Page 22 of First Surrender

“What is this?” I can tell it’s a bag of Mexican food but that’s not what I’m asking.

“Your food.”

“Did you go steal my leftovers back?” I snort.

“No.”

The huff that leaves my chest is involuntary. He has no sense of humor. “I was being sarcastic.”

“Bye, Natalie. Have a terrible night.” He starts to walk away but I’m not finished.

“Jackson. This is enough for four people.”

“Dec’s a growing boy. He’ll eat it.”

“How do you even know it’s something that we like?” I snip instead of being a normal human being and thanking him. Unfortunately, broken Natalie is an asshole.

“Go to bed.” He never looks back, ignoring my rude behavior, continuing down the hall until he takes the corner and is out of sight.

I check the receipt taped to the bag and see that he re-ordered my exact meal from dinner, down to the substitutions, because Dec won’t eat refried beans.

He’s either stalking me and Dec, or he put more effort into this than he’d probably ever admit.

* * *

When the prosecutor calls me and asks me to come in for an important meeting, I have to rush back to the hotel from work to change my clothes. Luckily, Dec has been spending a lot of timewith his friend from school so I don’t have to worry about being here for bus drop-off.

I put on my favorite plum long-sleeve top and my usual black pencil skirt with heels, trying to give the appearance that I have my shit together, but I still end up half-jogging through the parking lot to get into my car.

Even in my haste, I realize the same Sheriff’s Deputy cruiser sitting in the parking lot as when I pulled in. I saw it yesterday, too.

At first, I thought it was Sheriff Jackson Small Dick, but I haven’t seen him since he dropped me off at the hotel the other night.

Dec and I ate our Mexican food for dinner two nights in a row while I did my best to forget where it came from. I have no plans to become friends with Jackson. He’s still infuriating. And, a cop.

I roll my window down because this deputy is within spitting distance of my car and staring at me. Despite my nervous energy about the meeting I’m running late to, I can’t contain myself. “Can I help you with something?” I shout at his window and he rolls it down.

“No ma’am.”

“Why are you watching me?”

“Uh. Orders from the Sheriff to keep an eye on you.” He glances away from me, nervously.

“Again, why?”

“Well, because of the arson, ma’am.”

Arson.

Why wouldn’t Jackson tell me? I knew I couldn’t trust him. I knew it.

Within ten minutes I’m stomping up to the second floor of the Sheriff’s Department. My heels threaten to crack with each frustrated step.

Following the directions on the wall to the Sheriff’s office, I breeze by the secretary who tries to grab my attention, and pound on the wooden door with his nameplate. I try the handle but it’s locked.

“Open the door, Jackson!”

“Um, ma’am,” the secretary tries to get my attention but I cut her off with a look. The door swings open to a half-dressed giant. He’s fully clothed, but to me, he’s practically naked. He’s not wearing his uniform or his black polo. He’s standing in front of me in a white t-shirt with pants unbuttoned and no shoes on.

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