saturn eras. 🪐

"You slept with him?" Lucy screams so loudly that you have to lift the phone from your ear in order to avoid your eardrum from rupturing.

"Jesus, Lucy," you sigh, pulling another shirt from the trash bag and looking at it.

"I can't believe you slept with Joel Fucking Miller!"

"Keep it down," you hiss, throwing the shirt on the donation pile. "And I didn't sleep with him!"

You hear a ruffling and some animal sounds on the other side of the line. "Who is supposed to hear, huh? It's just the Mean Girls and me out here."

The "Mean Girls" are a couple of feisty, older chickens that don't really lay eggs anymore, but Lucy keeps in a little coop near her house to roam free and get up to all kinds of mischief. You can hear her sit down and exhale. "So did you or did you not take our trusted chief for some afternoon delight?"

"Why did you just say that? You sound like my uncle Jeff."

"Answer the question, babe."

You sigh. "We did sleep next to each other, but nothing really happened."

"What do you mean by really?" Lucy asks.

"Well," you start, sitting down on the chair by the window. "Something minor happened, but he was sleeping or dreaming or whatever so it doesn't really count."

"I'm sorry, did you just say minor? Please, elaborate on that."

You sigh and tell her what happened this morning. There is a long stretch of silence where you wonder whether Lucy has fallen into a ditch and then she screams again.

"Oh my god!" Lucy exclaims. "We definitely need to reevaluate your system for ranking the kind of somethings that happen with other people. And if it happened, it counts."

"He was dreaming. It wasn't real," you say.

"He obviously was acting out his own dream, which means he was dreaming about you, which means you have made it into his subconsciousness, which makes it even more major," Lucy says, some of the chickens shrieking in the distance, "way to go, femme fatale."

"It was just a dream," you insist, "I dream about all kinds of stupid stuff that I don't necessarily want to happen in real life."

"I can totally call Tara and hear what she has to say about it. She usually does like card readings, but she can definitely do a dream reading for you."

"Please don't tell a soul," you say, "you have to promise me, Lucy."

"I was joking, I won't tell anyone," she says. "And I'll have a stern word with the Girls about their silence on this."

"What the fuck am I doing, Luce?" You say, burying your head in your left hand. "They're all downstairs. If my brother knew, he'd-"

"But he doesn't," Lucy interrupts, "and he won't suspect anything weird, if you just keep it together for another twenty minutes and then you're out of there. Don't you also have to be ready soon for later?"

Right. Later. You had almost forgotten in all of this mess. The mess that had started a while back but probably only really made you rethink your position when Joel opened his front door this morning.

The silence is deafening. It is so quiet that even the sound of the birds announcing the day is unsettling. There are exactly four pairs of eyes staring at you right this moment. Each of them oozing that particular shade of confusion when you have no idea what the fuck is going on. Except one pair, which is just staring with a twinkle that suggests amusement rather than shock.

Maybe this is why Tommy is the first to speak out of all of them. The moment he opens his mouth you feel Joel tense up next to you even more.

"Oh great, you came!" Tommy exclaims and starts to make his way up the porch. He quickly closes the distance between you two and engulfs you into a tight hug that leaves his mouth very close to your right ear, where he whispers an almost silent "Smile and nod" into it.

So you do as you're told for once and smile, moving your head in a nodding motion. Tommy lets go of you and turns back to the boys.

"What are you doing here?" Casey asks, setting down the cooler hanging over his shoulder.

You open your mouth to say something, but Tommy grabs your shoulder. "I told her to come."

"Why?" Casey frowns.

"I've got all this shit stored in Joel's guest room because of the renovations and I told her she could come and look through it while we all play."

"Clearly she's already started," Casey says, pointing to your pants, "what are you even wearing?"

You shrug, looking down at Joel's pyjama pants. "I needed new loungewear."

Casey shakes his head, grinning. "You've always been a bit of a snoop, I guess."

"Do you even know how much vintage clothes are worth these days?" You say and try to sound as casual as you can.

"But this is boys brunch," one of the other guys says.

"You'll just have to endure the presence of a woman for once, Charlie," Tommy says.

Charlie huffs and the others chuckle, while making their way into the house. When Casey passes you, he shakes his head. "If you want to eat, you will have to help make breakfast."

"Aye, brother," you say and salute him playfully.

Once everyone has shuffled inside, Joel shuts the door, a firm, tight grip on the handle. He exhales audibly, but does not turn toward you. You can hear the men talking in the kitchen, rummaging around, the sound of a table being set filling the air.

"Why didn't you tell me they were coming?" You say.

"I forgot." Joel closes his eyes for a couple of seconds, then opens them. "It was supposed to be next week, Casey moved it up so he could take the league out of state for a game next weekend."

"Jesus," you say, running your hands over your face.

"I think you should go," he says.

You frown. "Are you crazy? If I leave now, my brother will definitely think something is off."

"And now he doesn't?"

"Now he just thinks I may have hit my head a little too much as a child," you say, leaning back against the wall. "So nothing out of the ordinary."

Joel hums and turns around. "Okay."

"Okay?" You say, "that's it?"

"Yes, that's it." He gives you a stern glance and walks toward the kitchen without another word.

And now you're sitting up here in Joel's guest room that has now turned into Tommy's storage unit, sorting through old clothes, sports equipment and CDs, while trying to convince Lucy that you definitely did not take the older Miller brother for any kind of delight. At least consciously, on purpose.

"You still there?" Lucy takes you out of your spinning mind.

"Yes, sorry," you say, "I should probably get going."

"Sure, sure," she says. "Let me know how everything turns out and definitely text me later."

You tell her you will and hang up the phone right as someone knocks on the door.

"Yes?" You say and the door of the guest room opens slowly. You don't think you do, but once you see who is standing in the doorway, you realise that you'd wished for someone else to come looking for you up here.

Tommy grins and steps into the room. "Find anything worth saving yet?"

"Tons," you say, pointing toward the pile in front of you. "You've got some cool stuff."

"I'm glad," Tommy says, taking a glance over his shoulder and taking another step into the room, leaving the door ajar.

"Thanks by the way," you say, "for your help."

"Don't mention it." Tommy waves it off. "Listen-"

"It's not what it looks like," you say and Tommy's eyebrows rise.

"It's not?"

You shake your head. "No, it's not."

"So you guys didn't almost get killed on a routine check up by some crazy dude out in the field and Joel let you stay here so you wouldn't have to explain that to your parents?"

Your eyes widen at his deduction.

"Oh, yes, then it's exactly what it looks like," you correct and Tommy nods.

"Thought so," he says, pushing his longer locks behind his ears.

"How did you know?" Your eyebrows drawing into a frown.

"Tyler is a friend of mine."

"Oh right, the paramedic. Who else knows?"

"No one," Tommy says, "the boys in blue are a tight knit bunch."

"Good," you exhale.

Tommy crosses his arms. "You could have been killed."

"I know," you say. "Did you tell Casey?"

Tommy chuckles. "If your brother knew, do you really think you would be sitting here right now?"

"Fair enough."

"You need to be more careful."

"Please," you lift a hand. "I've already had enough lectures from your brother on this topic."

"Figures," Tommy says.

"Then please spare me the speech."

"Listen," Tommy says, "I know what he can be like, you know. But- but he's just trying to-

"Protect me, I know," you say.

Tommy shakes his head. "That too. But I meant to say that it's his way of showing that he cares."

"About what?"

"About you."

You hold Tommy's gaze. He's almost got the same eyes as Joel, just not as dark, always light, always friendly, always giving you a good feeling while you're looking at them. But now they're conveying a notion that you might not be ready to comprehend yet.

"He's doing his job, Tommy. Nothing more, nothing less."

"He's not made of stone, Darling. Keep that in mind," Tommy says and turns to open the door. "Now let's get you home, shall we? I'll have Casey pick up those clothes some other time."

You nod and get up to follow him down the stairs into the living room where you can already hear the boys laughing from the adjacent dining area. Trying to catch Joel's eye, you look around the table, but find him cleaning dishes in the kitchen. Casey spots you first.

"Find some good stuff?"

"Sure did", you say, walking past him into the kitchen.

Joel's back is turned to you, his shoulders flexing with every move of his arm, scrubbing the pan in the sink. He doesn't look up, his face taut.

"Do you need any help with that?" You ask, tentatively.

A quick shake of his head. "No, I got it." His eyes flash to the side, barely grazing you before focusing on the sink again. The sound of the water splashing against the metal fills the room, mixing with Casey's voice resounding from behind.

"Let's go, you don't want to be late for your hot date later," Casey calls into the kitchen.

The sound of the pan dropping loudly into the sink startles all of you, as Joel curses under his breath.

"Neither hot, nor a date, Casey," you correct him and again try to find Joel's gaze, who now is scrubbing at that pan like he's trying to make a genie pop out. You can't deny yourself the short peak at his hands, dripping wet, covered in remaining bits of foam carelessly sliding across, probably slightly warm from the water.

"Agree to disagree," Casey says and knocks on the door frame. "Thanks again for hosting, Joel."

Joel grunts something and Casey leaves the kitchen, shouting another lets go across his shoulder.

"Listen-" You start, but Joel cuts you off.

"You sure move fast, Darlin'," he drawls, so viciously, it wouldn't surprise you if venom were dripping from his teeth.

"Are you serious?" You say, crossing your arms.

He shakes his head, a single lock slipping into his eyes. "And here I thought I was getting special treatment."

Despite his words, Joel's face is a trained mask of indifference.

"Is that it?" You say, "Want me to tell you you're special, Joel? That you're a good boy?"

He turns off the faucet and meets your gaze, eyes like ice. "You get on your knees for him too or is that just for me?"

You scoff. "Maybe I will," you say, "and I'll make sure he'll be awake to enjoy it."

The mask slips for a split second, his jaw ticking just the slightest bit, a wave of uneasiness grazing across his face.

"He will as much as the next guy."

As you hear Casey honk outside a couple of times, you shake your head and turn to walk out of the kitchen.

"I hope you were paying attention while it lasted, Miller," you say, "because to you, it's never going to happen again."

You don't wait for his answer, but make your way out of his house in quick long strides toward your brother's car, hoping that your pride wasn't the only thing you've left behind in Joel Miller's house.

Sebastian is waiting for you in front of the restaurant. He had offered to pick you up, but you felt like giving him your home address would make this outing much less official than it needed to be. Lori had reminded you a week ago that his office had called multiple times to schedule a date and she needed you to confirm one of three suggested time slots. You reminded yourself that this was all for a good cause and even though Joel had told you repeatedly to refrain from letting the mayor cash in his prize, you figured that a dinner wouldn't hurt. And you had promise Lori, whose bad side you definitely did not want to be on.

As if on cue, his eyes light up in a sparkle as he spots you walking towards him.

"Hello there," he says and without any hesitation engulfs you in a hug that isn't necessarily intimate but definitely unprofessional. "You look like a vision."

"Thank you, Sebastian," you say, glancing down at your dress. In the end Lucy had decided on this one. After a long time of going back and forth whether smart casual or casual would be the best choice, instead Lucy had decided on a dress long enough to be decent, but short enough to be lit up by fire upon entering a church.

"Shall we?" He asks and you take his arm. You're surprised to find that the place is packed and as you prepare to wait in the line in front of the reception desk, Sebastian leads you past it and with a nod toward the waiter, walks straight toward the back of the restaurant. At the table in the very corner of the back end, Sebastian comes to a halt and motions for you to slide into the booth, facing the restaurant.

"I've taken the liberty of having my team preselect our menu for tonight. I hope that agrees with you," he says, "I made sure to check with your secretary for any allergies."

"You mean Lori?"

"Yes," he says.

You shrug, never liking people making decisions for you. "That's okay."

"So tell me, are you already bored of the field work and can't wait to join my team?"

You chuckle. "And what makes you think that?"

Sebastian leisurely leans back in his chair. "The last time I recall your boss being pretty adamant about you not leaving the station or his sight for that matter."

"He doesn't take well to disrespect."

"He doesn't take to respect either, it seems."

Obviously, you're fed up with the chief today, but the way this conversation is headed does not suit you in the slightest.

"He's always been respectful with me," you say.

Sebastian waves it off. "Enough talk of your boss. I'd rather know how you ended up back here for the summer after deciding to leave."

So you tell him. The conversation is easy and flows, attributing mainly to Sebastian's skilled way of questioning and your decision to be open and honest. He does not speak much of himself and by the main course you don't think you've learned anything else about him apart his love for the X-Files and that he grew up with two sisters.

He's just interested enough, funny enough and smart enough to not be boring. The swoop of his hair is straight out of a hallmark movie and looking at him makes you wish there was something at least a little crooked in his appearance. It's a charming enough date and as you're wondering if he's actually thinking this might lead to something, Sebastian excuses himself to take a call.

After a couple of minutes he returns, looking a little flushed.

"Everything okay?"

"Yes," he nods his head and chuckles, "I mean, it is a small town, but what are the odds, huh?"

You frown. "I'm not following."

"It's funny because we just talked about him."

"About whom?"

"Your boss, the chief," Sebastian declares, "I just ran into him at the entrance. I think he's on a date."

The noise of the restaurant morphs into a distant murmur in the back of your head. "He is what?"

Sebastian leans in a little, as if your question gave the impression of a secret to be discussed between you two, an alliance about to be formed. "He was standing with a woman, waiting to be seated. Oh, and she was holding onto his arm. Seemed like a date to me."

You shake your head. "I can't believe it," you mutter.

"Right? I don't think I've ever seen him on a date since I've started in local politics. And that was like fifteen years ago."

You look up at Sebastian. "Would you excuse me for a moment?"

He seems surprised but immediately covers his expression with that of calm understanding. "Of course."

You nod and slide out of the booth. You can't believe it. The fucking nerve that man has. It's not even been two hours. How on earth did he get a date this quickly?

You make your way toward the front of the restaurant and are sure Sebastian has made a mistake, has seen some other man looking just like Joel from the back, but when your eyes scan the room, they find themselves stopping at a table by the window. The woman has her back toward you as you walk past at a safe distance, her dark brown hair falling in soft waves across her back. She's wearing a long flowery dress and at least from behind, she looks lovely. He's telling a story, smiling easily.

Nothing could have prepared you for the way your stomach drops as his eyes flick up to yours. You now realise that there had been an easiness to him before, a calm, sort of collected demeanour that disappeared right as he caught your glance. He is wearing a pitch black long-sleeve, making him look like a different person you haven't met, like he could be anyone. A trimmed beard and neatly tucked hair. An almost boyish allure to him. You see him lowering his glass of wine back onto the white tablecloth, a certain confusion on his face that is replaced by something entirely different almost immediately. Something you cannot quite place. You just know that you can't hold his gaze for longer and break away toward the restrooms before you make a fool out of yourself.

The cold water on your cheeks does little to actually cool the temper you feel rising up inside your chest. What the fuck is he even doing here? How did he know? And did he know or is this just some fucked up way of the universe to make me face the consequences of my decisions? Why now, Jesus?

Regaining the minimum amount of composure, you step out of the restroom, into the little hallway, where there are two velvet chairs and a rack of postcards with silly jokes on them. As you wonder who would sit down in front of the restrooms, the door leading back to the restaurant swings open.

You can feel him before you even see him, the sound of his steps against the tiled floor giving him away almost instantly. Waiting for the blow that you know is coming, you inhale deeply before turning your head towards him. Joel comes to a halt about two steps away from you. As if he were trying to create a safe distance, a risk management measure to reject any unwanted behaviour. He opens his mouth but you're faster and way more riled up.

