Confess (The Blue Line Series Book 1) (27 page)

She glanced at his waist. Not even a hint of his weapon or his badge.

Mitch took a long swig of beer, deflecting her glare with the mug. “There are other departments.” He said it as if he’d been referring to something as simple as choosing a different brand of razor.

“But you loved Nashville. You worked hard for that job. You can’t just walk away.” God, she wanted to kick him under the bar. “You’re making a huge mistake, Mitch.” What the hell was he thinking throwing away a hard earned career for her?

His eyes darkened. “People don’t make mistakes, Angel. They only make the best choices possible. Besides, I hear Rebel is down an officer, and it seems I need a new life goal. I thought I’d give being a training officer a try.”

A spark of heat ignited in her belly. Under the shade of his dark lashes, she found the man who’d taken her to bed on that first night and made her orgasm with his boxers around her waist. She rubbed her legs together, remembering the feel of his fingers working the cotton along her core.

“I brought you something.” He smiled, pulling a rectangular box of playing cards from his jacket pocket.

“What are those for? Were you planning to bet me to forgive you?”

“If I had to.” His eyes sparkled in the dim light. “But I had a better idea. My turn to pick the game. Five cards, no draws. You win, I leave Rebel and never look back. I win and you end up in my bed tonight.”

“Locked door and eggs?”

“No.” His voice was rough. “I don’t make promises I can’t keep.”

Lacy watched him shuffle and deal out five cards. One at a time, she pulled hers from the bar. Three of a kind, kings high.

Mitch flashed one of his panty-melting grins and laid down a pair of eights. “Show your hand.”

A group of men crowded the bar, giving drink orders to Connie. Lacy felt her cheeks flush at the hungry look in Mitch’s eyes, as if every man in the bar could read his explicit thoughts. She had to get him out of there.

One look at Connie was enough to get her approval.

Lacy stacked her cards back in her hand and shoved them into the stack on the bar. “I guess that makes you the winner. I only had a pair of threes. But I’m not going home with you. That was my first mistake.”

“Liar.” The husk in his voice reverberated straight to her core. There was no denying, when it came to Mitch Kilpatrick, she’d never win. “We don’t make mistakes. Only choices.”

“Meet you out back?” she asked Mitch, eyeing the cards he shuffled in his hands. Her mind raced with ideas of things he’d try with the cards.

He stood, his presence pushing Lacy’s patrons to Connie’s the side of the bar. “No,” he answered.

Lacy’s heart skittered. She tried to read his reaction.

“There’s no way in hell I’m ever letting you slip out of my life again, even if it’s just out the back door and just for a minute. Now that I’ve got you, I’m never letting you go.”

“You know, at some point you will have to let me go. I will need to use the bathroom after all.”

His laugh brightened his whole face. “Then I’ll build an outhouse next to the damn bed, crescent moon cut in the door and all, because, Angel, I don’t intend to ever let you leave me again.”

She looked down her lashes at him and grinned. “How do you plan to do that? Ropes and chains?”

The slight nod of his head sent a shiver along the back of her neck. “Now you’re getting the idea, though I think we’re done with ropes for good. How do you feel about cuffs?”

Lacy leaned over the bar. Her lips brushed his ear. A new bravado bubbled deep inside. “But this time, you’re going to be the one cuffed, and I’m going to make you come in your boxers.”

Heat blushed her cheeks when she leaned back and looked into the devilish smile forming in his hazed eyes. “Whatever you want, Angel. As long as you promise to still be there in the morning.”

“Scrambled eggs?” she added, discarding her apron behind the bar and tugging him toward the door.

He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close until they passed the back exit. Then he pressed her against the brick exterior of the bar, his mouth hovered over hers, his fingers twirled a loose wisp of hair from around her face. His breath brushed along her face. “I’ll make you the best fucking scrambled eggs you’ve ever had in your life if you promise to give me another chance. I’m not perfect.” He cupped her shoulders with his hands and pulled her in tight. “But you make me want to fucking try.”

Lacy swallowed the building sob threatening to break free. “We’ll start with the eggs,” she said, forcing a smile to hide how desperately she wanted to kiss him. “Then we’ll tackle perfection.”

That seemed to be all he needed to hear. His lips pressed to hers. “It’s a deal.” He pressed a smile into her mouth. “It’s a damn fucking deal, Angel.”

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