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Story: Dead Rinker

Jensen pops the cap on the Sharpie and points to the white Scorpions baseball cap the guy’s wearing. “I’ll sign it for you.”

His eyes light up as he pulls it off and hands it over. “Amazing, thanks.”

Jensen moves across to his car, which is now parked by the valet, leans against it, and begins writing across the brim.

“Here you go, buddy. Have a good night.” He sets it back on the guy’s head and then retakes my hand, leading me to the passenger door.

“Hey!” The guy shouts just as Jensen gets in the driver’s side and takes off.

I watch over my shoulder as the man starts waving his arms around. “What’s the matter with him? He got a signature, didn’t he?” I turn back to Jensen.

He pulls out of the restaurant driveway and heads for the freeway. “Must be what I wrote.”

“Which was?”

“Well, obviously, my signature. Followed by a friendly reminder not to be a prick.”

I snort a laugh. “Takes one to know one, I guess.”

Reaching over the center console, he smooths his hand over my stomach. “I had my hand on your stomach and my lips to your cheek. It was questionable at best. The media won’t find out until we say it’s time.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

JENSEN

Last night was perfect. The only thing that would’ve made it better was taking my girl to bed and showing her just how perfect she is.

But I got the next best thing—she opened up to me for the first time since I laid eyes on her. Kate Monroe does not open up to people unless they’re part of her inner circle, that much is obvious, and last night, she told me about her parents. Something I don’t think she’s ever spoken about before.

No, she told me about Violet and Henry. They aren’t parents; no parents measure their child by her success and then set the bar so high she’ll never be good enough.

They never hugged her or kissed her. I’m not even sure if they’ve ever told her they love her. She shut down on me at that point, and it broke my fucking heart to witness the pain she’s still in even years after she left home.

I want toannihilatethem.

Last night, when she went to bed, I spent hours researching their law practice and then looking up her brother. I think Igot only a small glimpse into her family and her childhood, but Easton knows it all. He has to. It took everything in me last night not to contact him. The only thing that stopped me was knowing that if I had, Kate would never forgive me. I’m already treading on volatile ground, and it takes only one false move for the land mine to go off in my face.

And that’s the issue right there—it takes a lot to open the door to her trust, but only a tiny infraction for it to slam shut, the bolt to slide across, and the drawbridge to rise.

To everyone else, she’s an enigma. But not to me. I don’t even need a map. I just need her to see that I’ve got her, and she doesn’t have to be anyone else with me.

“Morning.” Kate yawns her way into her kitchen, pulling open the cupboards to find her favorite mug. “Hey, have you seen the…uh…Sleeping Beauty mug? It was in here yesterday.” She moves a few mugs around to search the back.

“It’s normally at the front, right?” I rise from the air bed and stroll over to her. Her black silky sleep shorts rise just above the curve of her ass as she reaches up to the top cupboard.

Fucking hell, she’s got everything.

“Yeah. I normally have my one cup of caffeine in it every morning.”

I know, Princess.

I also know exactly where the mug is.

Coming up behind her, she stills when I press my chest to her back and slowly reach around her, my palm splayed out across her stomach as I maneuver her to face me.

She looks up at me, her blonde hair still disheveled from sleep, although not nearly messy enough for my liking.

Placing both hands on either side of the counter, I lean down until we’re nose to nose. “It’s on the coffee machine, ready to brew.”