"What the fuck are you doing here, Miller?" Your voice comes out less like a growl and more like a hiss.

"Minding my own business," he says, "as should you."

"And were you going to do that before or after you crash my date?"

"I'm not crashing anything," he states matter of factly.

"You do realise that a couple of hours ago you were giving me shit about coming here and now I find out from Sebastian of all people you're on a date?"

Joel's jaw hardens. "You're here with the mayor?"

"Yes," you say. "He saw you outside."

"Of course you are," Joel scoffs, "you like assholes now, huh?"

"Fits right in with you, doesn't it?"

His nostrils flare for a second. "I told you not to go out with him."

"It's part of the auction deal, Miller."

"I did not sign off on that," he states.

"He arranged it with Lori last week," you say.

He curtly shakes his head. "No one runs anything by me anymore, Jesus Christ!"

"I'm just holding up my end of the bargain."

"And what does that entail?"

"It's a business dinner."

"That doesn't answer my question," Joel says.

The door to the restaurant opens and before you can step away from Joel, he has grabbed your arm and pulled you through a door off to the side into a dark room.

"What the-" You start.

Then Joel turns on the light, which is just a lightbulb dangling from the ceiling, illuminating the small room just enough to see that it's the supply closet. As if it had just occurred to you know, you begin to feel that the distance between you and Joel has disappeared entirely. Maybe a hand could fit between you two now. The faint light is almost entirely swallowed by the dark of his eyes, staring down at you. His breath is warm against your lips. You can sense the faint smell of wine. Being in such a close proximity to him, knowing what happened just a couple of hours ago, where is hand had been, it feels almost unreal. Dreamlike.

"What are you doing?" You ask.

"I need you to answer the damn question," Joel replies, sternly.

"He's just getting what he bought at the auction."

"Special treatment?" Joel furrows his brows.

"Dinner, Joel," you reply, "who do you think I am?"

"If it's just dinner, why are you wearing that fucking dress?" As if on their own accord, his eyes move down your body, grazing along the shape of your dress. Daringly clinging to its curves.

"Because I like it!" You hiss.

"Does he get to take it off? Is that part of the bargain too?" He asks, mockingly.

You scoff. "You're unbelievable you know that? How dare you ask me that question when you've managed to find someone else to spend the evening with in under two hours?"

Joel runs a hand over his face. "It's not what it looks like."

"Sure," you say, "when has that line ever worked? You're such a fucking hypocrite, Miller."

"I'm a hypocrite?" Joel's voice raises its volume ever so slightly. "You knew that you were going out with him for a week and you didn't tell me. You know I fucking hate that guy and how he treats people. He's the reason we need to have a fucking auction because he's pulled most of the funding. You sat on my couch knowing that. And now he gets to sit across from you and look at you in that dress undisturbed and I have to watch. So don't give me that feigned innocence."

"I thought Lori would-"

"You wore my clothes and slept in my bed, goddammit," Joel interrupts, his finger pointing to his own chest, pressing down on the dark fabric of his shirt. "You should have told me."

"Why does it matter? You would have told me not to go and I still would have ended up going."

"It matters to me," he says.

"I didn't try to purposefully keep it from you," you say earnestly. And to be real, you had just forgotten to tell him about it. Especially after what had happened yesterday, it didn't occur to you that it might have mattered anymore.

"Your knees were on my floor," he whispers.

You have grown silent, as he inhales shakily.

He steps away from you. "I should go."

"If it's so fucking important to you who I go out with, why don't you just do something on purpose instead of waiting for your dreams to do it for you?"

Joel's face hardens visibly even in the dim light. "You know I can't," he says.

"Sure you can," you say, "you just won't."

"We're done here." Joel turns toward the door and opens it without another word.

"Coward," you say under your breath as he leaves the closet and shuts the door forcefully behind him.

You lean your back against the wall and exhale heavily. "Fuck." You let your eyes close for a second, trying to gather the strength to leave a room for the third time today. After a couple of seconds, as you step forward to reach for the handle, you hear steps outside. Not wanting to explain to someone why you're hiding in the supply closet, you patiently wait for the footsteps to fade out. But they don't.

Intuition makes you move away from the door right before it is pushed open as forcefully as it just had been shut a minute ago. Joel's body takes up the whole doorway for two seconds, before he moves inside, closing the door behind him. You're looking at him confused. His body is tense, the palm of his hands curled into fists by his legs and his face pulled into that stoney exterior you have grown to recognise. Joel's eyes take their time wandering down your figure and back up again. It is almost a lifetime later, as he relives you both and closes the distance between your worlds.

A traumatic event can make you do things you normally wouldn't. Like alcohol, it might bring up certain feelings that wouldn't come up on the regular. Pulling up what's been buried deep in your belly under layers and layers of self-deflection. But you know very well while seeing Joel Miller sitting on the couch in front of you that it is only reinforcing whatever possible emotion you've been harbouring in that silly little heart of yours, which now seems to pull so tight on its strings that you're struggling to breathe.

As you pop the first button of your shirt open, Joel grabs the sofa cushion next to him. "Christ," he hisses.

His breathing hitches, as his eyes take in the view.

"Tell me to stop, Joel," you offer, but you can tell from the way his eyes are sticking to your body that he isn't going to take you up on it anytime soon. Lavishly he takes in every inch of skin that you're showing to him. You're desperate and he's enjoying it.

He shifts his seat and you can tell that he's not trying to hide his obvious arousal. You open another button and it feels almost as if you're revealing more than just your skin. From the strain on his arm, it looks like he's about to rip out part of the sofa. From his neck to his stomach, his whole torso is tensing up. He looks like he's in serious pain.

"Fuck," he mouths softly under his breath. His hand moves from the couch to his leg, grabbing his thigh. You know he's really trying. Really wanting to do the right thing. To be good. But you don't want him to be good.

"Come on now, Joel," you say, teasingly. "Don't make me wait."

He closes his eyes and slowly his breathing for a couple of seconds. His chest rising and falling rhythmically. When he opens them up again, his expression has changed. He looks more determined now, as if he had decided on something that he had been unsure about before.

When you're about you open another button, Joel suddenly moves forward. His hands grab your wrist and he pulls you up with him to a standing position. Bodies flush together now. His eyes are locked onto yours, as he exhales. His hips are pressing into yours, showing off.

"That's enough," he says sternly.

Your eyes widen in surprise. "Huh?"

"I said that's enough," he repeats.

You frown. "What's gotten into you all of a sudden?"

"Some sense," he replies, his eyes flicking to your opened shirt for a split second. His heaving chest is pressed against you and connecting to your exposed skin.

"I should take you home," he states.

"Why?"

"Because you're obviously not in your right mind."

"Excuse me?" You reply, "I'm perfectly sane."

"The fact that you were about to take your shirt off, tells me you are not."

You scoff. "You really think that badly of yourself, Miller?"

"Sorry?" His eyebrows drawing into a frown.

"You think it's so outrageous for a woman to want to take her clothes off in front of you that she must be crazy?"

"I think you're not thinking clearly right now and that you should go home," he says.

"Of course and I can feel your rationality through your pants perfectly well right now," you say.

Joel immediately puts some space between you two and narrows his eyes. "I won't start this with you."

"Start what?"

He gives his head a quick shake. "Go home."

"I told you, I don't want to," you snap.

"Not about what you want, but what's best, Darlin'," he drawls.

"Don't patronise me," you say, trying to pull back entirely, but a slight tug on his grip on your arm keeps you close.

Joel groans. "Quit being a brat then."

"I tried to be nice," you hiss, "but you wouldn't let me."

Joel chuckles. "I don't need you being nice."

"How do you need me then?" You ask, flicking your eyes to his lips, slightly parted. Joel's gaze darkens, the familiar soft specks in his eyes quickly turning to solid gold. He swallows hard.

"How 'bout fully dressed and in your own house?"

You sigh heavily. "I'm not ready to have a conversation with my parents right now about why my pants are ripped and I have a suspicious bandage on my leg."

"You really should go," he repeats.

"Please, don't make me," you reply, softly. Almost pleading.

After a couple of seconds that feel like an eternity, Joel nods, reluctantly.

"Fine," he groans, "then let's get you to bed."

Your eyebrows raise up and he huffs, his hand still firmly gripping your wrist.

"To sleep," he explains.

A small smile spreads on your lips.

"Alone," Joel adds and lets go of your arm entirely.

You roll your eyes and take a step back. "Fine."

Joel pulls his hair back and turns to walk out of the living room. You button up your shirt and follow him, as he walks up the stairs. The familiar walk up reminds you of the last time you were here and as you pass the bathroom, you can't help but inhale a sharp breath, thinking of the way his hands felt lifting you up on the sink. But instead of walking further to the guest room, Joel stops right in front of a different door, slightly ajar and pushes it open.

"You can sleep here," he says and makes space for you to step in. It's a cozy room with a navy bedspread, a wooden desk by the window and a leather chair in the corner, buried under some flannel shirts and a washed out pair of jeans. The first thing you notice is not the layout, but the smell. The room smells so intensely of Joel that it takes you a moment to tell your body to easy up. It's so...him. So full of it.

"This is your room," you state, turning to face him. He's leaning against a dark wooden dresser next to the door. His arms crossed in front of his still naked chest.

"Yes, it is," he replies matter of factly.

"Why am I sleeping in your room?"

"The guest room has been taken over by Tommy's stuff, because he's been redoing a couple of his rooms and I don't have any other space. So you'll have to sleep here," he says, "sheets are fresh."

You raise one eyebrow. "I thought you wanted me to sleep alone?"

"You will."

"Where will you sleep then?"

"I'll stay on the couch."

You shake your head. "No way."

"Way," Joel replies.

"I'm not making you sleep on the couch with a gun shot wound, Miller."

He rolls his eyes. "It's just a graze and I'm perfectly fine to sleep on my own couch."

"You won't get any sleep if you do so," you say. "I won't allow it."

Joel chuckles. "This is my house, Darlin'."

"I'm concerned for your well-being," you say.

"That's admirable, thanks. But I ain't getting into a bed with you."

"I don't think any man has ever said that to me before," you say.

Joel shrugs. "First time for everything."

"It's just for one night, Joel," you say, "and it's just sleeping. Nothing out of the ordinary. You do it every night."

"I won't support this need of you to get us into trouble," Joel says.

"You make it sound like I'm suggesting something unholy here."

"The lord is always watching, Sweetheart," Joel says, a slow grin appearing on the corner of his mouth.

"I don't think he minds a little action now and again," you say, walking over towards the bed.

Joel's eyes follow your movements closely as you sit down on the edge of the bed and let your body fall back onto it, glancing up at the ceiling.

A moment later some clothes land on your face.

"You can wear this," Joel says.

You lift your body up and untangle the clothes. It's a dark grey t-shirt and some washed out pyjama pants.

"Thanks," you say.

"If you need anything, just come downstairs."

"Just curious, what do you think would happen?"

"Huh?" Joel's eyebrows lift up.

"Do you think we'd go up in flames in the middle of the night or that a curse is going to be bestowed upon you?"

"I'm not superstitious," Joel rumbles.

"You don't believe in my ancestral ghosts coming to haunt you?"

"I got enough shit in real life to haunt me just fine," Joel says.

"And what would that be?"

Joel doesn't answer and just keeps staring at you on his bed. His jaw muscles clenching.

You sigh. "We can put the pillows in between, like a barrier."

"Come on now, Sweetheart, I'm tired and I can't argue anymore."

"Good," you say, standing up and walking over to him to grab his arm. "Then you should stop being a whiney little idiot and just get it together."

Joel's raspy laugh is soothing as he lets you pull him toward the bed. You pull back the comforter and grab the two large pillows. He sits down in the exact spot you were just in and groans, as he turns to rest his back against the headboard. You place the pillows next to him, forming a barrier in the middle of the bed.

"See? No room for any unholy business," you say and Joel shakes his head.

"I'll go get changed," you say and grab the clothes, before you walk out to the bathroom. You pull off your shirt and what remains of your pants, throwing on the shirt Joel gave you. It smells like fresh detergent and is a little thinned out from numerous wears. It's so warm in the house that you decide to ditch the long pants. The shirt falls to your mid thigh - should be enough decency for now.

After you grab two glasses of water from the kitchen, you head back up to the room. When you push open the door with your shoulder, Joel is still in the same position as before, now wearing a shirt, his lower body covered by the blanket. His head is lowered and he's looking at something on his phone. When you enter the room, he raises his head and his eyes go wide.

"I gave you pants. Where are your pants?" He says, sternly.

You shrug and make your way over to the bed, his eyes are practically glued to the point on your legs, where the shirt meets nothing but skin. "It's too warm for them."

"I don't care, put them on now," he says.

"You won't even see," you say, setting down one glass on the nightstand next to his side. You make your way over to the other side of the bed and set the other glass down.

"I'll know," Joel says, putting his phone next to the glass.

"You can dream about it then," you say.

"I wouldn't dare," Joel replies.

"See? All gone," you say, climbing under the comforter and nestling into the comfortable pillow. "You can breathe now, Miller."

He groans and turns to switch off the lights. There is a sudden silence that engulfs the both of you, as darkness fills the room.

After a couple of minutes you turn your head. "Joel?"

"For god's sake, Darlin'," Joel groans. "What is it?"

You take a breath. "Thank you."

In the darkness you hear his head turn towards you. "For what?"

"For being there, today."

"Just doing my job."

You turn your body toward him and you feel him immediately turn his head away.

"I'm really sorry," you say.

"And about what now?"

"I'm sorry for being such a bitch about coming out on the field."

He exhales heavily. "It's okay. It wasn't your fault."

"I should have listened to you," you say.

"Don't tell me you're developing manners now," Joel says.

"I should have listened to you, Mr. Miller," you repeat.

"Don't fucking call me that, when you're in my sheets," Joel replies, his voice nothing more than a growl.

Another beat of silence fills the air between you two. His and your breath together forming a soothing orchestra of calm.

"I know you feel like you want to be part of the action," Joel starts, "and I'm not trying to actively hold you back from something. I know I can't stop bad things from happening, but I can keep you out of their way."

You pull the blanket tighter around your chest. "I know."

"And I'm sorry about the other night at the dance with that guy. I wasn't trying to play the hero, I just-"

He exhales and you can hear him running a hand over his face.

"I know you don't owe me anything and I wasn't trying to make you feel like you couldn't handle things by yourself. Just- seeing him do that I- I just didn't think and I'm sorry. I overstepped," Joel says, his voice getting softer with every word.

"I'm sorry about what I said after," you whisper. "I didn't really mean it."

"I know," he says, turning away from you.

"I'd never mean that."

"I know, Darlin'. I know," Joel sighs. "Go to sleep now."

You sigh and close your eyes. "Good night."

"Hm," he hums and before you can let the day replay in your head, the exhaustion takes you whole and pulls you into a deep and restful sleep.

It's so hot you think you're going to die. Every part of your body is warm, too warm. It's like there is a hundred tiny suns directly above you, burning up your skin. You try to move, but you're wrapped up under the blanket that feels different than usual. Even the pillow has a different texture-

Your eyes fly open. You're not in your bed. You're in a different bed. The rays of sun are peeking through the curtains onto the floorboards. All at once you remember what happened last night and in whose bed exactly you're lying in. But before you can space out about anything that's happened, you turn your head to look down at the comforter. But the heat doesn't come from the comforter or the extra pillows that you see roughly scrunched up at the foot of the bed.

