Page 82 of Slow Burn
His fingers itched, and he rubbed them along his thigh, unable to quit thinking about the way Jocelyn’s skin had felt under his hands. His mind circled back to the curve of her body as he’d traced it, the taste of her on his tongue, the way her fire called to his.
He thought about her humor. About how tough she was for surviving what she had. About the kindness she’d shown Natasha, who represented just about everything she’d never been given.
His gut twisted at the thought of this being the end of them. He knew he couldn’t let her go. Hell, he’d sell the restaurant and the land and start fresh somewhere else if it meant being with her.
Lord, he was in over his head. Farther than he’d ever planned to go.
He should’ve known the moment his body had reacted that first time he’d seen her back in town—even before that, really. The way her picture on his parents’ mantel had caught his eye every single time he’d been there.
The urge to fix what he’d broken that morning was so strong, he found himself with a hand on the back doorknob before he realized what he was doing.
A knock at the front stopped him in his tracks.
He crossed back through the restaurant, too hopeful that it was Jocelyn on the other side of that door. It made his palms sweat just knowing what he’d been thinking about before—a future he had no reason to grasp for, no right to.
When he opened the door, his brows folded low. “Chief?”
Eric Ward wasn’t in uniform, but he sure as hell wasn’t dressed for lounging either. That set Cole’s nerves twitching as he glanced behind the older man.
“Hey, Cole. Jocelyn around?”
Cole scratched the back of his neck. Strange question. He and Jocelyn hadn’t exactly been advertising themselves, but he supposed folks in town had eyes. Kiki Womack sure had made some insinuations before a damn thing had happened.
“No. Why?”
Ward nodded, glancing past him into the empty restaurant. “Looking into the fire out at Joe’s place. Heard she’d been stayin’ there. Also checking some of the older buildings on First. Lot of electrical issues lately.”
Something tugged at the back of Cole’s mind. “You think Joe’s fire was electrical?”
Ward snorted. “Not likely. Man’s a drunk—probably his own negligence. But the Inn’s fire could’ve been prevented. Don’t want another one cropping up.”
Cole stepped aside. “I’ve got a few minutes.”
Ward walked in, gaze roaming over the bar like he owned it. “How’s your pop liking retirement?”
“Seems alright. Still settling in. You know he has trouble sittin’ still.”
“Don’t we all,” Ward muttered, his voice carrying something Cole couldn’t place.
“Is that what this is?” Cole asked. “Keepin’ busy?” Gossip wasn’t his thing, but it always found a way to him, and Wardseemed to be lookin’ for more than just wiring issues. He’d asked about Jocelyn after all.
“Official busywork.” Ward’s smile was tight, quick, and wrong. He disappeared into the back before Cole could say more.
Cole frowned, noticing a few misplaced glasses behind the bar—leftovers from last night’s stragglers. He reached for them just as Ward reappeared.
“You redid the apartment upstairs, didn’t you?”
Cole straightened. “Yeah. Don’t know that you’d find anything. I pulled permits. Had the wiring inspected proper-like.”
“Mind if I check? Safer that way.”
A weight pressed into Cole’s chest. “Are you just stalling for Jocelyn?”
Ward laughed, too loud. “Might be. She’s been asking questions about her mama. I finally got around to diggin’ into some more of the old files for her.”
Cole’s jaw clenched. “I’ll let her know you stopped by when”—if—“she gets back.”
Ward smiled at the dismissal. “I’ll be gone soon as I check upstairs.”
