Page 39 of Wine and Research
Christ, he was a goner before he’d even crossed her threshold.
He blew out a breath and slowed his vehicle, giving himself every second possible to regain his composure.
She was supposed to be shadowing him again today, but just as she got out of her car in the parking lot, her cell went off. It was Gabe, needing help at the restaurant again. Jeremy knew this because he’d arrived just before her and had been waiting to make sure they had their “day after sex” meeting somewhat in private. If there was any awkwardness, he wanted to get it out of the way and hidden from prying eyes.
That didn’t exactly happen, though. She’d gotten the text and left before they could talk, and since he had no plans to see her tonight or tomorrow on his day off, that meeting would have to wait a few days.
Even though he’d known they would be good together, he’d been caught off guard at the way she’d gone up in flames and hadtaken him with her. She’d seemed surprised by it too. Surprised but eager for more.
So had he.
And work wasn’t the time to think about any of that, or he’d get himself or possibly others killed, so he purged his thoughts.
Again.
For the first few hours of his shift, Jeremy had managed to keep his mind clear. He’d tracked down and questioned the two parolees, and even though he kep their names on the list, his gut told him they didn’t do it. After that, he’d helped with traffic control when a truck with an oversized load—a manufactured house on a flatbed—traveled through town to a lot five miles south of Main Street.
Definitely one of his easier calls.
After that, he’d gone back to the scene of the first break-in to survey the nearby buildings when another call had come in.
This one had been a little more unusual. He’d helped a grandmother not only get her cat out of a tree, but also her five-year-old granddaughter, who’d climbed up there to rescue the cat then became too scared to get down.
Elle would’ve enjoyed that one.
And he was back to thinking about her, again. Great. He shook it off as dispatch sent him to a robbery in progress at a local gas station.
Jeremy answered the call and raced to the location, hoping it was related to those other break-ins and he’d finally put an end to them. He pulled into the lot, siren blaring, and noted two people near the pumps. An older man was capping the tank on a well-loved but aged pickup, while a middle-aged woman in a track suit was pumping gas into her SUV. Both looked at him and frowned.
A second later, the worker behind the counter rushed out, confusion wrinkling his brow. The twenty-something-year-old, withOwenon his name tag didn’t look threatened, just confused.
Jeremy cut the siren and engine, then got out.
“What’s going on?” Owen asked.
He walked over, hand on his weapon, glancing through the windows to assess if someone was armed inside with a possible hostage and had sent the guy out. But the place was empty. He peered around the far side of the building, finding it clear.
“Got a call about a robbery in progress,” he replied, walking back to the worker.
Eyes wide, the kid shook his head. “Not from me.”
“Icalled the police,” the man by the truck stated.
Owen frowned and stepped toward the older man. “Were you robbed, Mr. Willard?”
Willard scowled. “Yeah, by you. The gas here has gone up nearly ten cents since last week. It ain’t right. How can someone survive on a fixed income when people like you jack up your prices on a whim?”
Disappointment washed through Jeremy. This had nothing to do with break-ins or a robbery for that matter.
“It wasn’t me,” Owen said, hand on his chest. “I just work here.”
The older man frowned. “But you change the prices, don’t you?”
The kid shoved a hand through his hair. “Yeah, when I’m told to. And I agree with you. The prices are crazy, but there’s nothing we can do about it.”
Some of the fight left the older man and he blew out a breath. “We can go back to horse and buggy.”
Owen chuckled. “That would do it.”