The chief of police is spread out across the bed and most importantly - across your body. His leg is draped over yours, hips neatly tucked behind you. One hand over your head, the other is wrapped around your naked stomach, your shirt pushed up to your ribs. Bicep tense and palm spread out, almost possessive, almost controlling. The heat of his touch stings you unbearably. But the worst of all isn't that he seems to have ditched his shirt throughout the night and the feel of his naked chest against your back. It's the sense of warmth that his breath creates against your neck, his lips insanely close, almost hovering over the nape of it. Your mind is never going to recover from this. Your body probably isn't either.

You try to turn a little to the side, but his grip on your stomach clenches and without hesitation, you feel his mouth against your skin.

"Not yet, Baby," Joel whispers, his voice dazed. His lips soft and wet against your neck.

"Joel," you whisper.

"Yes," he mumbles, his palm now moving across your skin. Lord have mercy.

This is not good, this is so not good. He must be dreaming, he must be-

"Fuck," a sharp breath escapes you as his fingers trail the underside of your breast. You know you have about two seconds to make a decision whether to jump or not and it takes you about one second to decide. The moment his hand has covered your chest, your back arches involuntarily, aggressively pressing your ass into him.

Joel hums, meeting the pressure of your hips so deliciously you could cry. You can feel him against your ass. His scruff is tickling roughly against your skin, as he draws his mouth down your neck, his thumb grazing your nipple. Your whole body is alert, as if he's just turned on every single cell of your skin. It's intoxicating. And definitely wrong.

"Joel," you try again, firmer this time, but he doesn't reply. He must be asleep still.

You turn your head, finally able to face him and after another moment of haze, his eyes flutter open. They immediately focus on you and a lazy smile appears on his lips. It's glorious. Your daydreams are about to be 10/10.

"Hey," he mumbles.

"Hey," you reply.

His eyes roam around your face and further down. "Are you oka-"

He stills for a moment. Every muscle in his body coming to a halt. A stillness that feels anything but welcoming. You imagine his heart freezing for the blink of an eye. And then he moves, rapidly. Joel yanks his hand away from you, practically jumping out of the bed.

"Fuck, fuck!" He shouts and throws on the shirt that's on the floor next to the bed. Seemingly ignoring the injury on his arm. After a moment he turns toward you. "I am so fucking sorry."

"It's okay," you say, "totally fine."

Joel puts his hands over his face. "Christ, I can't believe I just did that. What the fuck is wrong with me."

"You were sleeping," you say, getting up from the bed. "It's okay."

He looks at you and puts a hand up to stop you.

"Stay there and please put on some fucking pants," he says, breathing heavily, eyes fixed on your legs.

"You need to calm down, Joel," you say, kneeling on the bed.

His hands clench and he clears his throat.

"I shouldn't have done that. I shouldn't have brought you here, I shouldn't have slept in that fucking bed. Jesus Christ."

"It's okay," you repeat, "you were sleeping or dreaming or whatever. It happens. No big deal."

"I touched you without your consent," he states and you laugh.

"Listen, we were both in bed, we were both in between dreaming and waking up. There was some touching. We both liked it and then we woke up. All fine," you say.

Joel frowns. "We both what?"

"Liked it," you repeat.

"You were awake?"

"If you're asking if I was aware that you were touching me, yes."

"Why didn't you stop me?" He says.

"Would you have wanted me to? Or would you rather now know what it feels like?"

Joel's eyes glaze over and he lowers his head slightly. "Don't you fucking start."

"Don't tell me what to do, when you've just had your hand up my shirt."

"It was an accident. I was sleeping or dreaming or whatever you said."

"What was your dream about then?"

Joel groans.

"All good, no hard feelings," you say, as you step out of the bed. "Well, maybe harder for you."

Your eyes wander to his hips, where the wake up apparently hasn't happened yet.

Joel curses and turns around, grabbing some jeans from the dresser and pulling them on.

"You need to leave," Joel hisses, "right now!"

"You're not gonna make me breakfast first?"

Joel spins toward you, hands on his hips. "Get dressed, now."

You slide off the bed. "Yes, sir."

"Maybe I should be dreaming more often if it gets you to listen so nicely."

You grab your clothes. "If you need more material, you know where to find me."

He gives you another stern glance and then he's out of the door and practically running down the stairs. You take your time getting dressed, putting on the pyjama pants he gave you, leaving your ripped pants on his bedroom floor.

When you come down the stairs, the smell of coffee makes its way to you. You step into the kitchen, where Joel is leaning against the counter, the back of his head against the top cupboard, eyes closed.

"Hey," you say, careful not to startle him.

His eyes snap open and he takes you in.

"Ready?"

"Yeah," you say, holding his gaze.

It's a weird situation. You in his kitchen, early in the morning, still wearing his clothes. The smell of coffee and the beaming Texas sun already heating up the room. His hair is combed back like he's run his wet hands through it multiple times.

He pushes himself off the counter and grabs the car keys on the kitchen island. You follow him to the door and are about to say something bratty, when Joel opens the door and stops. You think he's just forgotten something, but realise your mistake, as you come to stand next to him.

On the front steps of Joel's porch are standing Casey, Tommy and two other guys you recognise from the bar. In unison, they all turn around and stare at you and Joel, standing there, in his doorway.

The station flies out of your field of vision as Daniel accelerates the car. You're seated behind a rookie called Sam that is just freshly out of the academy. Having been cooped up inside all day, you're happy to finally get some fresh air and see some actual police work. The sun is just gathering its last afternoon strength, hitting the windshield of the car.

"You excited to finally get out in the field?" Daniel asks, catching your glance in his rearview mirror.

You nod. "Sure am."

He grins and takes a right. "It's a routine check up. So nothing too crazy."

"What's the procedure when we get there?" Sam asks, all eager.

"We'll park a little out of range, so he's not spooked by a police car in front of his house and then we'll just go up to the front door and knock."

"Just knock? No back up or securing the premises?" Sam asks, his eyebrows now drawn.

"The plate we ran hopefully belongs to a guy that did some minor credit card fraud, nothing violent and no prior convictions or arrests. So he's probably just going to be a bit antsy when we get there."

Sam nods and glances out of his passenger window. Your phone buzzes with another text from Lucy. It's the fourth one today.

Lucy: Come on!

Lucy: Who would I even tell? The cattle?

Lucy: Tell me, tell me, tell me.

Lucy: If you won't, I'm just going to ask Joel next time I see him.

You sigh and type a quick response. At work now. Talk to you later. Since the dance, Lucy has been desperately trying to get you to tell her what in god's name had gotten into Joel that night. And why he almost got into a fight because of it. Just like Casey, who sided with Joel in the matter on how he handled the situation, Lucy has asked you to explain. But unlike Casey, who just nodded and said that he would definitely set Mark straight next time he saw him, when you said that Joel probably just wanted to protect the station's honour, Lucy did not buy that shit. But what are you possibly going to say? It's not as if you yourself knew why he flipped out like that. Obviously, he's got a control issue, but why does he have to show it in front of every fucking person you went to Highschool with?

"Almost there," Daniel says from the front and takes another turn, before pulling the car into a small parking lot in front of a strip mall with a deserted liquor store and a bagel shop that's closed.

You get out of the car and take a look around. It's a street with a couple of small run down houses to the side and nothing but fields encapsulating the strip mall.

"It's the third house on the left there around the corner. Should be a brown one with a porch," Daniel says and starts walking in the direction of the street corner.

Sam and you both follow, staying a little behind. Once you've reached the other side of the street, you all come to a halt. Daniel runs a hand over his head and sighs.

"Alright," he starts, "Sam and I are going to go up to the front door. You," he says pointing at you. "You'll stay safely on the sidewalk, ok?"

You nod. "Will do."

Daniel grins, cockily. "Well, that was easy. Let's g-

You hear the car before you can see it. The sound of the roaring engine fills the air and in a matter of two seconds, a truck almost drifts around the corner you all just came from. You don't even have to blink twice before noticing its distinct colour before it comes to a screeching halt right across the street from you three. In one swift motion, the chief opens the door, gets out and slams it shut so forcefully, the truck wobbles from the impact.

Sam whispers a quiet and stretched out fuck as he spots Joel stalking across the street without even checking for incoming vehicles.

You can hear Daniel gulp as he turns to face the chief, quickly setting his face back into a calm and collected exterior.

"Hey, Chief, what-

Joel doesn't even look at Daniel as he closes the distance between you in two last aggressive steps.

"Get in the truck, right now!" He shouts.

Daniel raises his hands in protest. "Hey now, she's with me today."

"She sure as hell is not, Riley!" Joel snaps, still glaring at you. "Get in, now."

While Sam has moved a couple steps away to a safer distance, Daniel steps up next to Joel.

You shake your head. "Daniel said I could tag along. It's just a routine check up."

"I didn't authorise that so no," Joel says, moving in on you. "And it's not routine. It's a confrontation with somebody suspected of fraud, who could potentially resist and be armed."

Daniel scoffs. "He faked a bunch of credit cards and used them to buy stuff online. He didn't build an organised crime lab."

"I ain't gonna ask you again," Joel says, his gaze still holding yours. His voice is nothing more than a growl at this point.

You move out of his way and position yourself between Daniel and Sam. Joel's eyebrows draw into a frown.

"I don't need your authorisation for a routine drive," Daniel says.

Joel's head slowly turns to Daniel. "You need it to take her with you."

Daniel shakes his head. "Actually, I don't. I asked the Sheriff and he said it would be fine."

"You asked your Daddy?" Joel raises his eyebrows. "Wow, Riley. That's peak leadership behaviour right there."

"She deserves to see some practice, Chief," Daniel counters.

Joel shakes his head in one swift motion. "I don't care what your Daddy says, Riley. She's not staying."

"Since I have higher jurisdictional authorisation, you don't get to decide that. We've got work to do," Daniel says.

"Let's go," Daniel says to you. "That's an order."

Joel's head snaps to him. "The only person she's taking orders from is me, Riley!"

"Fine," Daniel says and without further discussion turns around to start walking toward the street corner, making a turn.

Sam and you are quick to catch up and while he quickly follows Daniel around the corner, you are close behind him. You're about to turn, when Joel grabs your arm and pulls you back into him from behind, keeping you behind the hedge on the corner. Your back hits his chest and he holds your arm tightly pressed against your stomach. The impact is more uncomfortable than usual. His hand is warm and rough against your skin, leaving a tingling sensation in its wake.

"Take one more step and by God I will loose my shit," he says. His lips barely, but noticeably touching your ear.

"I think it's too late for that, Miller," you snap. "Let me go!"

You try to wriggle out of his embrace, but can't gather any leverage.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" He says.

"Trying to get you off of me!"

Joel tightens his grip and you squeal a little. "I am talking about your little road trip with these idiots here."

"I told you, Daniel asked me and said it was cool for me to come," you explain, using your other hand to try to push his away.

"Why do you keep listening to Riley and not me?" Joel says.

"You think everything I do is an act in defiance against you," you hiss. "This has nothing to do with you, Miller."

"Maybe it has if I'm the only one you're not listening to."

"Maybe you just give stupid orders."

Joel pulls on your hand and turns you around to face him, pushing you into the hedge. Tiny sharp branches pressing into your back.

"I told you to not to go out into the field for safety reasons," Joel says.

"And I did it anyway and now we're here," you say. "You gonna threaten to throw me over your shoulder again?"

His eyebrows lift and you can hear his breath hitch for a split second, before he lets go of you, taking a step back.

"Don't," he says, his eyes being warning enough.

"I will, if you stop showing up and acting like I'm some helpless girl in need of a guardian," you say and he scoffs.

"I'm just trying to keep you safe," Joel says.

"And have you satisfied that kink now or do you need another moment?"

Joel's jaw tenses. You can tell he's trying to hold back whatever you're provoking in him, as he clenches his fists next to his hips, knuckles turning white.

"For once, I just need you to do as I say," Joel says huskily, grabbing the car keys from his pocket to hand them to you. "Now be a good girl and get in the truck for me."

You narrow your eyes and cross your arms. "If you want me to call you Daddy, you just have to ask nicely, Mr. Miller."

Joel's gaze turns dark without another second to spare, as he lowers his head like a predator ready to pounce.

"Don't make me take you up on that offer, Darlin'," Joel murmurs, still holding out the key.

"Relax, I won't," you say and without another word make a run for the corner. Once you've almost reached the brown house, you slow down and take a look over your shoulder, to find Joel coming after you in quick determined steps.

Daniel and Sam are still standing in front of the house, looking at you now.

"All good, let's go," you say, before Joel can reach you and Daniel nods, moving toward the front door.

"Don't knock on that door, Riley!" Joel says, coming up behind you.

Daniel presses the doorbell, with Sam in position right behind him. Nothing happens for a solid 20 seconds and then Daniel knocks on the door.

"Police, open up!" He calls.

You take a step into the front yard, through the garden gate. Immediately Joel's hand is on your arm, pulling you behind him.

"Stay behind," he says. "You're not wearing a vest-

You see the shot or rather its impact, before you hear the loud noise. The window next to the door shatters and before you can realise what is happening, you hear two other shots. Daniel and Sam throw themselves on the ground as Joel's deafening shout resounds next to your ear, followed by a piercing ringing.

"Down!"

In the blink of an eye your feet are lifted up from the path and a second later you find yourself face down on the ground in front of the porch, pressed down by a heavy weight. Joel.

Your face is buried in the grass and you can't move any part of your body, as Joel has covered every inch of it with his. His arms are wrapped around you, his hands on your head.

"Stay down!" He orders in a voice you haven't heard before. It's so void of any of his usual demeanour that it's scary. Another round of shots hit the ground and the fence, as you hear Daniel shouting something from afar. You flinch from the sound. Joel lifts himself off of you slightly, to give you room to turn your head toward his face.

"Are you hurt?" He shouts, his eyes trying to scan your body for injuries without removing his cover, his hands moving to pat your sides. "Did you get shot? Are you okay?"

You try to say something, but the words are not making it out of your mouth. It's like you're paralysed, your brain short circuiting. Your eyes scan the space around you.

"Eyes on me, Baby," he says, "Are you okay?"

You manage to shake your head. Another shot, someone screams.

"Get under the porch," he says coldly and when he sees the panic in your eyes he eases his tone. "You're okay. They're not gonna hit you. Listen to me. I got you, Baby. They won't hit you, okay?"

You glance into his eyes and their stare softens slightly.

"You just get under the porch, when I say so, yeah?"

You nod.

"And you don't come out before I get you, we clear? You come out for no one else, okay?"

You nod again.

"Alright. On my signal."

Joel slides his body off of yours and motions for you to crawl under the porch. When he mumbles 'now' into your ear, you gather all your courage and quickly make your way over, pushing your body under the floor boards. Out of your hiding spot, you see Joel moving to a crouch, drawing the gun that's strapped to his hip and calling for Daniel, who responds something you can't understand. He makes his way toward the entrance and in a split second he raises his gun and fires off three shots. You hear something heavy drop the moment Joel staggers back from an impact on his chest.

"Clear," he shouts and you hear Daniel from the back of the house finally repeat the word.

Joel looks down his body, clutching his chest and swears. That's when you see the hole in his shirt, right below his heart.

"Joel!" You scream and he catches your glance, his expression somehow surprised right before he slowly sinks down on his knees.

Without hesitation, you pull yourself out from under the porch and try to get up, but your knees are buckling, so you can only stagger slowly toward him.

He now has turned to sit on the grass, breathing heavily.

"Did you get shot?" You shout, as you finally reach him. You lower yourself to your knees in front of him and grab his arm. "Are you okay? Fuck, Joel!"

He lifts his head and glares at you. "I told you to stay under the fucking porch until I came to get you!"

You frown. "Oh my god, you're bleeding."

