Page 33 of Jasmine Street Blues

She laughed a little, but the laughter didn’t last. Half asleep, as naked as he was, Loran kissed his chest as she ran one hand down his hip. It would be easy to roll her onto her back and slip inside her, to give them both what they wanted.

He reached for the bedside table and a condom, but as he wrapped his fingers around one an unwelcome sound interrupted what he’d thought to be an unstoppable train. Someone was knocking on his front door. The knock was followed by the doorbell.

The ring of the doorbell yanked Loran out of her trance. “Oh my God, what was I thinking?” she asked, yanking away the top sheet, leaving him exposed. She wrapped the sheet around her body and ran for the bathroom as the doorbell rang a second time.

She hadn’t been thinking at all. Neither had he. It had been nice for a while, not to think.

He pulled on a pair of jeans and walked toward the front door, as another knock sounded. In the living room he grabbed his clothes and Loran’s from the floor and tossed them into the hallway so they wouldn’t be in full view of whoever was on the other side of that door.

He yanked the door open, a vile curse on his lips. That curse died when he saw who stood there. “Ms. Vernon,” he said, looking down at his next door neighbor, who’d come bearing a plate of muffins. Blueberry.

“I’ve told you a hundred times to call me Marian.”

“Marian,” he said.

“I couldn’t sleep past four this morning, you know how it is, so I whipped up a batch of your favorites.” She lifted the plate high. “I also wanted to check on today’s plan. Will I be keeping an eye on the boys again? I have to say, I rather enjoyed the job yesterday.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I felt like a spy, and it was great fun!”

He hadn’t even thought about the Three Bs this morning. His mind had been elsewhere. Reality was a bitch.

“They should be here soon,” Marian said. “It’s almost eight.”

“It is?” He rarely slept this late.

His enthusiastic neighbor handed over the plate of muffins, then waved fingers in his direction. “Yes, it is. You should put on a shirt so you’ll be decent when they arrive. The Police Chief should set a good example for the young men of the town.” Her head tilted to one side. “Well, no wonder you slept late,” she whispered. She raised her voice a little to say, “Good morning, young lady. Do you like blueberry muffins?”

Mac turned his head. Loran, fully dressed and bending over to collect her shoes from the floor, looked as if she was about to bolt.

He didn’t want her to run from him. Not now, not ever.

Mac thanked Marian and closed the door, while the old lady continued to ogle Loran. Before he could say a word, he heard the boys on the back porch. “We’re here, Chief,” Brant yelled.

Loran hurried toward the front door. Yeah, she definitely looked like a runner.

“I’ll drive you home. Give me a few minutes.”

“I can walk,” she said. She was in a kind of panic, he saw it on and in her. “I don’t open until ten so I have time. It was nice… I don’t want to…” She stopped with her hand on the doorknob, took a deep breath, and turned to him. “I need to calm down, and a walk will help. This is new for me, unexpected. You’re unexpected. She went up on her toes, kissed him briefly, and then grabbed a muffin from the plate he continued to hold. “Call me.”

With that she was gone, a whirlwind of wavy hair, gauzy blue fabric, and most terrifying of all, change.

He turned toward the back of the house, dropped the muffins on the coffee table, then stepped into the hallway to snatch the shirt he’d worn last night from the floor. He pulled it on as he walked toward the porch where Bubbles and three boys waited. When had his house turned into Grand Central?

Billy peered through the glass in the back door. How long had he been watching? The kid grinned widely. “Ooh,” he said as Mac opened the door. “I thought you said she was a girl and a friend, not a girlfriend.”

“Mind your own business.”

All three boys laughed, but he silenced them with a glare.

“Same deal as yesterday, but I’m going to call around and find someone local who can give Bubbles a bath.”

“We can do it!” Brendan said with too much boyish enthusiasm.

“No.” The idea of these three hooligans with a hose and some soap… just no. A local mobile groomer had a van with a painting of a soapy poodle on the side. That would work. “Walk him, make sure he has food and water, maybe play with him a while. That’s it.”

After all four Bs left the porch, and the yard, Mac headed for the shower.

After years of keeping an emotional distance from everyone, focusing on Carrie to the exclusion of all else, he now had a dog and a woman in his life. Bubbles and Loran. He’d fought both of them, at least a little, but now they were his and he’d protect them as best he could.

Worse, he was beginning to like the boys more than he should. They weren’t bad kids, they were just misguided. Bored. Hell they were thirteen. Why should he expect anything else from them? At thirteen he’d been a real pain in the ass.