Page 9 of Jenna's Protector

The contact is electric, sending sparks up my arm. I quickly pull away and wipe down an already spotless counter.

“Thanks.” He takes a sip, his eyes never leaving mine. “Perfect as always. You’re a lifesaver.”

“Just doing my job.” I try to keep my tone light, but I sense a heaviness in the air, a tension that wasn’t there before.

He doesn’t move away from the counter, his fingers tapping against the smooth surface. Max sits patiently, watching us with intelligent eyes.

It’s like Carter wants to say something but holds back, either unsure or reluctant to say whatever is on his mind. The wheels turn in his head, evident in the slight furrow of his brow as he searches for the right words.

“Is there something else I can help you with?” I try to keep my voice steady—my heart pounds. Anticipation and nerves coil in my stomach.

Is he going to ask me out?

“I…” He trails off, his gaze dropping to his cup momentarily before meeting mine again. “I was wondering if we could talk.” He clears his throat, looking uncomfortable. “Somewhere private.”

My breath catches in my throat.Private?

“Um, sure.” My voice wavers with a surge of excitement mixed with nerves. “Just let me grab Malia and ask her to watch the front.”

He nods, his expression unreadable. There’s something in his eyes, a flicker of emotion I can’t quite place.

My heart races, hoping this might be the moment I’ve been waiting for.

I untie my apron with shaky hands and hang it on a hook behind the counter.

“Malia, can you watch the front for a moment?” I call out to my part-timer, who’s in the back room checking inventory.

“Sure thing, boss.” Malia’s energy is infectious. She doesn’t walk to the register. She bounces.

I’m going to have aprivateconversation with the man of my dreams.

THREE

Carter

Jenna leadsme to a small office tucked away at the back of Marlowe’s Café. The aroma of freshly ground coffee beans gives way to the musty scent of old ledgers and paper.

Max follows us, his nails clicking softly on the worn wooden floor. His tail wags gently, and his nose twitches constantly, drinking in the new scents. His head tilts slightly as if processing the lingering sweetness of pastries, the sharp tang of cleaning supplies, and the unique scent that is purely Jenna.

As we enter the cramped space, Jenna’s fingers trail along the edge of an old oak desk, her touch almost reverent. She turns slowly, her green eyes meeting mine with curiosity.

“What did you want to talk about, Detective?” Her voice wavers, barely above a whisper, so unlike the confident barista who greets me every morning.

I’m about to hurt her in the worst way possible.

Jenna kneels to scratch behind Max’s ears, a small smile playing on her lips as my loyal companion leans into her touch. The simple gesture, so full of warmth, makes what I’m about to do even harder.

“I need your help.” The words come out more abruptly than I intended, my usual confidence faltering in her presence.

“My help? What do you need my help with?” Her brow furrows, confusion evident in her emerald eyes. She tilts her head slightly.

“I’m working a case.” I scratch the back of my neck.

“A case?” She crosses her arms, her confusion deepening. “What could I possibly have to do with any of your cases?”

“It’s a kidnapping case. The missing girls. Have you heard about them?”

Recognition flashes across her face, followed by something deeper, more visceral.

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