The shirt is ripped on the side of his shoulder and there is blood trickling down his arm. You reach for the hand holding his chest, but he scoots back a little.

"And you still came out before," he says, every word a strangled breath.

"Christ, who gives a fuck?"

"I. Give. A. Fuck," Joel accentuates.

"What are you gonna do now, huh? Spank me?"

"Maybe I should, if it gets you to listen."

"Don't threaten me with a good time, Mr. Miller," you say, finally moving his hand to the side to reveal the gaping hole in his chest. Or rather his shirt. Because the only thing that you can see is a dark blue bulletproof vest with a single bullet stuck inside. He was wearing a vest. Thank the lord.

"Jesus," you say, sitting back on your feet, flinching as a sharp pain shoots through your right leg. You must have twisted it or something, when Joel practically jumped on you. "I thought you got shot."

"I did," Joel says.

"Where the fuck is this blood coming from?"

Joel turns slightly to his right. "Think they got me on my shoulder."

"We need to call an ambulance right now," you say, reaching for your phone.

He shakes his head. "Sam has already called it in."

"Can you get up?" You ask.

Joel doesn't reply, but just slowly leans to his side, lifting himself off the ground to his feet. You rise to meet him.

"Fucking hell," he hisses.

You see Daniel coming out of the house and Sam appearing from the backyard, both not meeting your gaze.

"The EMT will be here in five," Daniel says, sitting down on the porch steps. That's when you catch the sight of the two bodies laying on the ground behind him. You inhale sharply, making Joel turn around to follow your gaze. "Oh god."

"Don't turn around", he says, grabbing your hip to pull you to his chest. He winces slightly, but engulfs you into a tight hug, pushing your head to the side, facing him. "Keep your eyes on me."

Joel starts moving you out of the front yard onto the street. He makes you take the short walk down the street around the corner, you were just standing behind a couple of minutes ago.

Joel motions for you both to walk over to his truck. When you stand before it, he lets go and you turn to fully face him. He's standing there, one hand holding his shoulder, the other arm hanging limp next to his body. A breeze lifts up the strands of curly hair that have fallen into his forehead. The evening sun laying her last rays on his face. He makes a move to stand up straighter, but winces and keeps his upper body slightly bend.

"Did you shoot these two guys?" You ask him and he sighs.

"Yes," he says, holding your glance.

"Are they dead?"

"Yes," he says, a deep frown settling on his face.

You can't even help it and honestly you're a little confused why it took you such a long time, but all of a sudden you realise what just happened and a single tear starts building up to slide down your cheek, followed by many more. Your hand raises to cover your mouth as you start crying, your body shaking from the aftershock of adrenalin now pumping through your veins.

Joel's hand moves around you and pulls the back of your head towards his chest again. "It's okay," he whispers.

He lowers his chin on your head, letting his hand slide down your back in soothing strokes. "It's okay," he repeats as your sobs get heavier.

"You're okay. I got you, Babygirl. I got you," he whispers into your hair. Joel tightens his arm around you and settles his hand on the back of your neck. You wrap your arms around his back, pulling him in tighter, careful not to touch his bleeding arm.

"I'm so sorry," you manage to get out between sobs.

You feel him lift his head up from yours, looking down on you.

"What for?" He says.

You raise your head from his chest. "For all this."

"Oh Honey," he says, "this wasn't your fault. You're not the one in charge here."

"But I went along?"

"Sure you did," he says, his thumb slowly tracing the side of your neck. "But you weren't the one whose call was to decide whether this was a routine check up, were you?"

You shake your head slightly. "Daniel said the guy wouldn't be violent. Why did they have guns?"

"This is Texas, Baby," Joel says and lifts his hand to wipe a tear from your cheek. "Everyone owns a gun here."

The sound of the ambulance resounds in the distance and moments later two EMT trucks pull up to the scene. One drives by and the other comes to a halt right next to the two of you. A man and a woman, jump out and grab a huge red backpack from the car. The woman starts running around the car in the direction of the house and the man makes his way to you.

"Chief!" He shouts and drops the backpack a couple feet away from you. Joel turns around to face him.

"I'm fine," Joel says.

You suddenly realise that you are still completely engulfed in his arms, bodies flush against each other. You make a motion to move back a little, but Joel's arm presses to your back, keeping you even tighter against him.

"Respectfully, sir, you're bleeding," the paramedic replies, craning his neck to look around Joel. "What about her?"

"Also fine."

"Yeah, she looks totally fine from here, Chief," he says and takes a step toward you.

"I will remind you that I still have bullets left, Tyler," Joel declares in a cold tone, "you come near her and I might put them to good use."

Tyler raises his hands. "I'm just checking if she needs any medical attention, sir."

"I already did," Joel says, "And she sure as hell does not need someone strange man near her right now. So back the fuck up, kid."

"It's protocol, Chief," he insists.

Joel groans. "Do I look like I give a shit about your paperwork right now?"

"No, sir."

"Then go and help Tanya out with the other guys."

"You should go to the hospital, Chief," Tyler says, "you're not safe to drive with that wound on your arm."

"Yeah, yeah," Joel says, "I'll go later."

"Can she take you?" Tyler says, looking at you. "Can you take him to the hospital, ma'am? Are you okay to drive?"

"Yes," you say.

"Okay, if he stops being 'fine', you take him to the E.R. immediately, okay?"

"I will," you say.

"Call an ambulance, if he shows any signs of fever or symptoms related to an infection."

You nod and Tyler shakes his head. "You're getting on my last nerve, Chief."

"Always a pleasure, Tyler," Joel says and the paramedic grabs his backpack, hops back into his truck and drives off.

You both stand in silence for another moment.

"Are you okay?" Joel says softly.

You nod your head. "Yeah, I'm okay, thanks. Should I take you home?"

Joel sighs. "I think that would be good, yes."

He hands you the keys to his truck and you both get into the car. Once you sit down, you see the cut on your upper thigh. Your pants are ripped open slightly. You must have gotten it when pushed down. You don't say anything to alert Joel, who is already leaning his head against the window, eyes closed. Already having memorised the way, half an hour later you pull into his driveway, killing the engine and stepping out of the car.

The sun has already sunk behind the horizon and the sky has turned into lovely shades of violet and blue. You unlock the front door and make space for Joel to step inside. He walks past you into the kitchen and you follow.

It's still dark in the house, so you carefully make your way around the island, but overlook the last barstool on the corner and walk right into it, injured leg first.

"Fuck," you swear and hold onto your thigh.

The light turns on and Joel's head immediately snaps back to yours.

"What happened?"

You just groan and wave it off. "All good."

"What the fuck is that on your leg?" Joel says, angrily and moves over to you. "You said you weren't hurt!"

"It's nothing, it's just a cut. I think I might have slid over a rock or branch or something."

Joel sighs heavily and immediately walks into the bathroom. You can hear cabinets being opened and things falling on the floor. He comes out again with two boxes looking like first aid kits.

"What do you think you're doing?" You say and follow him into the living room.

Joel puts the boxes down on the coffee table. "Cleaning and dressing."

You shake your head. "No, it's just a little scratch."

"Ain't look like that to me, Darlin'," he says and motions to the couch. "Sit down."

A wave of fatigue hits you and you're too tired to resist, so you take a seat in the middle of the sofa. Joel pushes the coffee table to the side and gets on his knees in front of you. He leans over to turn on the lamp on the side, illuminating just the couch and you, sat there. You can now see and feel that the cut must be longer than the actual rip in your pants.

"Shouldn't you be the one sitting here? Since you actually got shot?"

Joel shakes his head. "It's not that bad."

"Fine," you say, "you do me and I'll do you after."

Joel's eyes snap up to yours and you can tell from the way he's looking at you, kneeling, that he's exactly thinking what you're thinking.

"With the cleaning and dressing and such, of course," you explain.

"Of course," Joel agrees and opens the first aid kit, taking out some disinfectant and bandages. He suddenly stops and looks down at your thigh, clearing his throat.

"I-," he starts, visibly getting uncomfortable. "I need to open it up more to see the whole cut."

"Oh, sure, okay," you breathe.

Joel nods and gets the scissors from the kit. He starts cutting your pants open slowly, careful not to let the cold metal graze your skin. First he cuts toward your knee and once he's reached the end of the cut, he starts on the other side. This time he goes even slower, every snap of the scissors echoing in the otherwise dead silent room. Joel's eyes are locked onto his hands. Once he's reached the upper end of the cut, he halts for a second and then continues to cut open your pants until he has reached the point where your legs meet your hips.

"I think that's it," you say.

Joel releases a pressed breath. "Yeah."

He places the scissors back into the box and opens up the hole in your jeans or what's left of them to reveal your bare thigh. You inhale sharply and Joel's eyebrows draw together quickly as he sees the goosebumps appear on your thigh.

His hands quickly reach for the disinfectant and puts some on a wound dressing. "This might hurt a bit."

Once he dabs it on your cut, a sharp sting runs through your leg. You flinch and grab Joel's arm.

"Fuck," you hiss.

"Sorry," Joel says and continues to clean the cut, once you've removed your hand.

In a couple of moments he has put dressing on your leg and wrapped it carefully with some bandage. His fingers slowly and steadily moving across your skin.

"All done," he says and gets up from the floor. You follow him and motion to the sofa.

"Your turn," you say.

He shakes his head. "I got it."

"Let me help you, Miller."

"I can do it!" He snaps and you keep pointing at the couch.

"I didn't say you couldn't," you reply soothingly, "just let me help you out okay?"

Joel groans and sits down on the sofa, leaning back into the couch, sighing heavily. Your eyes follow his movement, scanning him there seated in front of you.

"I need you to take off your shirt," you say and Joel runs a hand over his face.

"I really can do it myself, it just grazed me."

"Take it off, Miller," you instruct and he sighs, starting to unbutton his shirt. He moves back from the back of the couch to shrug off the shirt and winces when he has to move his hurt shoulder. Once it's off, he rips open the velcro on the bulletproof vest and also pulls it off. Now he is just sitting there in a dark blue t-shirt. Before you can tell him to, he grabs the hem of the shirt and with his good hand, he pulls it over his head, groaning. Joel throws the shirt on the ground and breathes heavily.

"Happy now?" He says, mockingly.

You nod.

He closes his eyes and leans back, giving you a full view of his bare torso. It's slightly glistening from the sweat that must have gathered under the layers and you can't help but swallow some saliva that has suddenly pooled in your mouth.

You grab the disinfectant, the dressing and lower one knee on to the couch next to him.

"I can't reach your shoulder, if you're leaning back," you say and Joel opens his eyes.

"Oh, sorry," he says and moves his torso forward.

You start applying the disinfectant and Joel doesn't even flinch, but keeps moving his body further away from you.

"You done soon?" He asks.

"Not if you keep moving away from me. I can't reach the back of your shoulder like this."

Joel sighs and rolls his eyes.

"And it's hard kneeling on my leg," you say.

Joel frowns. "Just sit down."

"I can't fully see it in the lighting with you leaning back if I sit down next to you."

"Just sit down," Joel says huskily and grabs the back of your bent leg, pulling you onto his lap and moving his body forward, his naked chest almost touching yours. You freeze.

"Better?" He says and you don't reply, just continue to dap the patch on the wound and then start putting on a bandage.

You've obviously been close to him before. But this feels different. More intimate somehow. The feel of his hips below yours is not something you wanted to know like that. You knew exactly how hard it would be to forget it. Almost impossible.

You keep shifting your set to adjust the bandage, when Joel releases a pressed breath.

"Please say you're done," he says, "and stop moving around so much."

"You were the one who pulled me on your lap, remember?"

"A decision I'm starting to regret," he says.

"Sorry if it's too heavy I-

"Are you done?" Joel interrupts.

You nod. "Yes."

Joel sighs and pushes himself forward, wrapping one arm around your back and in one swift motion rises to a stand, with your legs wrapped around him.

"You think again before finishing that sentence, Darlin'."

He releases you and puts you down on the ground, your body sliding slowly down his'.

Joel's eyes trail down your face to your chest and back up.

"Thank you," he says and steps back to sit down on the couch again.

He runs a hand over his eyes and exhales.

"You good?" You ask.

He shrugs. "Yeah, just thinking 'bout all the paper work I have to deal with now. The Sheriff and the fucking mayor are going to have a field day with this."

"I truly am sorry about that," you say.

"It wasn't your fault," he says.

You shake your head. "No, not that. I'm sorry for not listening to what you said. I should have asked you first."

Joel's eyes widen. "Excuse me?"

You roll your eyes. "Don't make a big deal out of it."

"Too late for that now, Darlin'," he says and tries to moves his hurt shoulder, but clenches his jaw and closing his eyes in pain.

"Maybe you should try to relax a little."

"Not my style, Sweetheart."

"You just got shot, Joel," you say, sternly.

He opens his eyes and glances up toward you, an almost unnoticeable lift of the corner of his mouth.

"What?" You ask.

"And here I thought I would have to get into another life threatening situation to hear you say my name again."

You take a step toward him and slightly tap your foot against his boot. "I told you, if you want me to do something, you just have to ask nicely."

Joels eyes drag themselves over your body, his hips shifting on the couch. The silence is deafening as he just sits there, looking at you standing before him. You don't know what's going to happen. You just know that you desperately want it to.

"I should take you home," Joel mumbles, but doesn't make a move.

You nod. "You probably should, yeah."

"Do you wanna go home?" He asks, his eyes fixated on your lips.

You shake your head. "Not really, no."

Joel groans softly. "What do you want then?"

"I want you to relax," you say.

"It's not that easy, Darlin'."

"Then let me help you out with that," you say, moving in between his knees.

Joel's lips part slightly. "Come on now, Baby," he whispers. "You know I can't let you do that."

"Why?" You say and slowly get on your your knees once again. Joel shakes his head, pushing his hips back into the couch.

"I need you to get up, Darlin'," he drawls.

"Why?" You repeat.

"You know your brother is going to kill me first and then you if I do."

"Since when are you such a good boy, huh?"

"Since he talked to me after the dance," Joel says, eyes now fully focused on your body, as if waiting for an attack.

"And what did he say?"

"He asked if I had done something he would make me regret."

"And what did you tell him?"

"The truth."

"And that is?"

"That I had not," he says.

You put your elbows on his knees, interlacing your fingers and resting your chin on them. Gazing up at Joel, he frowns.

"What?"

"I'm waiting," you say.

"For what?"

"For the 'yet'," you say.

Joel huffs out a breath, the specks in his eyes flickering in the light of the lamp. He runs his hand through his hair one more time, pulling back his dark curls. His bare chest moving with every strained breath.

"Maybe we should talk first," Joel says. "About what happened at the dance hall."

"Really?"

"Really."

"It's not that complicated. You tried to play the hero, I got annoyed with you for handling my business for me and then I said some words that I didn't really mean. I'm sorry 'bout that. Good?"

Joel grins. "So you don't think I'm just waiting for my turn, huh?"

"Why don't we find out?"

"Can't touch you, Darlin'," he states matter of factly.

"You just did a couple of seconds ago," you correct him.

Joel lowers his head slightly. "Not like that."

You lift your head from your hands and let your hand fall onto his thigh. You can feel the muscle twitch almost immediately as you move your hand higher.

"What if I do?" You say.

"Sounds exactly like the kinda thing you shouldn't be doing now, does it?" Joel says, grabbing your hand. "Are you trying to get me killed?"

"I'm trying to help you loosen up a little, Mr. Miller," you reply.

Joel chuckles. "Whatever you think you're doing, it ain't loosening up anything."

You move up your other hand, but Joel's glare makes you stop.

