it was no use. If she went left, so did he. And for as big as he was, the guy was fast on his feet.

Peters assumed his normal stance, bracing both hands on his hips as he stared down at her. "Have I done something to upset you?"

She laughed, because it was a ridiculous fucking question. "Are you kidding?"

Peters’ brows pinched together in what seemed to be genuine confusion. "No. It just seems like you're mad at me, and I'm not sure why."

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