Chapter 11
“Boo. Or grr. Or . . . wait . . . what does the devil say?”
“Whatever comes out of your mouth is what the devil says.”
“Nice, Wakefield,” Jordan said, adjusting her headband with sparkly devil’s horns as a warm breeze tossed her hair around. “I thought you weren’t coming to the party.”
Will raised an eyebrow at Jordan’s makeshift costume, which consisted of the headband, a red tank top, a black miniskirt, black studded choker, and red heels.
“What? I was a little pressed for time. And what about you? I thought you didn’t wear your uniform as a costume.”
“I’m not here as a guest. I’m still on duty.”
“It’s, like, one o’clock in the morning.” One o’clock in the morning? How lame was it that she’d stayed this long, even when she didn’t want to? Well, she was enjoying being in a crowd—even if some of the other people looked at her sideways, as always—instead of back in her grandmother’s house, alone. She’d enjoyed sitting on the porch, giving out candy to the steady stream of trick-or-treaters, but once even the high school kids with rubber masks and pillowcases of candy stopped coming around, it had gotten a little too quiet. So why not go to Cam’s party?
“Police officers don’t turn into pumpkins at midnight. Once the kids are done, we check the adult parties, make sure everyone’s behaving themselves.”
Will might have been telling the truth, or he might have been making excuses. At the moment, she didn’t really care. She was just glad he was there. She’d missed him.
Oh no. She’d missed him.
Sure, she’d said she had to come back to town for the party and for Fred, but she had to add Will to the list . . . and she certainly was glad he was here. The party was, if Jordan had to admit it, kind of boring. Cam had made a huge fuss over her when she’d first come through the door, but he’d gone off into the crowd soon afterward, leaving her to fend for herself. She hadn’t really minded; she’d been telling the truth when she’d told Will she wasn’t interested in his brother. The guy was a bit of a flake. Like she was one to talk, but still.
Since she’d lost sight of Cam, she’d wandered through the party on her own, nursing one beer, until she’d drifted out to the front lawn where she’d spotted Will. And that had made the night a whole lot brighter all of a sudden. Not that she could come right out and say it, of course, so she didn’t say anything at all.
Neither one of them was saying anything, in fact. She had to fix that before things got stupid.
“Hey, I brought you a present.” She pulled her ankle monitor out of her small purse and dangled it by the strap.
“Why do you still have it? I didn’t think they gave them out as souvenirs.”
“Because I ruined it, my probation officer said. It’s unusable. Now it’s mine.”
“So it is a souvenir.”
“Um . . . not exactly. It’s a reminder that I have to pay to replace it.”
“Ouch. Those things aren’t cheap.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Are you okay to pay for it?”
She stiffened. That was an issue, but nothing she wanted to share with Will, so all she said was, “I can handle it. Don’t you worry about me.”
“So, what, you bombed down to Monticello to meet with your probation officer, then came all the way back here . . . for my brother’s party?”
“I never miss a Halloween party if I can help it.”
“Where is Cam, anyway?”
“I have no idea. Probably trying to keep his hundred or so guests from trashing his house completely, if he has any sense.”
“Yeah, Summer would murder him if there was any serious damage.”
“Summer’s Cam’s wife? Where is she, anyway? What’s the deal there?”
“He’s been treating you like a special guest, has he?”
“Not particularly. But he’s throwing this party by himself, and at the pumpkin farm you made a point of letting me know he was married. So what’s that all about?”
Will shrugged. “I don’t really gossip . . .”
“I’m not asking for dirt, just the situation.”
“They’re . . . estranged at the moment. Spending some time apart as they work some things out. Summer’s in Cooperstown for a couple of weeks, painting some of the historic buildings.”
“Paint . . . ? Like, scaffolding and five-gallon buckets and historic-era-appropriate colors?”
Will laughed a little. “No. Watercolors and canvas.”
“Oh my God, the art thing again.”
“What’ve you got against art? Or are you just jealous?”