"I need you to stop that," he says calmly.

"Just tell me if you don't want to," you say, leaning back a little. "I can take it."

"I'm sure you can, Darlin'," he drawls and you narrow your eyes.

"Said I can't," Joel sighs, "not that I don't want to."

Your tongue traces over your lower lip and Joel‘s eyes glaze over.

"Good," you whisper.

"Good," Joel agrees, his hooded eyes still watching you, but less alert now, more relaxed. You let your eyes wander over his upper body, taking in the sight of his broad chest, rising and falling before you.

You're sitting on your old desk in your room and looking at your phone. The space bar is blinking, expectantly waiting for you to decide what you want to say. Or more, what you want at all, maybe. It's been a week since you saw him and a week since you got that text sitting in Tommy's car. You've spent days just staring at it, pondering what to say. You thought maybe you would see him at work, thought he might drop by, drop in and say something. Something more. Something to hold onto, to bounce off of. But when you came home from a day spent at your friend Lucy's on Sunday, the Mercedes was back in the garage. No note, no text, no call. Nothing. And when you arrived at work on Monday, he was nowhere to be found. On Tuesday, he called in to say that he was going to some town business thing and on Wednesday, Daniel said that the chief told him he wouldn't be coming in for the rest of the week due to some cross-country case he had to work on. So you just sat there, staring at his office or at the entrance door, patiently waiting for it to open.

Maybe he chickened out? Maybe he decided that he made a mistake? That the day and the evening had gotten away from him and he had lost his grip on the reigns. Maybe he was waiting for you to text him back. Lots of maybes for a Friday night. You ponder as you turn your chair to the window, looking out in your parents' backyard. And what were you even gonna say? You wanna come over? Let's get into trouble? Where are you? Are you coming in today?

Definitely not. This is all just stupid. If he had wanted to see you, he would have just said hello when he brought over the Mercedes. He would have just texted to tell you he was coming. But he didn't. So might as well forget all about that little slip up and get on with your life. Stop thinking about some controlling and annoyingly handsome man, who is probably not only too old but also too damn opinionated for you.

You make up your mind to just leave it for now, when Casey calls from downstairs to get going. You haven't been to a dance in ages and can't wait to see a couple of your old friends and dance the night away.

When you and Casey enter the barn, the band is playing Jim Croce's Rapid Roy and even though you both are a little early, the dance floor is packed with people all ages, dancing, singing and drinking. String lights cover the ceiling, glazing the hall with a soft glow. Casey walks off to see his friends at the bar and you take it in for all of two seconds before Lucy slaps you on the back and hugs you from behind.

"You came!" She cries and lets go to see your face.

You laugh and nod. "Wouldn't miss it for the world."

"Liar," she says and grabs your hand. "Let's get you something to drink."

Lucy has been your friend since elementary school and while you went off to a college as far away from home as possible, she stayed close and took over her parent's cattle ranch with her older sister. Before you decided to spend the summer here, you hadn't seen each other in almost a year, but the moment you stepped off that plane, Lucy was waiting next to your parents to pick you up.

"I already have like three guys I want you to meet," she says, while motioning for the bartender for two beers.

You roll your eyes. "I told you, I'm not dating at the moment."

"You need to get yourself a southern man, babe," she says, "these city boys aren't for you."

"You just want me to stay here and settle down," you say.

"Maybe my intentions aren't entirely unselfish," she shrugs. "I'd love to see you more than for just a couple of weeks in the summer and on Christmas."

You gently touch her shoulder. "I know, I know."

"But let's not dwell on details. We've got work to do."

You laugh and Lucy hands you a beer, while pulling you toward the dance floor. Lucy takes off her denim jacket and throws it on a nearby chair.

"Let's see if you've got any country left in ya, honey," she says and pulls you into the crowd.

The band starts playing some Keith Urban song and you both dance until you've almost finished your beer and Lucy seems to be out of breath. She grabs your hand and pulls you toward her.

"Did you do something to make Joel angry?"

You shoot her a confused look. "What? Who told you that?"

Lucy grins. "He's looking kinda like he wants to take you out and not to dinner."

You turn your head and let your eyes roam around the hall. Every time. Every time you lay your eyes on him it is as if something goes off inside your chest. It's as if the grip you have on your composure seems to slip fast every time you dare to let your glance wander and find its way to his.

"What did you do?" Lucy asks, following your glance.

"I don't know," you say and it's the truth. What did you do?

Joel is leaning against the bar, next to Tommy, who seems to be in the middle of a heated conversation with some guy you recognise from the poker game a couple of weeks ago. His fingers are wrapped around a glass of probably whiskey, neat. As always he is wearing a flannel, but he seems to have cut his hear that is neatly slicked to the back, forming tight curls at the ends. His exterior looks quite calm. His eyes are what makes you catch your breath. They're glued to you. A man starved. It's as if he's not even blinking, just his stare on you. His jaw tenses, when you let your eyes meet and he quickly downs the rest of his drink in a swift motion.

Lucy chuckles. "Looks like you're in trouble."

It's not as if you couldn't tell Lucy about the chief. But what even is there to tell? How can you tell someone about something that you haven't even made your own mind up about?

Before you can say anything else, he's moving. Joel pushes himself off the bar counter and seems to be walking toward you two.

"Uh oh," Lucy mumbles and runs her hands through her jet black bob.

Joel stops at a reasonable distance in front of you two.

After a while, Lucy is the first to speak. "Hi Joel, how's it going?"

He glances over to Lucy and nods. "Good, how are you, Lucy?"

"I'm doing well," she says and smiles. "We were dancing just now."

"Yeah," he says and his glance jumps back to yours. "I saw."

Lucy's eyes wander from Joel to you and back and then she raises a hand in a waving motion. "I think I'll get us another round."

You nod, but keep your eyes on the man in front of you. His arms hang by his sides, but his hands are clenched into fists.

"Anything specific you want?" You say, trying to talk over the music.

He narrows his eyes. "What are you wearing?"

You look down at your summer dress. "It's what people call a dress, Miller."

"It's short," he says and his eyes focus on the hemline, dangling in the middle of your upper thigh.

"It's pretty," you snap.

"That's not what I was trying to say," he says.

You cross your arms. "What are you trying to say, Chief?"

Joel sighs and scratches his beard.

"Listen folks, if you ain't dancing, you need to get out of the way," a woman leans over and says to you two.

"Oh hi, Joel," she says and gives him a little pat on the arm. "Go dance."

Joel shakes his head, but she grabs hold of his arm and pulls it toward you, until it is placed on your lower back. The feel of his hand on the back of your dress runs like jolt through your body. It feels intense. Exposed, so out in the open with everyone to see. You turn your head, but nobody even glances at you.

Joel grunts and then takes your hand, pulling you into a dancing position toward him. His leg steps between yours and your hips are tauntingly close. His calloused hand feels warm and strong around yours.

"What are you doing?" You hiss.

"Dancing," he says and begins to lead you into a sway, in a rhythm with the music.

Just seconds later the band plays the opening of a slow country song, you've heard on the radio a couple of times. The guitar is playing smooth and bluesy notes, sounding exactly like the sound you hear in your ear whenever he looks down at you.

His hand is stretched out on your back, his fingertips just barely leaving any space before touching your ass. It's as if each of his finger is burning a mark into your skin. And without even trying, with every step, your body seems to be moving into his. Like two currents ripping into each other, morphing into one.

"Where were you this week?" You finally say, trying to ignore the familiar smell of his body making its way up your nose.

"Was workin'," he says.

"I didn't see you at the station," you say.

He looks down at you, his fingers pressing into your back. "I needed some time to think."

"About what?"

"Things," he says.

You sigh. "Sounds tough."

He frowns, but keeps quiet. After a while, he clears his throat.

"I wasn't trying to say that your dress isn't nice," he says.

"But you don't like it?"

"No, I- I mean, it just," he shakes his head curtly. "It just lifts up when you dance."

"And?" You ask.

"It looks like it could easily rip or something," he says and you frown.

"Why does not matter?"

"It just doesn't seem durable," Joel says.

"And for what reason would my dress need to be durable?" You ask. "I ain't gonna wear it to go riding outside."

Joel's eyes snap down to yours. He inhales sharply.

You stare at him blankly until you realise what you've just said and you can't help but chuckle.

"Depends on the kind of ride, I guess," you say, "might actually be quite fitting-"

"Watch it," Joel grunts.

"What?" You say, lifting your chin. "You're the one talking about how easily it lifts up."

"Not like that," he says and you chuckle.

"Like what then?"

"Just 'cause you were dancing," he says, "I was just making sure you knew."

"Making sure I know how it looks when I dance or how easily you could lift it up?"

Joel's jaw clenches slightly. "I wasn't saying that."

"Saying what?"

Joel exhales a pressed breath. "That I could lift up your dress or anything."

"But you thought about it," you say.

He turns his head slightly, so his bearded chin grazes the side of your head. His fingers curl a little, grabbing the fabric of your dress, scrunching it up between them.

"You think I don't know how easily it rides up?" You whisper and feel his grip tightening on your back.

"I really am trying to be good here, Darlin'," he says huskily into your hear, dropping his head.

"Like you were trying to be last Saturday?" You ask.

"Didn't seem like you cared about last Saturday."

You frown. "I wasn't the one hiding all week."

"I wasn't hiding," he snaps.

"But you didn't want to talk," you say.

"You were the one who didn't reply to my text or open the damn door on Sunday, not me," Joel growls.

"What?" You say, confused.

"When I brought back the Mercedes," Joel says. "You didn't open the door."

"I wasn't there," you say, feeling your hand soften in his. "I was out on the ranch with Lucy."

His brows furrow.

"Why didn't you tell me you were coming over?"

"Wasn't sure you wanted me to," Joel mumbles.

The band changes into a Chris Stapleton song and all of a sudden the dance floor clears a little, leaving you and Joel almost by yourselves. You take a look around, but Joel continues to stare down at you, expectantly. His eyes warm and inviting.

"You too proud to ask?"

"Just trying to do the right thing," he says.

"And what might that be Mr. Miller?" You ask.

"Not getting into trouble," he says.

"For someone so concerned with doing the right thing, you sure often come pretty close to trouble yourself," you say.

"Didn't say it was working, Darlin'", he says.

"Hey, mind if I cut in?" A voice resounds from behind you. "You've kept her for quite a while, man."

You turn your head and find yourself looking at Daniel's friend from the auction. What was his name again? Mark?

Joel doesn't make a move, just keeps staring at him. Mark grins and stretches out his hand.

"Remember me?" he says, "from the auction?"

You nod, but when you try to turn around, Joel's grip tightens on your body, pressing you into him against his hard chest. You glance at him and shake your head slightly.

"I'll talk to you later," you whisper and Joel furrows his brows and takes a second too long before he reluctantly lets go of your hand, slowly stepping away. He turns his back and walks over toward the bar.

Mark smiles exaggeratedly and pulls you toward him into a two step. He is a good dancer but seems a little over eager for your taste.

"You got a boyfriend?" He shouts over the music into your ear and he is close enough for you to smell the alcohol on his breath.

You shake your head. "No."

He grins. "You want one?"

You keep shaking your head. "I'm good, but thanks for the offer."

Mark spins you around and then pushes you tight up against him. "Maybe you need to get a taste first, huh?"

You try to lean back a little, to put some space between you both, but he keeps his grip on you a little stronger than you like.

"Again, I think I'm good," you say and hope the song is about to end.

"Come on," he says, "let me show you how good I am."

He pulls you in even tighter and you raise your hands to press against his chest.

"That's enough, Mark," you say and try to push him away from you. But he doesn't budge and laughs.

"I like 'em a little feisty," he says and puts both his hands on your back, sliding them down.

"Hey, stop it," you say, trying to wriggle out of his grip.

"Come on, baby," he says and grabs your ass with both hands.

"Fuck off!" You yell and before you can continue to push him away, Mark is pulled back from you with a jolt and thrown across the floor.

You stumble back a little, confused. Everyone has turned to you. The music has stopped abruptly.

"Get the fuck out of here!" Joel shouts and points at Mark, sprawled out on the floor.

Joel stands before you, heavily breathing.

"Are you okay?" He asks, softly.

"What the fuck are you doing?" You hiss, looking around you. Everyone is staring at you three. Someone is coming to help Mark up from the floor.

"I was trying to help," Joel whispers and steps toward you.

"Well, don't," you say and Joel frowns, making a move to grab your arm, but you pull it away quickly.

"Come on," he says.

You step away and without saying another word, turn to walk out the hall quickly. Knowing that everyone's stare is following you. What the fuck was he thinking, making a scene like that? With everyone around to see? You make your way out of the barn as fast as you can without running. As the cool summer breeze engulfs you, you exhale heavily and walk straight into Tommy and Casey.

„Hey!“ They both say and immediately look worried.

„What’s wrong?“ Casey says and grabs your shoulder. „Are you okay?“

You nod your head. „Yeah, I just need some air.“

Tommy frowns. „You sure?“

„Yes, very sure.“

„I thought I heard some commotion, what the fuck was that?“

„Just some boys being stupid,“ you say and make your way around them.

„Okay,“ Casey says, still frowning. „We‘ll be back inside when you need me. Don’t stray too far, yeah?“

You nod, forcing a smile and then head for the road. You walk for a couple of minutes down the sidewalk, collecting your thoughts. Without even having to turn around, you immediately know whose heavy footsteps suddenly resound from behind you. He calls out your name, but you keep walking.

"Stop!" Joel shouts and you do so in your tracks.

You turn around and he stops before you.

"What the fuck is going on?" He snaps.

"That's what I could ask you!"

"I was trying to help you," he says angrily.

"For fuck's sake!" You shout, "I don't need your help, Miller."

"He was harassing you!"

"And that makes you entitled to try to drag me out of there like some child?"

"I was just-," he starts.

"I don't need you to help me and I don't need you to be my saviour," you say, "I am an adult. It is my fucking decision how I handle it."

"It didn't look like you were handling it," he says.

You frown, putting your hands on your hips. "What did it look like then, huh?"

"He was grabbing your ass, for god's sake!" Joel shouts.

You laugh, mockingly. "So that's what this is about? Didn't mind it when you were the one grabbing, did you now?"

Joel's gaze turns cold. "I didn't grab your ass."

"And now you're regretting being a gentleman or what? You want your turn, Chief?"

"Watch your tone," he growls.

"You know what, Miller," you say, "maybe you should start watching yours."

He shakes his head, running his hand through his hair. A stray lock bouncing back into his eyes.

"You think because I let you have a little fun you have some kind of claim on me?" You hiss, "Like I'm your property?"

Joel scoffs. "A little fun? Are you being serious right now?"

"Are you?"

"You're being a fucking brat."

"And you're being a fucking asshole!" You snap back.

"How does me trying to help you not get harassed by that guy make me the fucking asshole, huh?" Joel shouts and takes a step toward you.

"You made a fucking scene in front of everyone! I'm never going to hear the end of it in this fucking town," you reply, "as if I can't handle a man being a fucking dick by myself. Do you think I haven't done that before? It's not your fucking place to play the hero."

"So you can call me when you're stranded and I can come get you, but I'm not allowed to when someone's watching?"

"I don't need you to protect me, Miller," you say, sternly. "I am not your fucking girlfriend."

Joel veers back as if you had hit him across the face. His face goes blank and his shoulders drop slightly. As if accepting something he hadn't wanted to before, he nods slowly.

"Right," he says and then stays silent.

He watches you for another moment and then clears his throat.

"You're not," he says calmly, his voice lacking any emotion. "It won't happen again."

