Page 27 of The Pocket Pair

Almost engaged to James Graham, I mentally correct. An idea that still leaves me unsettled.

“Yep.”

“That’s cool,” Grant says, but the mix of awe and excitement tells me it’s not just cool. He looks like he’s about to wet himself.

I take another sip of beer to hide my smile. I highly suspect Grant accepted the position of deputy here because he heard the buzz about Sheet Cake. The famous Grahams buying the town and giving it new life. The movie studio who visited just a few weeks ago and plans to relocate here to film in the now picturesque downtown. Things are changing, but we’re still, at heart, a very small town.

At least, the old part of Sheet Cake. The newer part with their strip malls and shiny buildings and planned communities and separate police force—the newbies are still just as much outsiders as they’ve ever been.

Anyway, as much as I love it here, I can’t figure any other reason a person would move here from a real city. Then again, Grant’s from Dallas, the city all other Texans love to hate.

As the doors creak open behind me, Grant’s eyes widen. This time, I know it’s not the beer. “Who’s that?” he asks.

I turn on my stool, my stomach twisting with something like nerves as Val walks in. She’s frowning at her phone, not looking where she’s going, and runs right into me.

Her phone goes flying, and I reach out to steady her, my hand landing with far too much ease around the curve of her waist. Like it was meant to rest there. Always. I swallow hard and remove my hand as soon as she’s steady.

Her brown eyes meet mine, and I try to stifle the effect she has on me. Because she shouldn’t. She can’t.

I’m both grateful and annoyed when Grant breaks whatever thing is stretching between us, shoving the phone practically in her face. “I’m Grant. Here’s your phone, Miss uh …”

Val moves a tiny step away from me, taking her phone from Grant’s outstretched hand. He smiles, all golden retriever puppy. Eager and adorable.

When Val giggles, a firestorm of an unfamiliar emotion lights inside me. It has to be jealousy. But never once in my life have I felt it before. And I shouldn’t now.

“I’m Valentina,” she says, setting down the phone to shake Grant’s hand. For a few seconds too long if you ask me. “Most people call me Val.” Her eyes cut to me. “Or Tiny.”

“Tiny?” Grant says, his smile widening, and dangit if Val doesn’t giggle again.

“The only one who calls her Tiny is me.”

The words come out far too growly and much too loud. So much so that there’s a brief lull in conversation in the bar.

Grant blinks at me in surprise, then glances down at his lap. That’s right, buddy. I’m the alpha here. And maybe I don’t have the right to and shouldn’t even if I did, but this woman is off limits and so is my nickname for her.

I swing my gaze to Val’s. She’s blinking rapidly, her lips slightly parted. I can’t tell if she’s shocked in a good or bad way by my outburst. Either way, I’m not sorry. No way is baby-faced pretty boy Grant going after her. The man might be twenty-two, but he looks like he’s never had to shave a day in his life.

Needing to break the tension, I nudge Val with my shoulder. “What brings you to Wolf’s tonight? And where are your partners in crime?”

“Wolf asked me to come in.” Did he, now? I shoot the man a look, but he’s busy talking to some old timers. “And Winnie and Lindy are …” Val trails off as her phone buzzes on the table in front of us. She frowns.

And because I’m a cop, not because I’m nosy or still feeling all kinds of unreasonably jealous, I look at the name flashing across the screen. Jaxon.

“He spells his name with an X? Guess we can’t blame him for his parents’ choice.”

Distractedly, she says, “No, legally it’s spelled with a -cks. He just likes the X.”

More reason to dislike the man. “I thought you broke up with him.”

“I did.” She shakes her head, and for the first time I realize her hair is down. Most of the time Val keeps it up in some kind of messy bun or braids. Seeing it long and loose and thick around her shoulders, hanging almost to her waist, I am overwhelmed with an urge to reach out and tangle my hand through it. Instead, I take a sip of beer.

“And he’s still calling?”

Her smile is tight. “The man doesn’t seem to want to let go.”

I give Grant a look. “Val’s ex also has a mullet.”

“He does not!”

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