He chuckled. “My mom had that box set. She fell over trying to side kick a couple of times before she decided to just stop eating bread.”
Lola laughed and the sound, a light, airy chuckle, hit him square in the chest, making all his muscles pull tight.
“It’s pretty fun,” she said. “I’m going to rope you into doing one of the videos with me sometime.”
Jacob found himself grinning over the phone. Hell yes! “As long as I don’t have to wear the tight muscle shirt, I’m in.”
“What if I want you to wear a tight muscle shirt?”
He coughed. “We would have to compromise,” he replied. “I’ll wear a muscle shirt if you wear leggings and a sports bra.” What the fuck, man! What are you doing? Be a fucking police lieutenant!
“I already wear leggings and a sports bra so…deal.” She laughed again. “Now, I’m excited.”
He indicated to turn right onto 6th Street, felt his stomach tighten with nerves when he realized that he was probably about to ruin her day. “I’m calling with some news,” he started. When she didn’t say anything, he added, “The LAPD captain in charge of the case thinks it might be safer for someone to stay with you for a few days, maybe a week or two. Especially considering it’s more than likely that the murders are connected.”
“Oh, no. Why? I thought you said he wouldn’t come back?”
He sighed, not completely unaware of the fact that he would rather be casually flirting with her instead. “We’re not sure, but the information that has piled up doesn’t look good. If he has you picked as a possible target, well, we’d just like to make sure that we have our bases covered.”
“God,” she sighed. “I still don’t know how I ended up in this mess. My life before this was…routine. Comfortable. Now I am doing ancient Tae Bo DVDs in my ten by ten living room because I’m too afraid to go on my usual run.”
Jacob pulled into his spot at the Central Community Police Station and put the phone to his ear so that he could switch from hands-free when he opened the car door. “You didn’t mention that’s why you were doing Tae Bo,” he said quietly, aware of the fact that she had fallen silent on the other end of the line.
“Yeah, it’s not a big deal. I’m just struggling to get outside.” She rushed on, “It’s not even like I genuinely think anything is going to happen, I’m just completely unprepared to cope with anything like this. Like zero. Before this, the most stressful thing in my life was my monthly call with my parents.”
She chuckled half-heartedly and the sound, an awkward, choked laugh, made his stomach clench uncomfortably. “It’s normal to feel that way.”
He stood outside the station in the hot afternoon sunlight of a Los Angeles September day. “Nobody is supposed to feel in control when confronted by a situation like this.”
She harrumphed. “I still miss running in my own goddamn neighborhood.”
“Well, lucky for you, running happens to be my go-to form of exercise.”
“You’re going to drive here to run with me every day?” she asked, unconvinced.
“I’m going to be there every day anyway.” He paused. “I mean, I guess we technically have to get your permission to stay with you, but we’d recommend that you accept the LAPD’s offer for police protection. Just for a few days, two weeks at most.”
“Wait. The LAPD is offering me protection? Every night? And my protection…is you?”
“Only if you want,” he hurriedly added. “We could also recommend that you stay with a friend or have someone come and stay with you at night. It’s just a formality, but considering everything that’s happened, we’d like you to think seriously about it.”
“We?”
“The LAPD.”
“How do you feel about it?” she asked.
“Petrified.” The single word was out of his mouth before he could bite it back.
“Well, Jesus. If you’re petrified, then I should be running for the hills. Okay,” she sighed, “sign me up. Or I guess, sign yourself up?”
He didn’t mention that he wasn’t petrified for her safety—that he could take care of. He was petrified of the fact that he’d be sleeping only a few feet away from her for days, maybe weeks. “I’ll mostly be around from seven in the evening to seven in the morning, but if you ever need space just tell me to go away, okay?”
“Deal.”
“Alright.” He breathed a sigh of relief. “I guess I’ll see you later then.”
“Laters,” she said before promptly hanging up the phone.
Chapter 7
She wasn’t quite sure how she felt about the fact that Lieutenant Jacob Simmone was going to be staying on her sofa for an undisclosed amount of time. Or, at least, she knew that she was weirdly excited by the prospect, but that those feelings of excitement also made her pause and think through the situation she’d found herself in.
She was a potential victim in a serial murder case and the police lieutenant who happened to be in charge of the investigation made her bones melt every time he looked at her. Oh, and he’d told her that physical contact was a no-go until the case was over. The way Lola saw it, she had the best and worst of both worlds. She could be around Jacob Simmone every night, feel that same delicious, drop-swing motion in her stomach when he looked at her. She could be in the same room with him for weeks and feel the rush of warm blood under her skin and the tight, toe-curling sensation of pressure building between her thighs.
And the kiss…
The kiss had been following her around like a lost dog, a constant, happy thing that usually filled her body with a comforting, warm glow…but sometimes was just plain irritating. A stolen moment that she couldn’t claim as hers.
Because the thought frustrated her, she cast a glance around her apartment, making sure that everything was in order before grabbing her keys off the side table by the door and heading for her car. It was only five o’clock, which meant she had at least two hours before Jacob came, two hours to go to the store, pick up enough groceries to stock the house. She’d get vegetables and a few proteins that didn’t come on top of carbs, both of which seemed like things an adult would buy. And wine. A lot of wine.
The groceries were for show.
The wine was for her.
She had a vague suspicion that she’d be drinking a significant amount in order to keep sane over the next week or so. And, although she would never admit it to Jacob, she ate like a college student—a poor college student. Most of the time, it was because she was genuinely too wrapped up in work to find time to think about food let alone drive to the store, cart everything home, and then cook, and over the years, her standard diet had fallen into a state of extreme disrepair.
Her parents would have lectured her endlessly about her health choices. Would’ve written a damn research paper about it. The silly thought made her chuckle. It was silly for two reasons: One, neither of her parents were in the medical or nutrition field, and two, they would have made her write the damn paper.
Still, the idea of offering Jacob a stray bags of potato chips, a handful of cookies, or an entire takeout pizza didn’t make her feel like a strong, self-sufficient, sophisticated woman. Which was why she needed to at least make it look like she frequented the store and bought human food—even if only occasionally.