Page 4 of Jenna's Protector

Climbing out of my truck, I stand outside Marlowe’s Café The crisp morning air bites my skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. My breath forms little clouds as I exhale.

Still early, barely past the ass-crack of dawn, the town is quiet at this hour. Early risers are still cocooned in their homes, but Max and I have been up since four in the morning.

I scan Main Street, the familiar storefronts seemingly frozen in time. This place feels different today—heavy with the weight of what I need to do.

Max trots alongside me, his nose twitching as he sniffs the air, ever vigilant and curious.

Always eager.

Fiercely loyal.

I push on the door to Marlowe’s Café. The bell above the door jingles, slicing through the low hum of conversation and the clatter of dishes.

The rich aroma of ground coffee and fresh pastries wraps around me like a comforting blanket. The warmth contrasts sharply with the chill outside, enveloping me as I step inside.

Jenna is behind the counter, her back to me as she steams milk for a cappuccino. Her hair is pulled back in a loose bun, a few stray strands escaping control. The soft hum of music plays in the background, adding to the cozy atmosphere of the most perfect place on the planet.

I pause, taking in the sight of her. Jenna moves with an understated and innate grace. Her every action is fluid and purposeful. The woman is a natural beauty. She tries to hide it under baggy clothes and messy hair, but Jenna is runway-model gorgeous.

My heart spikes high above baseline the moment I see her. It does that every time I see her. In addition to the kick of adrenaline, there comes a clenching of my gut.

Her slender fingers expertly handle the steam wand. The wayshe tilts her head and nibbles on her lower lip as she concentrates sends a jolt of warmth through me. I can’t help but admire her effortless elegance.

The loose strands of her hair catch the light, framing her delicate features and highlighting her high cheekbones.

Her presence is magnetic, drawing me in every time I see her. I come here every day, usually a bit earlier than now—that call with Forest has me running late—but not for the coffee. I come to catch a glimpse of her. It always starts my day with a smile.

She turns slightly, giving me a full view of her long, dark lashes and the soft curve of her lips.

My heart skips a beat, and then it races ahead.

The vulnerability in her eyes contrasts with her outward strength. The depth makes me desperate to know everything about her.

I step further into the café. Max trots beside me, tail swishing and blissfully unaware of my unease. He’s smitten with Jenna, always eager to see her and get his daily treat. Max whines softly, and I give him a reassuring pat to soothe his excitement.

He doesn’t understand my hesitation.

“Easy, boy,” I whisper. “We’ll get your treat soon.”

Max nudges my leg with his nose, reminding me to keep moving.

It’s hard to believe Jenna carries a haunted past—a past Forest says might hold the key to my current case. It’s hard to see how, but I’m desperate.

Jenna turns, her gaze meeting mine. For a moment, everything else fades away. Her smile is like a ray of sunshine, warming me from the inside out.

“Morning, Jenna.” I manage to keep my voice steady.

“Morning, Detective Jackson.” She laughs, her eyes sparkling. “And Max, I know you want this.” Reaching under the counter, she pulls out a treat.

Max gives a happywoof, his butt wiggling feverishly as Jenna hands him the treat. I watch the interaction, a pang of longing hitting me hard.

I want to be the person she looks forward to seeing every day, not just another customer engaging in meaningless small talk.

I take a deep breath, steeling myself for a difficult and uncomfortable conversation.

Someday—I’m going to ask her out. But today, I must dredge up painful memories she’s worked hard to forget. I hate that my first real conversation with her will be about this case.

The guilt is eating me alive.

---