But Sienna hadn’t been shocked. She’d laughed like she thought I was a weirdo and sent me faux fur-lined handcuffs for my birthday.
“No problem. Have a nice evening,” the brother of the groom said. And with that, he administered a bow of sorts and strolled away.
Well, okay then. That was weird.
Giving my attention back to the officer, I discovered he’d recovered quickly, his earlier surprise now mostly gone. He wore a small, secretive-looking smile, like he had thoughts. Like he found his friend’s antics and the unexpected spotlight of my gaze amusing rather than uncomfortable or flustering.
His abrupt and successful recovery kinda sorta flustered me. I blinked. My boldness offset by confusion, I hesitated.
“Invite him over, or I will,” Lina said after a protracted moment, surprising me as she came to stand at my shoulder.
“He has a beard.” I made sure my tone sounded teasing as I continued to inspect this handsome stranger who didn’t appear at all starstruck. “Are you sure you want to talk to one of these bearded lumberjacks?”
“But it’s a short beard, and look at that chin, and that suit.” She sucked in a breath through her teeth, making a slight hissing sound. “Mr. Police Officer aced the assignment.”
I breathed a laugh and, shaking myself out of the strange self-doubt, crooked a finger toward Mr. Police Officer. He in turn cocked an eyebrow, placing a hand on his chest as though to say, Who? Me? innocence written everywhere except his eyes. Those were nothing but trouble.
A little flutter of excitement squeezed my chest, and I breathed through a sudden, unexpected burst of anxious energy. Nevertheless, I enjoyed the unanticipated crackling and warmth of electricity racing over my skin as our gazes continued to tangle across the room, and I crooked my finger again.
“This one is mine, Lina,” I decided and said at the same time.
“Raquel. You know how I feel about chin clefts. Cary Grant has my heart forever. Rock, Paper, Scissors?” she pleaded.
I watched as Mr. Police Officer crossed the room toward me, took note of the smoothness of his gait, the graceful confidence of his movements. “Nope.”
“Ugh. Okay, fine.” At the edge of my vision I saw Lina cross her arms. “But if it doesn’t work out with you two, I get dibs next time, if—God forbid—we ever come back here.”
“Totally fine with me,” I said, lowering my voice to add, “You know my rule.”
“Since Harrison, the heart-breaking twatwaffle, never the same guy twice,” she said under her breath just as the handsome man in blue made it to where we stood.
“Hi.” Lifting my chin, I offered my hand to the stranger. “I’m Raquel Ezra.”
“I know.” He didn’t smile, but his eyes, which I could see now were a deep, warm brown, danced. My heart stumbled over itself as he slipped his palm against mine, bringing the back of my hand to his lips. Brushing the barest hint of a kiss there, the texture of his beard teased my knuckles. Both sent lovely, spiky shivers up my arm and to my fingertips. “Jackson James. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”
Jackson James? Now that was a name I could appreciate. Part of me, the seriously goofy part, wanted to respond with Charmed, I’m sure.
I forced myself to hold his gaze until he released my hand, and only then did I turn to Lina. “This is Lina Lestari.”
He shifted the brunt of his charm to Lina, and I drew in a silent, steadying breath. Okay, settle down Rae. Play it cool. Be cool. Be who he expects you to be.
“I’m a big fan, Ms. Lestari. It’s an honor.”
These statements pulled a smile from Lina—no small accomplishment—and she offered her hand, which he took and shook gently.
Lina squeezed his hand tighter and shuffled a half step closer. “I know who you are.”
“You know who I am?” This seemed to surprise him, but he took her statement in stride, a small, skeptical grin blooming on his lips. He had nice lips, the bottom one much fuller than the top.
“I do,” Lina said. “Your sister is, uh, Janet. Right?”
“Janet is my mother. My sister is Jessica.”
Lina nodded quickly. “I met them yesterday. Your sister is hilarious. She’s dating one of the Winston brothers? The one with the red beard.”
“Yes. That’s correct.” The officer’s eyes narrowed just a fraction of an inch, his voice a modicum tighter, but still a deep, delicious rumble.
Before I could process the subtle shift in his mood, Lina’s smile grew dazzling. “Tell me something, Mr. Police Officer.”
“Anything, Ms. Lestari,” he responded immediately, using her hold on his hand to maneuver himself between us. “But I feel I must tell you, I’m a deputy sheriff. Though you can call me Mr. Police Officer if it pleases you.”
His voice was nice. And his accent was real nice, very Rhett-like.
“Okay, deputy.” Lina tilted her head to the side. “Can you tell me what a toboggan is?”
“I absolutely can tell you what a toboggan is. Just let me grab a water here . . .” Somehow he managed to free his hand from her grip, and in the next moment he reached behind me. His chest brushed against my shoulder while his proximity offered the faintest tease of his cologne, a warm, toasty blend of citrus, sandalwood, and . . . Is that jasmine?
My lashes fluttered as he withdrew, leaving the faint impression of his scent behind, and my mouth felt dry and useless. God, he smells good. I loved me a good-smelling man. There was nothing on earth like it. Three things in life had no substitutions: a perfectly roasted marshmallow; the first cool, crisp day of fall after a long, hot summer; and the closeness of a warm, good-smelling man.
Don’t mess this up, Rae.
Okay, look. I’d been in a self-imposed dry spell for over two years. Yes, my career came first, and any prolonged involvement with a man right now would only serve to distract me from my goals, ambitions, and meticulously crafted plans, because men could not be trusted. Period. I had to keep my eye on the prize, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t thirsty for something delicious.
Don’t you ever get thirsty?
That’s what I thought.
So, assuming I could keep my inner oddball in check, and he continued to press all my buttons without trying, and he was interested—which I was eighty-five percent certain that he was—and he didn’t say or do anything to reveal himself as a tepid vanilla pudding of disappointment, chances were really good.
The sexy officer straightened, his eyes dark and hooded as they met mine, that wonderful spark crackling between us. But then, giving his gaze back to Lina, he said, “A toboggan is a hat.”
I laughed, barely avoiding a snort, but I did wrinkle my nose as I spoke without weighing my words, “No. Don’t listen to him, he’s pulling your leg. It’s not a hat.”
The deputy glanced at me out of the corner of his eye, his gaze striking me as both hot and sharp, though his tone was conversational. “Yes, it is a hat.”
“No.” I faced him fully, my neck heating. “It’s a sled.”
He gave me the entirety of his attention, his forehead lined even as a small smile spread over his features. “A toboggan is a knit hat, Ms. Ezra.”
I shook my head, now grinning uncontrollably for reasons unknown. “You are wrong, deputy. It’s definitely not a hat.”