Bella

“Logan’s a beast.” From the window, I watch the trees sway and the rain come down in angry, gray sheets.

“Yeah this storm’s going to do a lot of damage.”

Knowing it’s the worst spot to be in a hurricane, I move away from the window and over to the boxes Evan stacks in the corner.

“You really don’t have to help with these,” Evan tells me.

“Listen, we’re stuck here for a while, so might as well.”

“Let me grab a few flashlights. I have a lantern too,” he glances around, “somewhere.”

I laugh a little.

But, before we can do anything, we lose power. Luckily, he finds two flashlights and a lantern in the kitchen.

He sets it on the dining room table and scans the kitchen. “Actually, we should kill everything in the fridge, it’s all dying in there anyway.”

I raise a brow. “Who’s our most critical patient.”

He crosses the room, and I follow him into the large kitchen filled with more cabinets than I’ve ever seen. “I think the ice cream is about to go.”

“I love ice cream...” I take a seat on a stool at the island. “...best put it out of its misery.”

I watch his shadowy profile grab a couple of spoons from a drawer before he comes over to the island with a barely touched pint of my favorite flavor—mint chocolate chip.

“Mind if we share? I don’t have any bowls. At least none that I can find right now.”

I dig my spoon into the carton. “Ok.”

Evan grins and clinks his spoon to mine. “Cheers.”

The awkwardness of being here with a complete stranger, really, falls away as we share ice cream. It’s almost like he’s no longer a cop. I know he still is, but he almost seems like a normal guy. Like someone I could be friends with.

I watch as he puts the spoon in his mouth and pulls it clean. His eyes catch mine and he grins. “What?” he asks.

“Nothing.” I smile. The soft glow of the lantern and flashlight, the storm roaring outside, and the heat soaking through my pores make this almost feel... romantic.

“You’re staring at me funny.”

I laugh. “No, I’m not.”

“Do I have ice cream all over my face?” he asks.

I smile at him, keeping our eyes connected. “No, but if it gets any hotter that might be a good idea.”

Flames lick my belly as his tongue cleans the spoon.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “This storm is going to last a while. No power, no TV, or anything really to do.”

The husky tone of his voice makes me think of a million things we could do. All bad things. Things like kissing, touching, licking ice cream from that damn dimple. I stand, tossing my spoon in the sink. “Let’s unpack.”

He rolls his eyes in a fun way. “A working hurricane party, sounds fun.”

“We’ll make it fun.” Again, with the sexuality. He must think I’m crazy.

His eyes smolder before he smiles. “Let me get a box cutter,” he says, keeping this strictly platonic.

Which it should be. I don’t know what my problem is. I feel like telling him I don’t normally do this sort of thing, but then again who does. He’s just doing his cop duties by letting a stranded girl stay here, but I can’t help wanting more.

We move into the living room and I set the lantern on the bookshelf while he slices through tape on the first box, then turns to face me. “No judging me on the contents of these boxes.”

“Oh, now I’m intrigued.”

He laughs. “Well, maybe we can grab a bottle of Fireball instead. Get drunk?”

“You do know I’m eighteen, right?”

He rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, probably a bad idea.”

I eye him curiously for a moment.

“You really must not want me to see what’s in these boxes.”

“I’m kidding. I really think it’s just boring stuff.”

I peek into the box. “I doubt you’re anything but boring.”

“I’m pretty boring,” he says, taking out a Star Wars blanket. “See, boring.”

I pull out a t-shirt with a giant taco on it that reads, ‘I’m into fitness. Fitness taco in my mouth.’ I turn back to him and raise a brow.

“It was a gift.” He grabs it from my hand, balls it into his fists, and tosses it onto the couch.

“Mhm,” I say, removing two cool taco bookends and placing them on his bookshelf. “You sure do have a thing for tacos, huh?”

His eyes smile. “I can't believe you just asked me that.”

My face flushes with embarrassment. “I didn't mean it like that.”

“Mhm.” He laughs. We continue through the box until it's empty. “I probably would never have fully unpacked,” he says, looking around at the items littering the room.

“Well, I’m glad I could help.” And I really am glad. I feel like I got a glimpse into the man who owns things like a taco shirt.

“I appreciate it.” He turns back to another box and opens it, revealing all his kitchenware inside. “Found the bowls.”

The wind howls, and a snap of thunder crashes. Evan turns toward the glass. “We should probably get away from the windows. I didn’t have time to board them up with working all the time.”

“You didn’t ask any of the guys at the station for help?” I ask him.

“Nah.” He rubs his chin. “No one I trust there.”

“I wonder what people would think if they knew I was here...with you.”

“Bella,” he says slowly, “there’s something you need to understand about me from the get-go.”

“I’m listening.”

“I don’t allow anyone to dictate my life. If I want to do something, I do it. If I want something, I take it. Life’s not supposed to be constricting. I’ll never live that way.”

“Doesn’t that kind of contradict what you do for a living?”

“How so?” He grabs two smaller boxes and takes them into the dining room where there’s no windows.

“You’re a cop,” I answer, following him.

He looks over his shoulder at me. “You think I ruin people’s lives by making them abide by the law?”

“No, I just think it’s a bit hypocritical sometimes. Some of the cops around here think they’re above the law.”

“We all get the same playing field. If I get caught breaking the law, being a cop won’t get me out of the jam I put myself in. I’ll have to pay the same cost as anyone else. But it’s a chance I’m willing to take for the things I want to do and the things that I just...fuck, want.”

“Have you ever broken the law?”

“No…” he almost sounds unsure of his answer.

“Is that the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, Officer Lacuna?” Because, I almost don’t know if I believe him.