His gaze drops to the floor and then back to yours. The exterior of stone making a reappearance.

Joel nods again and then wordlessly turns around, his dark figure a contrast to the street lights. With every step he continues to walk away from you, with every bit of space he puts between you two, the feeling of anger and embarrassment that was boiling and dripping over, slowly morphs into something much more ugly. Something much worse. When he turns the corner and is swallowed by the darkness, you realise it feels a little less like rage and much more like regret.

There is something so exhilarating about doing something you definitely should not be doing. It's this feeling as if pop rocks are going off inside your chest. It is exactly what you feel when the garage door slowly opens to reveal Casey's shiny metallic blue vintage Mercedes convertible. She's a beauty. He's been working on it for months and has dropped the idea to take her for a spin when he gets the chance last week. If he didn't want anyone to drive it, he maybe shouldn't have parked it in your parents' garage. And since you know where he keeps the key you are just doing him a favour. It is a public service basically. You need a long drive through nowhere and his baby needs a chance to blow off some steam. A win win situation.

You slip into the driver's seat and turn the key. The car starts immediately. God bless. And also bless Casey for being as much of a music freak as you are and putting in a bluetooth connector so you can connect your phone to the radio. You press play on your playlist and pull out of the garage. In ten minutes you're on a country road heading out of town. You drive until you can't see houses anymore, just fields and the occasional farm on the distant horizon. The Texas sun is beating down on the concrete, heat simmering in the air. The windows are down and the breeze is lifting up your hair, cooling the back of your neck. You take a sip of your Diet Coke when the opening notes of "Guilty As Sin" start playing and you lean back, loudly singing along.

There is a flash of something in your head. More like someone. The sensation of feeling skin on your skin, having his body pressed against yours. You shake your head. No, no, no. This is exactly the reason why you took this damn drive - to take your mind off of ...things. The image of his figure hovering above you, his curls falling into his forehead, his eyebrows drawn, has been haunting you for days. The way his lips parted, when you slowly opened your legs is imprinted on your fucking brain. How on earth are you ever going to get rid of that image? It definitely is not good that you're fantasising about your boss and even worse that it's Joel freaking Miller. Obviously that can never happen for so many reasons but mostly because your brother is actually gonna kill him first and then you, without missing a beat. Maybe also Tommy, if he is really on a roll.

Right as Taylor Swift is singing about writing things on inner thighs, something goes wrong. For whatever reason, the gas pedal does not seem to be responding. You put your foot on it a couple of times but nothing is happening, the car is not accelerating. Stunned, you try to put your foot down, but nothing seems to happen. You're really starting to freak out, when you realise that the break also seems to be fucked. At least there is nobody anywhere on this goddamn road you could have hit, so you just slowly let the car come to a stop in the middle of nowhere. You exhale heavily. The tank is full, so at least you weren't a complete idiot. Maybe Casey did not finish fixing it up like he said he did?

"Fucking hell," you groan and slap the steering wheel. Just your luck.

What the fuck are you supposed to do? You obviously can't call your brother or your parents because not only will you get the lecture of a lifetime, but they'll also freak out that you're stranded in the middle of a country road with nothing to keep you company but an almost warm can of coke and some pretzels you brought in case of an emergency. Apparently, what you thought might be an emergency is vastly different to what is actually possible. You could call triple-A but on a Saturday at this time of day they'll probably be here by nightfall. How the fuck are you going to get out of here? Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all.

You open the car door and step out, feeling the heat of the day immediately engulf you. You definitely should have brought water. Christ. What were you thinking being all free and a little reckless, huh? Walking a couple of steps down the street you think maybe you could just wait for someone to pass by and help a girl out. That's when it dawns on you that Casey is not the only one you know who knows his way around a vintage car. You hurry back to the car and grab your phone, tapping Tommy's number and calling him.

He doesn't answer. Why should he? He is probably busy on a Saturday afternoon. You try again though nothing but the soothing sound of the dial tone is whispering in your ear. When you press his contact one more time, he finally picks up.

"Hello?"

"Oh my God, Tommy, hi," you say, relieved. "I am so sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if by any chance you're free right now? I kinda did something stupid and I need your help."

"Huh?" He says, sounding like he's outside or somewhere loud.

"I borrowed Casey's Mercedes and took a drive up west and now the car is not working and I'm sort of stranded on this road and I can-"

"Who is this?" he says and you frown, saying your name.

"Casey's sister?" You say, hesitantly.

There is just silence at the end of the other line for a moment and then you hear a commotion, sounding like someone getting up.

"Where are you?" You're trying to put the phone closer to your ear, to hear him better.

"I kinda have no idea to be honest, but I can send you my location maybe? I think I passed that one dairy farm with the red sign on my way," you say quickly. "I'm so sorry Tommy, I really appreciate your help."

A sigh resounds from the other end. "This ain't Tommy."

Your eyes widen. "What?"

You take a look at the screen and see Tommy Miller's name and number on the display. Confused, you put the phone back to your ear.

"I'm sorry, who is this?"

"This is Joel Miller," he says and after a second or two he adds, "The Chief."

Fuck.

"I know who you are, Miller," you say, hearing him moving on the other end. "What are you doing on Tommy's phone?"

„He left it on the table,“ he replies.

You run a hand through your hair and frown. „And you just answer?"

"You called three times," he says.

"Have you ever heard of a right to privacy?"

There is a groan on the other end. „You want me to come get you or keep lecturing me about shit?“

You hear a car door slam.

„Okay,“ you say. "Why did you ask who I was?"

"Apparently Tommy has named you Little C in his phone," Joel says. "How am I supposed to know that's you."

"Fine," you say, „I can send you my lo-

„I‘ll find you,“ he says and the call ends with a click.

„Alright, Chief,“ you mumble and put the phone back in your pocket.

About a long boring hour spent kicking rocks on the side of the road later, you can see a car emerging on the horizon, speeding toward you. The heat makes it flicker in the distance and you squint your eyes to sharpen the picture. The familiar outlines of a his truck take final form and before you know it he slides the car on the gravel and brings it to a sudden stop in front of you.

Joel jumps out of the car and stalks toward you. He’s wearing worn out jeans, boots and a familiar flannel over a crips white tshirt.

"What were you thinking?" He shouts, stepping up in front of you.

"Hello to you too," you reply.

"Why did you take the car?"

"I was just trying to go for a drive," you say.

"Maybe you should've taken a car that actually works and not this thing," he snaps harshly.

He comes to a halt in front of you, breathing heavily. His hair is toussled as if he had just spent the last hour running his hands through it vigorously. His dark eyes shift slowly from yours down to your torso and further toward your feet. Once he has clocked the size of your shorts and the quite long stretch of bare legs, his eyes widen for a second.

"Casey said that he was going to take it out soon," you explain.

Joel snaps his eyes back to yours. "Your brother has been saying that since last summer."

"Maybe he should have told me that," you say.

"Maybe you should have asked him before taking his car," Joel says sternly. "Do you even know where you are?"

You shrug. "I can just check on my phone."

"And what happens if your phone shuts off?"

"I'll just walk somewhere," you say, crossing your arms.

"There isn't a ranch for thirty minutes each way," he says. "Drive, not walk."

"Well," you say, "I've always been fond of walking."

"It's almost a 100 and you probably don't have any water with your, do you?" Joel says.

"I have a Diet Coke," you say.

"Christ, this is how people die!" He shouts.

"Okay, I feel like you're blowing this way out of proportion," you say.

"Did you even tell anyone that you were going out?"

You shake your head. "It's not that serious."

"Someone could have driven by and just decided to kidnap or assault you and no one would even know!"

"Jesus, Miller," you say, "I'm not some damsel in distress, who can't protect herself."

"I've seen some fucked up shit in my time, honey. You don't stand a chance against these psycho."

"Okay," you defensively raise your hands. "I need you to snap out of your paranoid chief/papa bear mentality and just take me home, okay?"

Joel frowns. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"You can be a bit overprotective sometimes, has anyone ever told you that?"

"I am the chief of police, it is my jo-"

"It's your job, I know, I know," you finish his sentence.

Joel just stares at you blank. "You actually think that I'm some file pushing desk guarding idiot, don't you?"

Now it's his time to cross his arms and you take a step backward.

"I'm just saying that maybe you've spent a lot of time in a job that alters your impression of certain probabilities."

Joel nods, "You sure as hell have made up your mind."

You sigh. "Can you just take me home now, please?"

He shakes his head. "Can't."

"What?" You say. "Why?"

Joel takes his phone out of his back pocket and checks it. "We need to wait for Earl."

"Who the fuck is Earl?" You say and lean back against the trunk of the Mercedes.

"He's the guy that's gonna tow your brother's car and bring it over to my house."

"Why would he bring it to your house?"

He checks the phone again and looks back up at you. "I don't have the tools with me to start it back up."

"Why don't you just bring it back to my parents' house?"

Joel chuckles. "Because your brother doesn't have any tools, he always borrows Tommy's."

You roll your eyes. "Of course, he does."

That's when another truck arrives on the end of the street, slowly driving toward you and Joel, standing on the side. You both wait in silence and you can't help but steal a glance at him standing there, his side profile facing you. The sleeves of his flannel are rolled up and you can see tiny beads of sweat on the back of his neck, running into his shirt. It looks like he's been outside today, his face a little more tanned than usual.

The tow truck comes to a halt in front of the Mercedes and after a couple of seconds a man, maybe in his seventies, gets out of it. "It's hotter than a witch's tit out here! This better be worth at least two days of yard work, boy."

Joel actually laughs and moves toward the guy. "Make it three, sir."

You don't think you've ever seen him this at ease with anyone else but Tommy. His smile lightens up his whole features, smoothing out the ever-present frown entirely.

They shake hands and Earl grins, taking a UT cap off his head. "This must be important then."

The old man looks over at you and flashes another smile, his grey moustache stretching with his grin. "And who do we have here? The trouble maker I assume."

You walk over to them and take Earl's outstretched hand, shaking it heartily. "At least the Chief seems to think so."

"Is that so?" Earl says and turns back to Joel, who rests his hands on his hips.

"Just let her work for you and you'll agree in no time, I'm sure," Joel says annoyed.

Earl laughs, his grey beard shaking. "She sure as hell can get you riled up, Miller."

Joel scoffs. "I ain't riled up, Earl."

"Sure, sure," Earl says and motions for Joel to drop it. "Let's get to work, son. The misses is going to be in outrage if I don't make it back in time for dinner with the kids."

Earl easily positions the truck in front of the Mercedes and they hook it up to pull it onto the back of the truck. Once everything is secured, the two men walk back over toward you.

"So, you wanna take a ride in a tow truck, girlie?" Earl grins.

You laugh and Joel says: "She'll be riding back with me, Earl."

"Maybe she wants to ride in the truck, Miller," Earl counters.

"Yeah, I want to ride in the truck," you say and expectantly look up at him.

Joel shakes his head in one swift motion. "It's not about what you want. Now get in the car."

"Don't tell me what to do. We're not at work. I don't have to listen to you at all," you snap.

Joel narrows his eyes. "I ain't doing that with you right now, Sweetheart."

"I'm glad we agree on that," you say.

"Imma say this one time only," Joel says, his southern drawl coming through, showing his temper simmering. "Get in the car."

"You never let me have any fun," you say and turn to Earl. "He never does."

"And you never know when to listen," Joel rumbles.

Earl looks between the both of you back and forth a couple of times. "Yeah, very calm, Miller. Not riled at all."

Joel scoffs and starts walking toward his car. "I'll see you at the house, Earl."

Earl points at you and shouts: "I like her, Joel. You should keep her around."

Joel just slams the car door shut and starts the engine. You sigh and offer a smile to Earl. "Sorry, 'bout that. He can't stand giving up control."

"Sure can," Earl agrees and gives a little wave. "Just needs a little longer to trust. Haven't seen him loose his cool this quickly in... ever really. I sure like the way you work, girlie." Earl laughs and walks over to his car, hopping up onto the truck.

You turn around and walk up to Joel's running car. From the windshield he still looks pissed. Before you can grab the door, he leans over and pushes it open for you.

"Thanks," you say and get in the truck.

Joel makes a turn and starts driving back the way you came.

"Listen," you start, "thank you for coming to get me. I hope I didn't pull you away from anything important."

Joel glances over at you, one strand of his dark hair dancing on his forehead.

"Nothing important," he says, "and don't mention it."

You frown. "'Don't mention it' as in no worries or as in don't tell anyone?"

"Both," he grunts and turns his eyes back to the road.

You both continue to ride in deafening silence until he pulls up in front of his home. The front yard is beautiful as ever and the summer flowers are in full bloom. Earl has already unloaded the Mercedes in the front. Joel kills the engine and quickly gets out. He presses something on his phone and the garage door slowly slides open. You step out of the car and walk up to the front, leaning back against it. Watching them.

Without another word, Joel opens the door of the Mercedes and with Earl's help on the back, pushes it down the driveway into the garage. Seeing him like this, heavily breathing, does absolutely nothing to you. It's not like you're thinking about the way it sounds when you close your eyes for a split second at all. Earl however looks like he isn't even pushing, but more there for moral support. Once the car is standing in the garage, Joel exhales heavily and swears.

"Hey! Let's mind our manners here, son," Earl warns. "A lady is present."

Joel steals a glance at you. "Ain't so sure 'bout that."

"You trying to get an old man to smack your head, boy?" Earl says and Joel laughs heartily.

"Not planning on it," he replies and goes over to pat Earl on the back. "Thank you for the rescue, sir. I'll see you whenever you want to cash in."

Earl nods and glances over at you. "Sure as hell worth more than yard work, huh?"

Joel's face doesn't give any reaction and Earl turns back to him. "You should bring her to Sunday lunch some time soon."

"She works for me, Earl," Joel says sternly.

Earl shrugs. "Not on Sundays, does she?"

Joel response is a roll of his eyes and a shake of his head. Earl chuckles and gives you a wave before he steps back into his tow truck. "See you, honey."

"Bye, Earl," you shout back and walk up toward the open garage.

You both watch Earl drive off in silence.

"You can wait inside, where it's cool," Joel suggests, any trace of ease or the last bit of a smile vanished from his face. You exhale heavily and you shake your head.

"I can help you," you say.

"If I need someone to not do what I tell them to, I'll come and get you."

"Wow," you say and step into the garage, hopping on the empty counter, "very original."

Joel narrows his eyes and lets them slowly run down your legs.

"I can just take you home. Your parents are probably worried," Joel says, still carefully following your feet dangling in the air.

"They're in Florida visiting my grandparents," you say. "With Casey."

"Ah," Joel says, stepping into the garage. "That's why you didn't call Casey."

"One of the reasons, yes," you say, "and he sure as well would kill me if he ever found out I took the car."

Joal sighs. "I fucking hate secrets."

"You are 'bout that?" You ask, watching him innocently. "Seems like you're pretty good at keeping them yourself."

He raises his eyebrows.

"Or did you tell Tommy about our run in in the bathroom at the BBQ?"

"That's different," he says.

"How so?"

"That wasn't on purpose."

"Oh, right," you say, "so you lifting me onto the counter or pushing me down on the shooting table weren't on purpose? You sure do like to get yourself into accidents huh, Chief?"

Joel just turns away from you with a grunt and walks to the front of the Mercedes.

Without any warnings, he shrugs off his flannel and throws it to the side on a nearby work bench. The moment he takes off the flannel you realise that maybe you should have gone inside and waited there. That that might have been a better idea, not just for your faith but for your sanity.

