Page 32 of Love…It's Complicated

There’s a figure of a man. It’s not the same as the thinner, shorter officer from before. No, this man has a towering frame, brawny build, and commanding manner. I could pick that body out in a lineup.

With furrowed brows, I watch as Officer Bronson saunters toward the jail cell. He’s not in uniform. Instead, he has on jeans, a sweatshirt, and those construction boots from the night we danced. I like those boots on a man. They look particularly good onthisman.

Stupid boots.

He grabs a chair from a desk on his side of the room and lifts it easily, placing it gently on the floor in front of the bars. There’s a coffee cup in his hand. Bastard has the audacity to stroll in here, all casual, sipping on some java and looking at me with that smolder. His ability to access his molten sexuality with a simple look of his eyes is infuriating, especially when I’m sitting here with a messy bun and pajama bottoms with little cappuccino cups on them.

I sit up straight. “What are you doing here?”

“Heard you got yourself into quite the pickle tonight.”

Pickle. It’s an adorable word. I love that word.

“By pickle, if you mean I went to my house to get my son’s teddy bear, then, yes, I got into a pickle.”

His mouth twists as he tilts his head. “Yourhouse?”

“My ex’s house. Semantics. It was mine for nearly ten years. How about this? It’s my child’s house, and as his legal guardian, I have the right to access my son’s home.”

I imagine the look on my face is very smug because that’s how I feel with that answer.

“That’s an impressive argument, Miss Jones.”

Will takes a step forward and breathes heavily, making his chest rise and his lips part. Goose bumps run down my arms, so I rub them fiercely.

His eyes narrow. “You’re freezing.”

“An area rug would do wonders to warm up the place.”

He holds out his hand, bearing the coffee cup. “I brought this for you. Heard you were jittery.”

“You thought coffee would help calm my nerves?”

“I brought you hot cocoa.”

“You keep hot chocolate in the break room?”

“Break room? No. The bottom left drawer of my desk? Yes. I happen to have a thing for Swiss Miss. Milk chocolate, not dark.”

“Tiny marshmallows?” I ask skeptically.

The side of his mouth lifts. “They dissolve too quickly. Like to add my own.” He weaves his hand through the bars and holds out the cup. “For you.”

I really don’t want to take anything from this man, but the steam coming out the lid’s opening is too inviting. Deciding the least he can do is bring me a cup of cocoa, I stand and take it rather eagerly. As I drink, I’m thankful it’s not too hot that I burn myself. It’s just hot enough. The kind of hot that warms my bones the second it passes through my body. I hold the cup tightly and let that warmth simmer into my palms.

With a small grin on his face, William relaxes into the chair on the other side of the bars. I take a seat on the bench again, this time closer to the bars than I was before.

I lean forward. “I need to call my father. I left God knows how long ago and never came back. He’s probably sick with worry. Especially Hunter.”

Will places his hand in his pocket and produces his cell phone and a pair of AirPods. He hands me an earpiece. “Call your father. Tell him you’ll be home in an hour.”

I don’t ask how he knows exactly when I’ll be out of here. My mind is only on the immediate task at hand, and that’s letting my family know why I haven’t come back. I tell William the number so he can dial it. The phone rings once before Dad picks up.

“Who is this?” he asks in a gruff yet concerned tone.

“Dad, it’s me. I’m sorry I didn’t come back. Something came up. It’s a long story. I’ll explain as soon as I get back in an hour. How are the kids?”

“The kids are asleep in their beds.”

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