“Hey, do you think I care that I’m not like the rest of these people around here? I mean, look at this crew!” She waved her arm to encompass all the locals dressed in everything from passé zombie and vampire gear to slutty versions of everyday uniforms to low-rent costumes like balloons in a clear garbage bag as a bag of jelly beans. She thought all these so-called artists would be more creative with their costumes, but for the most part that wasn’t the case. Go figure.
“Good thing, because you definitely aren’t.”
“Darn right.” This was Marsden, and she wasn’t like everyone else, and she didn’t want to be like everyone else. Not even a little. She was pretty sure, anyway.
Besides, Will was implying her difference was a good thing. There he was, hands on his hips above his laden utility belt, in that impossibly simultaneously repellent but sexy uniform, his infernal radio yakking away, with a warmth in his eyes that stopped her in her tracks. The way he looked at her . . . sometimes it was just too much to handle. In her worse moments, she wondered if he were studying her the way he’d examine any suspect—trying to figure out what made her tick, trying to stay one step ahead of her in case she planned on breaking any more laws, looking for her weak spots he could exploit.
But deep down she knew he wasn’t. Instead, he was staring at her simply because he . . . liked looking at her, maybe? Maybe even liked her. Which would be crazy, considering all the shit she’d given him so far.
So when he said, probably to break the awkward silence that had descended again, “I think I’ll do a little walk around the perimeter,” Jordan jumped at the chance to stay near him.
“I’ll go with you.”
Will had started to walk up the steep front lawn, but he stopped short to stare at her. “What?”
She gave him her usual excuse. “I’m bored.” She cocked her head. “You amuse me.”
The crowd, which had spilled out of the house and into the yard on this unseasonably warm night, parted for him, and Jordan followed in his wake. Even in their various altered states, the partiers recognized a real police officer in their midst instead of someone in a cop costume. Jordan stifled a laugh when she noticed quite a few women going out of their way to greet Will and give him a hungry once-over.
“Hey,” she ventured, catching up to him as they pushed through the crowd toward the alley on the north side of the house. “You’re missing some primo opportunities, here.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Some of these ladies are eating you up with their eyes. Didn’t you feel one grab your butt back there?”
“Not interested.”
“Nora said you were an eligible bachelor.”
“And I’ve run into just about every badge lizard out there.”
Jordan couldn’t help it; a loud snort escaped her and she stopped walking. “Badge lizard?”
Will stopped as well, smiling sheepishly. “Yeah, that’s what cops call ’em. They’ll throw themselves at any man in uniform. Add alcohol, and it makes them ten times worse.”
“You mean ‘You’d better take me into custody, Officer—I’ve been a bad girl’?”
“Exactly. It gets . . . old.”
“Did you ever fall for it?”
“Back when I was young and stupid, I suppose I did. But I learned pretty fast. Now I just laugh it off.”
Jordan tutted. “Shame. I think they’re pining for you.”
“They can throw themselves at guys in police costumes tonight instead. The fake plastic handcuffs are easier to figure out anyway.”
“Ooh, do you speak from experience?”
“Jordan, for God’s sake . . .” And then he trailed off, his grin fading as he caught sight of a couple in a tight clinch on the back patio, in the shadows but not so secluded that they—or anyone else around them—couldn’t get a good view.
“Great costume,” Jordan whispered, agog, after watching the couple in action for a few moments. “Zombie nurse. I mean, she looks like a regular nurse, but that can’t be right—she’s eating his face off.”
Will didn’t laugh. Instead, he touched Jordan’s shoulder to turn her in the other direction, leading her away from the scene of carnal carnage.
His grim expression worried her. “What’s with you?”
“That was Cam.”
“I know.” Even if she hadn’t been able to get a good look at him, she’d have recognized those crappy moves anywhere. He hadn’t changed a bit.
Will sighed. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”
“Well, yeah. Lousy technique. Sheesh.”
“No, I mean . . . he invited you to his party and . . .”
“You thought I was his date?” Jordan laughed. “No and no. I told you I don’t care about him.” Then the rest of her thought was out before she even knew what she was saying. “I’m a little distracted by another Nash brother.”