Joel's shirt is pressed to his entire torso, clinging to it like sticky honey. He must have been so hot under that flannel that even the thought of pressing your hand on that boiling chest makes you shift in your seat. You can't help but watch the way it stretches over his broad back, tightening over his chest. His bicep flexes as he opens the hood of the car with a grunt and it's so obscene you actually have to look away. With both hands he pulls his hair back and presses the dark curls neatly to the back of his head. The evening sun is drenching the garage in a golden shade. You watch him work on the car, get different tools and swearing from time to time. Every time he runs his sweaty hand through his hair, you have to hold your breath involuntarily. The way the sun lights up his body gives his presence a different aura, almost as if a halo-like shine as formed around him.

After a while you couldn't possible put into any form of time measurement, he suddenly comes up from underneath the hood of the car and slams it shut. "Should be fine now, I’ll try starting it back up tomorrow and bring it over as soon as I can."

You nod and Joel sighs.

"You want something to drink?" He asks.

"Sure," you say, slowly sliding down the countertop, at exactly the moment he is trying to make his way past you. Joel hesitates for a second but then quickly moves out of the way and steps toward the entrance to the house, opening the door.

You follow him into kitchen. He goes right to the fridge and you lean against the counter opposite him.

"What do you want?"

"Water is fine," you say.

Joel opens the fridge door. "I got water, beer and whatever weird energy drink Tommy brought over last night."

"I'll have a beer then," you say and he grabs two bottles, opening them quickly and handing one to you.

You grab the bottle from his hand and almost hiss when his hand touches yours. It's warm from the sun and slightly wet from the condensation on the ice cold bottle.

Joel flinches. "Sorry, I'm a bit sweaty." He rubs his hand on the back of his jeans, furrowing his brows.

You shake your head quickly. "No, I don't mind. It's just a bit cold." You say desperately trying to refrain from reaching out again. You would die if he realized just how much you would like to know what it would feel like to have that hand wrapped around you.

He closes the fridge and leans back against it, watching you intently. You hold his gaze, both taking swigs from your beers.

"Listen," he starts and then turns, opening a drawer next to him. He sets down his bottle, takes out a block of post-it notes and a pen, quickly writing something down. Then he hands it over to you.

A phone number shows on it in bold writing.

"This is for next time you get yourself into trouble," he says. "So you don't have to terrorise Tommy."

You take the note from him and hold it between your fingers. Then you take out your phone, dial the number and press the call button until you hear Joel‘s phone vibrating in his pocket.

„I feel like the only times I get myself into trouble you're usually already there."

"I ain't talking 'bout that kind of trouble, kid," Joel says huskily. You don't realise it, but as if on it's own accord, your body moves away from the counter and veers ever so slightly toward him.

"Don't call me kid," you say.

"What would you rather I call you, huh?" Joel asks, taking his beer bottle back from the counter.

"Don't know," you tilt your head. "Should it also depend on whether I'm in between your legs or does that only apply to me addressing you?"

"Why do you have to bring that up?" He asks, the grip on his bottle tightening.

"Maybe I'm just trying to get you all riled up as Earl puts it."

"I ain't between them now am I, Darlin'?" Joel drawls.

"Is that a factual statement or a suggestion?" You raise your eyebrows in question.

"You are trying to make things very hard for me, aren't you?" Joel sighs and rubs a hand over his face.

"How hard is kinda your thing I guess, don't you agree?"

He scoffs, but can't hide the way the corner of his mouth slightly twitches.

"You ever think about it"? You ask.

When he shakes his head and pushes himself off the counter, the beer bottle in his hand grazes your arm. You raise your head up to him, letting his warm breath hit your cheek.

"No," he says and keeps his eyes locked on your lips.

You grin. "You're a bad liar."

"And you're out of your depths, Sweetheart.“

"Maybe I like being there," you say, "maybe it's nice to not be able to feel the ground."

Another inch disappears between you two, when he places his bottle on the counter behind you.

"Maybe I'm just waiting on you to rescue me," you say, waiting for him to say something.

But Joel just stares at you with narrowed eyes as if he is trying to figure something out. Something that he can't grab a hold of. Something that has been bothering him for weeks. And maybe it is time to finally dare open up the box, to release the bird from its cage and let it flap its strong wings with nothing but the vast open sky above.

"Are you going to come out and rescue me, Mr. Miller?" You whisper.

You're close enough to trace his smell oozing from him and could count the hairs of his beard one by one, if you had the time. Nothing happens, it is just the sound of your breathing in sync, resounding in the silent kitchen.

His hand rises to your hips and he draws his eyebrows further together as if he was pushing against an imaginary barrier in his mind. You cannot help but inhale sharply as he carefully lets his right index finger curl around the belt loop on your shorts. You feel the softest tug that pulls you toward him.

"Me dropping everything to come and get you once today isn't enough for you, Darlin'?" Joel says softly, his eyes showing that familiar twinkle.

You can't help but let loose a little grin for him and lift your chin up toward his. "Maybe I just like to see you workin'."

Now it's Joel's time to smile almost unnoticably, before his face morphs back into that exterior of stone. The only thing giving him away is the way the brown in his eyes has turned molten, making you think of strawberries dipped in warm chocolate.

"Is that so, honey?" He says.

"What about you?" You ask.

"What about me?" Joel says.

You lift up your hand without thinking and put one finger directly in the middle of his chest. Joel almost hides his flinch.

"What do you like?"

He exhales a shaky breath.

"Huh?" You say, when he doesn't reply.

"I liked seeing you sitting in my garage," Joel says after a while, his voice husky and calm.

"Why?"

"I like you watching me work," he says even softer.

You smile up at him. "I already knew that," you say, "tell me something I don't know."

Joel huffs and in one swift motion has snuck his hand into the belt loop at the back of your shorts, grabbing the fabric, pulling you flush to him. The feel of his jeans against yours surely will never leave your head until you pass from this earth. Your chest grazes his still damp shirt and you wonder wether this will be one of those vital moments in your life you later think back on.

"I ain't much of a talker, Sweetheart," he says, using the other hand to brush a strand of hair from your cheek.

"Why do I not believe that, Mr. Miller?" You narrow your eyes. "Or is it Chief now already?"

"When you're standing between my legs, you can call me whatever you want, Darlin'," he says and lowers his head in slow motion.

„I thought it wasn’t about what I want,“ you say.

Joel’s mouth is so close that it would only need a little nudge of his hand to erase the distance between the two of you.

„Out there it’s not,“ he says, his lips moving deliciously slow. „In here, it’s only about what you want.“

„Then show me what you like and I’ll tell you what I want, Jo-„

"JOEL!"

Tommy's voice resounds from the opening front door.

Before he has stepped into the kitchen, you've pushed yourself off of Joel's chest and put as much space as possible between the both of you.

"Joel?" Tommy calls again. "What are you doing? I thought you were gonna come back. I had to stop Mary like five times from calling yo-"

Tommy enters the kitchen and comes to a halt as he sees the both of you on opposite ends of the counter. You in front, Joel in the back, the countertop covering him from the waist down.

"Oh hey," Tommy says and smiles. "What are you doing here?"

"Your brother helped me out with some car trouble," you explain. "I tried calling you, but he picked up your phone."

Tommy nods. "Oh yeah, I'm sorry, I was out dancing," he says and does a little shimmy in the doorway. "What happened?"

"Nothing really," you say and wave it off. "The chief came to the rescue."

Joel's eyes flash over to you for a split second and then land back on Tommy.

"Why didn't you come back?" Tommy asks him and Joel shrugs.

"Took longer than I thought," Joel grunts.

Tommy sighs. "You could have called. Mary literally was about to come over here. I think she might have developed a bit of a thing for you. A little much for a first date, but who am I to judge?"

Your head snaps to Tommy. "Date?"

Tommy walks over and laughs, sitting down at the counter. "Oh yeah, I convinced Joel to go out with my friend's sister and I thought it was going well but then he vanished, saving you apparently and didnt come back."

You can't help but grin as you watch Joel's face turn a little red.

"Must have been a good date then?" You ask and Joel rolls his eyes.

"You made me look bad, Joel," Tommy complains and Joel grabs his beer.

"Wasn't for me," Joel says, taking a swig.

"She seemed nice," Tommy says.

"Too agreeable," Joel counters and shoots you a look.

"Didn't know the chief was dating," you say and take a sip of your beer as well.

"Didn't know you'd be interested in knowing," Joel says and Tommy frowns, looking back and forth between you two.

"Alright," Tommy says, "I'll take you home, little C, before you both kill each other."

"Thanks, Tommy," you say and put the bottle on the counter.

"See ya, Chief," you call and leave Joel standing in his kitchen, still leaning against the fridge, watching you like a hawk. The moment you’re in Tommy’s car, your phone resounds with the familiar ding of an incoming message. You pull it out of your pocket and check, a smile spreading on your lips.

"Really, it is just one afternoon, nothing extravagant. Just coffee," Lori says and her nervous gaze tries to focus on your face. It has been a hectic day to say the least. The guy who was supposed to auction off a tarot reading apparently lost his psychic abilities and has fallen through. So now Lori needs another act for the whole spiel.

"I told you, I can totally wing it," you say. "I'll just get one of those card decks and talk a lot about mercury in retrograde."

She shakes her head. "Zain is a medium, love. You cannot just wing that. You are born with these abilities." It feels like Lori has taken this thing very seriously and probably was the one usually bidding for a precious hour with Zain.

"Didn't he quit because he lost his abilities?"

"He goes through phases," she explains. "He told me that I would meet my second husband in a WholeFoods near the spices and I always feel a particular sensation whenever I pass that special aisle."

"Oh," you say. "And did you? Meet him, I mean?"

"Oh honey, no. I am still in my first marriage," she replies. "But please don't try to read cards. Just give them some minor, non liable, legal advice or whatever they feel like talking about, yes?"

You shrug. "Sure, I can do that."

She presses her palms together and gives a little bow. "Thank you."

You mirror her gesture and grin. "My pleasure, Lori."

A couple of hours later, you're standing next to Daniel and his friend Mark talking about spear fishing and you wonder how on earth you got into this conversation.

"It is so thrilling, I am telling you," Daniel says and leans over to you. "You totally need to come the next time we head out."

"Thanks," you say. "I'll totally think about it."

The station is filled with an incredible amount of people you didn't even know could fit inside. It is packed. Everyone is talking, drinking and eating little sliders and sweets that one of the officer's sons made for the day. You haven't seen the chief at all. Not that you were looking for him. That would be weird. You definitely weren't. You're just concerned that the person in charge of this station hasn't deemed it appropriate to grace ya'll with his presence.

"Have you seen the chief?" You ask Daniel, who shakes his head.

"He's probably outside with the mayor. He usually only comes in for the auction," he explains.

Lori's voice resounds from the back of the room, calling everyone to the little makeshift stage. You huddle next to Daniel, trying to get a good spot, but get pushed a little to the back by some very eager elderly ladies. The first item for auction is a mug with the police station's logo on it. So we're starting quite low. The second one is a basketball signed by the high school team. Both items get auctioned off to the two older ladies in front of you, who, for whatever reason, are having the time of their lives.

"Do you have your eyes set on a prize?"

You could point out that voice that trails down your neck from anywhere. The low rumble against your right ear and the hot breath against your skin. You don't turn your head, just lean back slightly, checking how much space he has left between you two. By the feel of his chest grazing your back, not much.

"Maybe," you say. "But there's lots of competition." You subtly point to the two women in front of you.

The chief chuckles almost inaudibly and leans forward ever so slightly. You can feel the buttons of his shirt press into your shoulder blades. If you weren't surrounding by a crowd of people, all pushing against each other, this might be outrageous.

"Nothing you can't handle, I assume," he says.

"They seem very determined to me," you reply.

"I wouldn't have thought you'd be afraid of two senior citizens," he says.

"Clearly you have no idea what damage two women over 70 can do."

"Maybe I just have a lot of faith in you?"

You turn your head and meet his eyes. The brown is warm and inviting, nothing like before. Golden specks dart inside of them, showing off their dance. His hair is combed back, but his beard isn't trimmed, making him look rakish. He isn't wearing his usual white button down, but a flannel and a jacket you've seen him wear a couple of times.

"Maybe you should talk to a priest about that," you say.

"Nothing I haven't considered before," he replies and a small tug appears at the corner of his mouth. The seconds pass like the lazy ticking of a clock. If you weren't a reasonable women you would almost say it's hypnotising having him looking at you like that.

"Hi," the chief says softly, holding your gaze.

"You're late," you reply.

"Briefing with the mayor," he says and cocks his head.

"Do you have your eyes on anything particular?" You ask him.

His brows furrow. "I need you to specify that question for me, Darlin."

You roll your eyes and sigh.

"Are you bidding on anything today?" You say.

He shakes his head and is about to say something when you hear your name called from the back. You turn your head and Lori is standing on the little stage, waving eagerly. Everyone has turned to face you.

"Oh god," you say and immediately moving forward a bit, putting some distance between you and the chief.

"What in Jesus name-," Joel whispers and then Daniel is there to grab your hand and pull you towards the back of the room. In a matter of seconds you're being pushed up on a couple of boxes next to Lori, who is beaming at you.

"This is our lovely new assistant for the summer. She's a big lawyer from the city and has kindly offered to pitch in for the sake of the station." Her exaggerated introduction gets a round of applause.

Your eyes search for familiar ones and once found can only spot Joel's face of disbelief. This turned out to be weirder than you thought it would be.

"We're auctioning off a special dinner with her. She's kindly offered to also help with some of your legal questions, but we all know that spending an evening with this lovely lady should be enough of a prize as is. The first bid is 50$," Lori shouts.

Your head snaps to the side. "You said coffee, Lori."

You try to keep your voice down, but can't help hide your surprise.

Lori pats your arm and whispers, "Sorry dear, you're a lovely girl, but nobody is going to spend 50$ on coffee and we really needed to make up for Zain's part."

You look at her, stunned.

"You'll be fine," she says and turns back to the crowd. "Can I hear 50$?"

There is a stretch of silence that feels like two hours and then all of a sudden near where Joel is standing, Tommy raises his hand and shouts. "Here for 50$".

You mouth a silent thank you towards him. He gives you a thumbs up and you're almost relaxing, when another hand goes up further back near the door.

"60$!" A guy in a polo shirt with the most severe sunburn on his face shouts from the side.

Oh Lord. This is going to be a tough one. You try to search for Joel's face and maybe telepathically tell him to step the fuck up, but his face has morphed back into his usual stern expression, giving away nothing.

Tommy raises his hand again and goes for 80$, but the guy matches him at 100$. The man looks at you with a grin that is definitely giving creep vibes. When you're about to convince yourself that he's probably just a normal guy, he actually licks his lips while making full eye contact. Hell nah. You're about to abort this mission, when someone shouts from the back of the room.

"500$!"

The whole crowd gasps in unison.

"Do we hear 510$?" Lori shouts and after a couple of seconds of silence she claps. "The mayor has just donated 500$ to the station!"

The whole crowd cheers. The mayor? What on earth is happening here. People are still cheering, when Lori guides you off the stage into Daniel's arms.

"Did you just see that?" He shouts and pats you on your shoulder.

"I literally was standing up there."

He shakes his head. "Wow, that is so cool. To be able to spend a whole evening with the mayor. You're so lucky, he is the coolest guy ever."

Daniel apparently has a crush you didn't know about.

"What makes him so cool?" You ask and Daniel starts rambling on about how he has worked his way up all on his own bla bla bla - you get the gist. From what you're hearing is that the mayor is literally just a guy.

"Sounds like a real shooting star," you say, sarcastically.

