In the Line of Duty: First Responders, Book 2 (3 page)

He slapped another dozen burgers on the barbeque and sprinkled them with salt and pepper. “Well, that’s comforting,” he replied. He met her gaze evenly. He could sense the suggestion of curves even in the straight dark trousers and bulky vest of her uniform. He wished he didn’t notice quite so much. Especially since it was in his best interest to maintain a positive relationship with law enforcement in the area. He shouldn’t be antagonizing her so much, but he couldn’t seem to help himself.

There was something about her he connected with, and that puzzled him. They were as different as night and day. Oil and water. But the night she’d locked him up, there’d been a moment. He’d looked her dead in the eye and something had passed between them. It made him curious. And while he tried to get a rise out of her, he also respected her a lot. It wasn’t easy being a cop. Couldn’t be easy being a woman
and
a cop.

He knew right enough that she’d handle his case with the same attention she did everything. It was who she was.

Just then the day’s coordinator approached, a frown pursing her face.

“Burger, Martha?” Jake asked.

“Not right now. We have a problem, and I was wondering if you could help us out with it.”

He could see Kendra standing to the side, hanging on every word. “What’s going on?”

“Our emcee is sick, and we want to make the presentations in about twenty minutes—to the food bank, of course, and also announce the various prize winners. You’re a hometown boy and a veteran, and you’re also one of the sponsors. You’d be the perfect person to fill in.”

“No problem.”

“Really?”

He nodded. “Why not?”

“Oh, thank you.” Martha let out a huge sigh of relief. “We can always count on you, Jake.” She gave him a brilliant smile. “About twenty minutes, okay?”

She scurried off while Jake felt Kendra’s eyes glued to him.

“What?” he asked, not looking at her but sliding his spatula beneath a hamburger and giving it a flip.

“You’re a sponsor today?”

“Don’t sound so surprised. Just because I own a bar—I’m assuming that’s your problem—doesn’t mean I don’t have a conscience. The people of this community support my business. I support them.”

Kendra opened her lips but she didn’t say anything.

“Why is it you’re so against the bar anyway? I run a decent place.”

“Most of the people you serve would be better off staying home with their families for a night or two,” she replied, “instead of getting drunk and getting into fights or getting behind the wheel.”

“Lord, aren’t we all high and mighty and full of judgments today,” he said irritably, wishing now she’d never come over to the food tent. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to finish cooking these and then go do my civic duty. Maybe you should go do yours before I say something I’m really going to regret.” He looked her in the eye. “After all, I wouldn’t want to piss you off. I could get into trouble.”

Her cheeks blossomed with a bit of color before she turned and walked away.

Damn her. He scowled as he finished turning the patties and put the cover back down on the grill. For a few moments the other morning, as they’d eaten breakfast, he’d thought maybe the animosity she seemed to feel for him had faded. He remembered her smiling as she bit into the crispy bacon, the way it had almost felt friendly. He would rather it was, to be honest. He didn’t have many friends in town. Business acquaintances, of course. But many of his old friends were gone, and at times it was awkward with the ones who had remained. There were a lot of differences to being on the other side of the bar—including knowing when to stop serving and call someone a cab. That wasn’t always a popular move when it was an old buddy who’d reached his limit.

He wondered why she was so against his pub and against him. He got the feeling it had little to do with the incident a few years back. That had been embarrassing but nothing worth holding a grudge about. His lips twitched a little thinking about it. He might have been foolish, but he remembered every moment of that night. And he remembered propositioning her from the back seat of her police car, with his hands in cuffs and the button of his jeans still undone.

Sad thing was, he’d had the same thoughts just a few days ago.

And he’d been completely sober.

Kendra wandered through the park, pasting on a smile and chatting to people, but her mind stuck on Jake. He was absolutely right. She didn’t like his business. She wished she could say she didn’t like him either. But the truth was she
was
being judgmental. She might not like what he did for a living, but that didn’t give her reason to be nasty about it. To make it personal.

So why was it? It wasn’t like they were old friends. It wasn’t like they had any history at all. He was the hometown boy and she was the outsider who had moved in and made her home here.

If she could call it a home.

She paused by an oak tree, taking advantage of the shade, feeling slightly jealous of Jake as he took to the small makeshift stage in his board shorts and flip-flops—so much more casual and comfortable than her damned uniform.

She hadn’t realized he was a sponsor today. Seeing him manning the grill was one thing—though volunteering his time for charity was a surprise, it was quite something else to sponsor, giving not only time but money as well. Perhaps she owed Jake an apology. With a ready smile, he thanked people for coming and made a presentation of food goods and cash to the organization’s chair. He drew for donated prizes too, and one that he’d donated himself—a gigantic gift basket filled with local gourmet products as well as a gift certificate for dinner at the pub.

He was acting like an upstanding member of the community. Perhaps it was time she started treating him like one.

The only problem was she couldn’t get past her prejudice about the bar. And that was something so deep-seated, so ingrained, that she wasn’t sure she’d ever get past it. She’d seen what it could do, and it scared the hell out of her.

The afternoon was waning when she heard a shout go up from the games area. Curious, she wandered over that way and found a group surrounding the dunking booth. The local school principal came out sopping wet and made room for the next victim. Kendra smiled and clasped her hands behind her back, relaxing and enjoying the sound of laughter. She wondered who they’d put up there next.

She didn’t have to wait long. There was more giggling, and then she saw Jake take a precarious seat in the top of the tank.

Kendra squeezed her fingers together. Did she dare? There was always the chance she’d miss the button and the lever wouldn’t drop.

But there was the chance she would hit it and it was oh-so tempting. For a few minutes she watched some teens line up and take aim. One came close to hitting the edge of the button, but didn’t quite make it. Jake leaned back a little, put his hands behind his head and preened.

