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The impact of seeing his eyes hits me anew, and my response gets lost in his green and blue gaze. I clear my throat. “I-I can do that. And I’ll bring lunch this time because that’s our cover story.”

He turns to the gate and opens it for us. We exit the lot, and he weaves the chain back in place and secures the lock. “I’ll turn the key in. See you tomorrow.”

“Sure.”

He walks into the building. I get in my car and keep the passenger door locked for a few extra seconds. Lynn peers through the window and sticks her tongue out at me.

I let her in. “If you ever decide to give up on teaching, I think you’ll have a brilliant future as a pimp.”

Chapter14

Avalon

I parkin front of the police station. Oddly enough, in the same spot as before. I feed two dollars’ worth of coins into the parking meter and call Jake. The phone rings twice.

“Detective Knox.” He sounds hurried.

“Hi. It’s me. I’m outside.” My stomach does a figure-eight.

“Hi.” His voice softens. Maybe he’s starting to trust me. “Come in. I’ll meet you in the lobby.”

“Okay, bye.” I hang up and take a deep breath. Grab the bag with our lunch and cross the street.

No friendly dog to welcome me with a wagging tail. I walk up the steps, dreading it less than the last time I was here. It’s been twenty-four hours since we parted ways at the impound, but something fluttery makes a nest in my chest at the idea of seeing Jake again.

He waits for me in the hall and opens the door to the police station when I get closer.

“Thank you.”

His hand goes to the small of my back. He guides me to his office under the watchful eyes of two uniformed police officers and a man in a suit whom I think is the chief of police. I’m glad we didn’t contact him. The man is huge and scary-looking.

Jake unlocks his office door and pushes it open for me. I miss the warm contact of his hand on my back.

He closes the door behind us, shutting out the low conversations and curious gazes. “Are you feeling okay?”

I set the food bag on the seat next to mine. “Yes, thank you. Why do you ask?”

“Your friend said that sometimes you get tired after one of these . . . what do you call it?”

I lift one shoulder. “I don’t really have a name for it. Sessions?”

“That works.” He sits on the other side of the desk, with one foot resting on his knee. His shoulders relax. There’s an openness to him that wasn’t there when we first met a week ago.

I break eye contact and grab the bag next to me. “I brought lunch. I hope you like BLT.”

He removes his sunglasses, drops his leg to the floor, and wheels his chair closer. “Thanks, you didn’t have to, but my stomach is happy you did.”

“It’s only fair—you’ve fed me twice. Now it’s my turn.” I hand him the wrapped sandwich and a bottle of water.

“Will eating first get in the way of your—” He gestures at me.

“Not with this kind of food. No sugar or animal products in it. Over the years, I’ve learned which foods ground me and which don’t.”

“Hmm, interesting.” A dimple pops in his cheek when he smiles. “And I love BLTs.”

God. No wonder he keeps the sunglasses on all the time. The smile and uncovered eyes combination has my heart working at full speed. I swallow and drag my gaze from his with the excuse of finding my sandwich. I resist the urge to fan my burning face. The heat spreads down, and I casually hold my water bottle to my chest.

I scratch at a non-existing itch on my shoulder. “Well, since we might be here for a while, I thought we should eat, and then we can talk about whatever else you have for me.”