She felt light-headed all of a sudden, and she swallowed with difficulty. She’d said it; now she had to face the consequences. They were by the alley now, with only a few partygoers nearby. The music was muted here, and Jordan knew he’d heard her loud and clear. He swung around and fixed her with his intense stare as her pulse pounded in her neck.
“Wh—Jess?”
Her nerves evaporated in an instant. “Oh my God, will you stop being so stupid?”
Why was he acting so obtuse? He had to know . . . didn’t he? That she thought about him all the time, in ways she shouldn’t? That his patience and kindness had affected her more than she’d ever thought possible, and now she was just a sucker for more? But there he was, staring at her, and she thought maybe he really was just that uncomprehending, because he hadn’t moved a muscle. There she was, dressed to kill, no longer on the wrong side of the law, no longer off limits, and pretty much laying it out there, and still nothing.
Maybe he wasn’t stupid. Maybe he was paralyzed with horror.
She had to find out once and for all. Instead of walking away with one last, small shred of her dignity intact, she went toward him. One long step, and she reached out with both hands and grabbed the open collar of his dark blue uniform shirt, brought herself in close. Her heart was thudding under her skimpy top, and dimly she wondered if he could feel it against his chest. No. He had to wear his Kevlar on duty. She still had to get her point across.
She tugged a little more, until his face was close to hers. His warm breath heated her cheek, her lips. He was still staring at her, still not touching her. She fought past the urge to run. Now or never.
“Kiss me, you idiot.”
A pause as he studied her intently. Then, “No.”
Will put his hands on her waist and firmly pushed her one, two steps back.
Crap.
But he wasn’t done. The next thing she knew, Will had her by the arm and was tugging her down the alley. Startled at how forceful he was, Jordan stumbled to keep up. Shit, she’d made him angry, and now he was going to drag her back through the crowd and throw her off his brother’s property. Great.
“Hey, all right, forget it. I’ve had a couple of drinks, okay?” She hadn’t, but she was ready to say anything at this point to get him to stop walking, stop pulling her, turn and talk to her. She’d never seen him this upset, and she didn’t know how to handle it.
“No, you haven’t,” he tossed over his shoulder. “You knew what you were doing.”
“Okay, so what?” she challenged him. “I thought you liked me. I was wrong. If you hate me as much as the rest of this town does, that’s fine—”
“You know I don’t.”
He swung her around, planted her in one spot by the brick wall that made up one side of the alley. She didn’t dare move. Panting as though he’d just run a marathon instead of dragging her a hundred feet, he stood there, hands on his hips, staring at her but saying nothing.
She couldn’t let the silence descend again. “What?”
He held up his hand like he was stopping traffic, then turned his arm so he could check his watch.
“Hey—”
Will held up his hand once more. She fell silent. No easy feat for her, and she was sure he knew it. What the hell was he doing? Now he wasn’t looking at her at all, just staring at his watch. After a moment, he let out a long breath and said simply, “Okay.”
“Okay what?”
“I’m off duty.”
Jordan had barely enough time to absorb the words, but not their meaning, when Will launched into her, slamming her against the wall. Hello, Officer. One hand against the wall, the other grasping her chin, he ducked his head, his heated lips closing over hers and stopping her breath. She didn’t care. William Nash was kissing the stuffing out of her, and that was all that mattered. It was nothing like she expected. But it was so, so much better. She’d expected gentle. She’d expected tentative. Hell, she’d expected chaste. This was none of those things.
He wasn’t rough, but he was insistent. And remarkably confident. Within seconds, he’d reduced her to a boneless mass of compliance, following wherever he led, out of sheer shock. Will’s lips were unbelievably soft, but the small amount of stubble after a long day at work, especially in the spot beneath the middle of his lower lip, was enticingly rough. The contrasting sensations made her crazy. A small sound escaped her—good grief, was that a whimper? But she couldn’t stop, especially when his tongue stole between her lips, seeking hers. She sank her fingers into his hair, shorter at the back but still far from a typical police officer’s close cut. She loved it. She played with his curls as she pulled him closer, farther into her.