His cocky attitude was enough to make up her mind. Casually, she sauntered forward, dug into her pocket for the dollar it cost for three chances and tossed the first ball up and down in her hand. She looked at Jake and grinned.

His smile widened and he spread his elbows wider, as if to say, “Go ahead, lady, take your best shot.”

“Get him, Constable Givens!” A boy of about twelve sent up the first cheer as she weighed the ball in her hand. A crowd was gathering now, and she wiggled her eyebrows at Jake. He didn’t look the least bit worried.

She planted her feet, drew back and let the first ball go.

It just missed the button, hitting the booth a little to the left of the trigger with a hollow metal sound. A chorus of disappointment went through the crowd, but she took her next ball and turned it over in her hands.

Jake sat up, raised his hand and yawned. Then he laughed.

She couldn’t help the smile that touched her lips. Lord, but he was a cheeky one. She’d be the last one laughing. Had to be. There was a certain amount of pride at stake, especially after his harsh dismissal of her earlier.

She pulled her shoulder back, stepped into it and missed again, overcorrecting and hitting slightly right.

“Come on, Givens. Your aim’s a little off,” he called out, and the crowd laughed. “I hope you shoot better than you throw!”

This time she didn’t hesitate or think. She grabbed the third ball, curled her fingertips along the curved stitching and let it rip.

Bull’s-eye.

There was a moment of surprise where his face completely blanked, and then a splash as he hit the water. Kendra couldn’t stop the laughter that bubbled up and out of her mouth. The crowd joined in, clapping and cheering as Jake stood up, his face dripping, his T-shirt sopping wet and clinging to his broad shoulders and chest.

All in all, he looked pretty damn good when he was wet. And she’d salvaged her pride. A good afternoon’s work, to her mind.

“I’ll get you for that,” he warned loudly, running a hand over his hair before resuming the seat.

“Careful, Jake,” someone called out. “She’ll have you up on uttering threats or something.”

He looked down at her, affecting a scowl, but he couldn’t maintain it. He laughed and then sent her a wink. It should have been silly. Instead it was sexy as hell.

Then someone else stepped up to the line and paid their dollar, and Kendra walked away.

She stayed a while longer, but as she was walking back to her car Jake’s voice sounded behind her. “Hey, Givens. Wait up.”

It made no sense that the sound of his voice—strong and soft at the same time—sent her stomach swirling. She turned around and saw him jogging up to her, a can of pop in his hand. His light shirt was still damp from his dunking, and she could see a hint of his skin and the outline of his muscles through the fabric. Maybe Jake wasn’t in the army anymore, but he hadn’t lost any of his physique, had he?

“Here,” he said, holding out the can. “For having to stand around in the heat all afternoon. Courtesy of Jake’s Pub, if you’re not too proud to take it.”

She took the can from his hand and their fingers touched ever so briefly. Her cheeks were already flushed from the sun, so she hoped the blush she felt didn’t show. The can was sweating and the cool liquid felt wonderful on her hand. “Thanks,” she replied.

He fell in step beside her. “Nice arm, by the way.”

“You weren’t expecting that, were you?” She laughed softly.

“No, I wasn’t. Where’d you learn to throw like that?”

She looked over at him. “I played competitive ball for a while. Even made the Canada Games team. Catcher. I could nail second from a squat.”

“You’re full of surprises, Givens.”

A warm curl of pleasure wound its way through her. “You have no idea, Symonds.” He’d been a good sport too. She hadn’t exactly been fair in her assessment of him, she realized. So far he’d made her breakfast, been cooperative, cooked hamburgers for charity and allowed himself to be publicly humiliated for the same cause. “I’m sorry about earlier,” she said. It had been easier to say than she expected. “I know you think it’s personal, but it’s truly not, Jake.”

He sighed. “Well, maybe it is, but it’s about you and not me. I’m smart enough to figure that out.”

Alarm jolted through her. How could he possibly see that? She’d never breathed a syllable to lead him to that conclusion, had she? But he was right. It
was
personal. She’d seen alcohol destroy first her family and then countless others. It was impossible to ignore that he played a role in that simply by owning the kind of business he did.

“Are you looking for me to tell you you’re right?” She forced a smile, trying to lighten things up. “It’ll never happen.”

“Oh, don’t say never. That just makes me want to prove you wrong.”

The devilish, teasing note was back in his voice. It was surprising to find she’d missed it. “Duly noted.”

“You got any friends, Constable?”

It was an odd question, and she popped the top of the can to prolong answering. She took a sip and considered. “Of course I have friends.”

“Good friends? Or acquaintances?” Puzzled, she paused and looked over at him. “I don’t understand.”

He shrugged, opened his own can with a pop and hiss. “Well, acquaintances are people you know, talk to, work with, yada yada. But friends…friends are people you actually share things with. Hang out with. Enjoy downtime. You got any of those?”

“Not really. There are my coworkers, but…”

“But?”

She sighed. “I’m not the besties type, that’s all.” She never had been either. It had been easier just to be alone, without having to explain anything. Easier when they moved time and time again if she didn’t have anyone to truly miss. If you never got close to someone, you never had to worry about saying goodbye, did you?

“Me either,” he said. “The closest I have to real friends are the guys I served with. And those guys are either still in, or gone, or live somewhere else.”

They were nearly to her car. “Come on, Jake. Everyone knows you, everyone likes you.”

“Not everyone,” he said knowingly.

“It’s not that I dislike you,” she clarified. “Maybe I just don’t understand your choices.”

“See? That’s what I’m talking about. After you left the other day I realized that it’s probably something personal for you.”