When he drew back, but only a fraction, his eyes were glazed, his breathing heavy, apparently as stunned by what had just happened as Jordan was. And she was almost speechless. Almost, but not quite.
“Well, that was unexpected,” she said, working hard to keep the tremor out of her voice. “But, you know, surprises are good—”
“Jordan?” He was staring at her mouth.
“Yeah?”
“Shut up.”
And he was on her again, with more of his hungry kisses, seeking, devouring. This time she was ready, and she opened to him, matching him touch for touch, reaching, pressing in, until they were a frenzied, jumbled match of limbs and lips . . . and wills. Teeth colliding, lips bruising, tongues tangling. Will’s hands were on her cheeks, then her neck, reaching for her waist. Jordan wanted more. He was still too far away. She wiggled her arms downward between them, her elbows knocking into his. Tucking her fingers into his belt, she yanked him toward her until he stumbled into her. Instead of pulling away, he pushed into her even more, rocking his hips against hers. She pressed her body to Will’s until she drew a groan from him, so deep it seemed to vibrate through his entire body, outward, and into hers.
“Good golly, Officer Nash,” Jordan stammered when she could speak again. “Where have you been all my life?”
“I . . .” His eyes closed, he pressed his forehead against hers, his hands hot on her lower back. “I don’t know why I did that.”
Jordan couldn’t stop the grin stealing across her lips. “Well, you know . . .” Will pulled back a fraction to look at her tentatively. “You don’t need a reason. But I’m going to go out on a limb here and say . . . because you wanted to.”
“That doesn’t make it right.”
“Felt pretty right to me.” At his continued hesitation, she sighed, losing patience already. “Look.” She pointed downward. He resisted. She rolled her eyes. “I’m not trying to get you to look at my boobs again, I swear.” He fidgeted, embarrassed at the memory. “Look,” she insisted, kicking him gently on the side of his leg. “No monitor. I’m no longer in custody. And not your responsibility anymore either. Get it?”
Will stared at her ankle, then looked back up at her. “True.”
“So relax, okay?”
Oh no. There was that look. He was thinking. She resisted the urge to shake him and insist he just go with his gut for once.
“Technically,” he eventually said, slowly, “there’s nothing wrong with . . . this. What just happened.”
“Good morning.”
“And technically, we can do whatever we want.”
“He finally gets it. So . . . what exactly do you want to do?” she added in a sultry voice, pulling him in for another kiss.
Whatever he said was drowned out suddenly by an ear-splitting squawk from his radio. He straightened up, lowered the volume, and listened closely. The only words she could make out in all the dispatcher’s warbling were “intoxicated” and “Main Street.” Will grabbed the mic at his shoulder and responded in police jargon, then turned back to Jordan reluctantly.
“I’ve gotta take this.”
“You said you were off duty.”
“Only just. And I’m closest. It’s what we do.”
Trying to ignore the huge lump of disappointment in her stomach, she said, doing her best to sound chipper, “Okay, come to the house after you’re done.”
“This might take a while.”
“I don’t care.”
Will hesitated, and the lump of disappointment got bigger and heavier. Was he suddenly regretting this? Changing his mind?
“I don’t think I should.”
Jordan growled with frustration. “You’re overthinking this—” but she stopped when she saw the corner of his mouth curl up in a smile. “What?”
“You don’t get it. We’re going to do this right.”
What was he talking about, “right”? How much more “right” could this get? It was just something you did or you didn’t do, but if he walked away now it was probably going to be the latter and she didn’t think she was going to be able to take another minute of—
“Tomorrow,” he declared, straightening his uniform.
“What about tomorrow?”
“I’ve got the day off tomorrow; I’ll pick you up. We’re going to have a real date.”
A what? The lump of disappointment froze into a giant block of trepidation. She wanted to jump him. Right now. That’s where her head was. But she could see it in his eager look—he was talking dressing up and going out and dinner and holding hands and a goodnight kiss at the door and there was no way she was going to . . .
But she only smiled back, nodded, and said, “You’d better get going. I don’t think the criminals wait around for the police—not even in Marsden.”