"Please, only my mother calls me that," someone says from behind you. You turn around and there he is - the famously cool mayor.

You didn't expect him to be so.. young? He looks about mid 30s, with a neatly ironed blue button down on and some dark blue slacks. Without a tie and his sleeves rolled up, he looks not much older than Casey or Daniel. His hair is so dark, it makes the green in his eyes even more striking. You can tell from the way it is styled into a perfect side swoop that he probably spends more time in front of a mirror than at work. He is, besides the dramatic hairdo, uncomfortably good looking. And then he smiles only to reveal a set of perfectly straight white politician teeth.

You can't help but smile back. "Your mother sounds like a real supporter."

"You can never outgrow your parents, can you?" He says and offers his hand. "I don't think we have been introduced yet."

You shake your head and take his hand. "Nice to meet you, sir."

"Oh, let's leave the formalities to the rest of them, shall we? I'm Sebastian."

You say your name and let go of his hand. "You didn't have to do that by the way."

"Do what?" He raises his eyebrows.

"The bid," you say. "That's a lot of money you spent there."

He shrugs. "It's just money."

"Bold thing to say in this economy," you say and he smiles.

"You don't think an evening with you is worth at least 500$?"

"I might think so, but you have no idea who I am, maybe I am unbearable and only like to talk about particular species of tropical insects?"

Sebastian laughs. "And maybe the possibility of getting to know that about you among other things is worth much more to me than 500$ in my pocket."

That shuts you up and Daniel elbows you in the side. "See, I told you he is cool. So suave."

"You should start putting him on your payroll," you say pointing at Daniel. "He's really been advertising your role."

"Has he now?" Sebastian raises his eyebrows. "And here I was thinking I wasn't the station's favourite."

Daniel scoffs. "Of course not, I've been rooting for you for years now. I actually think what you did for our town has been incredibly necessary."

"I'm glad you think so," Sebastian says, running a hand through his hair.

"I've been meaning to ask you," Daniel says. "Would you like a tour of the station?"

Sebastian grins. "Sure, I'd love to. Would you like to join us?"

He turns to you, expectantly.

"Sure," you say and follow them through the crowd. Daniel first shows the archives and the offices as well as the staff kitchen. You make your way down to the basement, which harbours the equipment closets and the shooting practice range.

"I don't think I've ever been down here before," you say.

"That's because it's usually only open for officers," Daniel says and opens the door to the range. "But today I'll make an exception."

You follow the men into the room. It is quite dark and even once Daniel turns on the lights, it doesn't really get any brighter. There are three stalls next to each other, with a long table about hip high. In the back you can see the practice papers showing prints resembling figures and large crosshairs.

"Nice plays you got," Sebastian says and steps up to one of the stalls. "How often of you get to practice down here?"

"Whenever I want," Daniel says. "The chief doesn't really use it."

"He doesn't need to practice?" Sebastian asks.

Daniel shrugs. "I don't think he likes it much."

Sebastian hums.

"Do you want to try it out?" Daniel asks you both, grinning.

Sebastian takes a step forward. "You think that's fine with your boss?"

Daniel nods eagerly. "Told you he's never down here and I don't really care what he thinks."

You frown. "Okay Brutus, calm yourself down."

Sebastian laughs and Daniel opens up one of the closets, which, as you now see, are stacked with firearms.

"Funny," Daniel mumbles and takes a gun out of the cabinet. "Which one do you want, sir?"

"He'll have mine pointed at him if he takes one step toward the one you're holding right now," the chief says from behind you.

He's leaning against the door, arms crossed, lethal stare ready to kill. Fuck. His hair is a little dishevelled like he has run his hand through it quite a few times and the top of his shirt is unbuttoned one button too far. He breathes a bit too heavily for having just waltzed in the door.

You and Daniel both take a step back away from him.

Daniel almost trips as he staggers back. "Sir, I was just-

"Put the gun down, Riley," Joel says calmly.

"I'm sorry, Chief, I was just-"

"Get out," Joel barks and takes a couple steps into the room to open up the doorway he was blocking.

"I am so sorry, I really didn't mea-" Daniel starts again and Joel just stares at him. He cocks his head and like a bad behaving child, Daniel puts the gun back into the cabinet, struts out of the room and almost runs up the stairs.

"Now to you," Joel says a after a second and his eyes land on Sebastian, who has taken a seat on one of the tables, seemingly enjoying the show. He does not look at you once.

"You're gonna tell me off too, Joel?" Sebastian smiles mockingly.

"You should go back upstairs and do your job," Joel replies.

"And what might that be, huh?"

"Shaking hands, making empty promises, kissing ass," the chief answers. "You know, whatever you're good at."

Sebastian's grin fades quickly. "Bold statement coming from a person that's serving my office."

Joel's expression stays blank. "Bold statement coming from the only man in this room who's not armed."

He uncrosses his arms, to reveal the gun strapped to his shoulder holster. "Or are you hiding something under that hair of yours?"

"Are you threatening me now?" Sebastian says nonchalantly, but moves off the table to stand.

"I am giving you an order," Joel says.

"It's cute that you think I take orders from you, Miller."

"Let's see how cute you think being escorted from the station for trespassing is then."

"Daniel let us in here. That is not trespassing or do you need to refresh your police academy education?"

"Do you see Daniel anywhere here?" Joel asks and looks around him. "I sure as hell don't."

He takes a step toward Sebastian. "This is a secure room, only to be entered by people who are employed at this station. As the operating chief of police it is in my power to enforce these regulations and to remove any threat to this station and its employees. I repeatedly told you to vacate the premises. If you do not follow this order I will personally make sure you get a personal tour of one of our holding cells for the night, how does that sound, Mr. Mayor?"

Sebastian looks at you.

"Don't look at her, look at me," Joel growls.

"You should know when to stay in your lane, Miller."

"If you think I am above carrying you out of this station then you think entirely too highly of me," he replies and after a moment steps out of the mayor's way. "It was a pleasure having you, please come again."

Sebastian hisses the most subtle fuck you, you've ever heard and gets out of the room. Right as he passes you buy, he turns to you.

"If you ever want to work for someone sane, you give me a call," he says and then smiles mischievously. "I'll call you about that dinner."

The mayor steps out of the room and walks slowly up the stairs.

The silence he leaves is deafening.

"Close the door," Joel says slowly.

You do as he says. The heavy metal door closes with a loud thud and you turn back around toward him. He is leaning against the table Sebastian was just sitting on, staring back at you.

"Listen-" you start, but he raises his hand to stop you.

"Do I look like I want to hear your explanation?" He says, sternly.

He's looked at you angrily before, but never like this. His features have hardened into the mask you've gotten to know better over the last few weeks. The mask that has only slipped for a couple of moments here and there. Moments that make their way to the forefront of your mind whenever you're all by yourself, whenever your eyes close, you're trying to focus or falling asleep. Moments that feel so fleeting that remembering them feels like trying to trap a hummingbird with your bear hands. You drop your gaze.

"Two things," he says slowly, ripping you out of your thoughts. "One, you will not be going to that dinner and two, you will start listening to what I say or you're out." The chief holds up two fingers in front of him.

"You can't tell me not to go," you say. "I'm not your property."

"That's right," he says. "Much worse. You're my employee."

"Which means you should actually do as I say," Joel leans forward and almost growls when he says, "If you go to that dinner, you're done here."

"That's blackmail," you whisper.

"That's an order," he insists.

"I don't take orders from you," you snap and Joel lowers his head, threateningly.

"Did you not just see what happened to the last guy that tried that shit with me?"

You shrug. "Did you not understand the first time I told you that?"

"You will be taking a lot more than just orders from me, if you keep up this tone, Darlin."

"Is this the part where you tell me off like the boys or do I get the usual "I'm the chief of police and what I say goes"- speech?" You say. "Or does that come later?"

Joel exhales sharply. "Why were you down here with them?"

"Were you looking for me?"

"Just answer the damn question."

"Daniel asked if he could show Sebastian around and he asked if I wanted to join and I said sure," you reply.

"It's Sebastian now, is it?" He spits out the name like its some fruit gone bad.

"That was how he introduced himself to me," you say.

Joel nods slowly. "And you thought it would be a good idea to shoot some guns with Sebastian, huh?"

"Daniel said it would be fine, if we wanted to try it out," you argue.

"Christ," Joel says and rubs a hand over his forehead, freeing a lock that falls into his face.

"I didn't think it would be a that big of a deal," you say.

"You didn't think that's for sure," Joel snaps.

"I wasn't going to do it alone, Daniel was here," you reply, getting annoyed.

"Daniel had to take his shooting tests three times. He needs regular training to keep up with the rest. Did he tell you that as well?" Joel barks. "Did he also tell you that almost 30,000 people hurt themselves each year due to accidental firearm injuries? People get killed by not thinking."

You cross your arms. "I am around guns here all day. Maybe if someone would show me how to properly use one, I wouldn't be the liability I apparently am!"

Joel shakes his head. "You might work here, but you still are a civilian. Not a police officer."

"Daniel would have shown me," you say. Joel cocks his head to the side.

"Daniel would do a lot of things if you let him," Joel says, his eyes darkening.

You raise your eyebrows. "Does that make you angry, sir?"

He scoffs. "If you're asking if Riley makes my life harder the answer is yes."

"But does it bother you?"

"You should know that it takes more than that puppy to make me angry," Joel mutters.

"So it's me," you say. "I make you angry."

"You get on my nerves, there is a difference."

"Maybe if you stop treating me like an incapable child and more like a person with a functioning brain it might stop," you say.

"Maybe if you start acting like a person with a functioning brain I might start treating you like one," Joel replies.

"Then show me how to shoot and I won't need to rely on Daniel to protect me if I get into trouble," you say.

"Let me make a couple of things clear to you right now," he says. The strand of his hair is dangling into his right eye, making you slightly loose your focus. "First of all, you will not ever rely on Riley to protect you and second, as long as you are working here at this station, you will not ever get into anything that even resembles the kind of trouble you are talking about. Because I will make sure that that stays as far away from you as possible."

"So other trouble is allowed?"

He frowns, his eyes widening for a split second. "What kind?"

"What do you think?" You say and Joel huffs out a breath.

"Don't even st-"

"The kind that might come from me asking you to show me how to use a gun?"

Joel groans and pushes himself off the table. "Jesus Christ, fine!"

He walks toward the closets on the side of the room and he grabs a gun from the shelf. A couple of clicking sounds resound and then he turns back to you.

"Stand in front of the table," he says.

You grin and step up to the shooting stall, facing the paper figures in the back. You feel him even before you hear him coming up behind you. His breath blows against your neck and you can't help but think if this is another moment that is going to bite into your brain later and never let go.

"That is the safety," he says, pointing to a little lever on the gun, he's holding out in front of you. "You release it, the gun is hot, you close it, it won't fire."

Joel lifts his hand and holds the gun up to you. "Take it."

You wrap your fingers around it, slowly. It is heavier than you thought it was going to be. The cold metal a weird feeling on your skin.

"Lift it up and aim," he says and you follow his instruction.

He leans back a little. "Spread your legs for me," he says.

"Sorry?"

"Your stance needs to be wider," he says, tapping your outer thigh. The slight touch of his fingers feels like they're burning a hole through your pants right down to your skin, leaving a mark. When you keep looking at him, he adds, "Eyes on the target."

You move your legs to a wider stance.

"Shoulders back," he says and you pull back your shoulders, only to have them press into his chest. The materials of your shirts audibly scrunching against each other.

If you were concentrating on anything but the feel of his chest against your back, you might have noticed his breathing getting heavier. But when he lifts his arms and wraps his hands around yours, holding the gun steady in your hand, you finally loose all focus, wondering if this actually was the stupidest idea ever.

"Lock your arms," Joel utters. "Whenever you draw a gun, you should always have your body in this position to protect your shoulders from the recoil and to have a secure shot."

You nod, trying to concentrate on anything else than the sensation of his belt against your back. Christ, it's like you've never been close to a man before. But now you're close enough to sense his smell and you kind of don't want to move away, ever.

"Once you're ready to shoot, you take a deep breath in," he says and you inhale, shakily. "Take a deep breath out." You slowly exhale.

"And shoot," he says.

You pull the trigger and the sound that comes from the gun is nothing but a click. You pull the trigger again, but the only thing that resounds is the clicking sound of an empty gun.

"What?" You say and turn your head to find Joel grinning.

"You didn't give me a real gun?"

"Oh, it is a real gun," he says. "Just not loaded."

"Are you serious?" You say.

"You didn't actually think I would let you shoot a gun, did you? Are you out of your goddamn mind?" He says, stepping back, making room for you to turn around.

"I can't believe you," you exclaim and let the gun fall onto the table.

"This ain't some movie bullshit, Darlin. You can actually hurt yourself and I am not putting you in a position where you are able to do that."

"How could I possibly hurt myself when you're literally standing right behind me?"

"You don't need to fire a gun to know how to handle one," he says.

"So you just wanted a little feel up close behind me, did ya?" You hiss and cock your head. "Maybe you should have bid at the auction so you could have gotten your money's worth. But no, Sebastian got there first, too bad."

Joel slams his hand on the wall next to your head, separating the shooting stalls. "If you think even for a second I'm gonna take that guy's money and let you go to that dinner, you're dead wrong, Sweetheart."

"Don't Sweetheart me, Miller," you say. "And it is not up to you whether or not I go. At least it's not that creepy fucking dude in the polo."

"Oh", Joel raises his hands mockingly. "The mayor to the rescue."

You narrow your eyes. "Did it even for a second occur to you that you could have been the one bidding on that stupid dinner to save me from going out with that weird dude?"

"It did not, no."

"Wow," you say. "Thanks for that. I'm auctioned off like some fucking horse and you did not bother to think about helping me. Real nice, Miller."

Joel sighs. "I am not allowed to bid at the auction. None of the staff is. And I am your superior. I can't bid on an evening alone with you. That would be highly inappropriate."

"Right," you say, crossing your arms. "Because that's the one thing to happen now that would be inappropriate. Sure."

He rolls his eyes. "And if I had known that you were up there, I wouldn't have allowed it in the first place."

"Allowed it?" You say. "Who are you? My school principle?"

"Why on earth did you even agree?" He asks and ignores my jab.

"I agreed to a coffee. Lori said it would just be a cup of coffee."

"Christ," Joel groans. "Does no one ever run anything by me at this fucking station anymore?"

"That feels like a you-problem to me."

"Thanks for the input," he says sarcastically and you silently stare at each other. The golden specks in his eyes have been replaced by a stern darkness. His face has hardened again, leaving no room for any funny business.

"And unlike the mayor I do not need to pay 500 bucks to spend some alone time with you," Joel says. "I just wait until the next time you stumble into my bathroom in a bikini."

You inhale sharply. "That was an accident!"

"Okay," he says. "Then I'll just show you how to really shoot. Turn around again for me, honey, so I can get a good feel, huh?"

"You're such an asshole, Miller," you hiss and raise your hand to push against his chest, but he grabs your wrist before you can hit him. With one quick tug he pulls you tightly against him and turns your arm around your back. One step forward and he has you trapped between his body and the shooting table. You're breathing heavily and he's close enough for you two see a single bead of sweat trickle down his neck over his tan skin into the front of his button down.

You lift your chin in a challenge. "You can just tell me if you want to take me to dinner. No need to get all riled up."

"Imma take you to a lot of places," he says, his southern drawl slipping through, "dinner won't be one of 'em."

You laugh. "Uhh, I'm shaking in my boots."

"You so desperately want to be taught a fucking lesson, don't you?" He hisses and his eyebrows narrow, his grip fastening.

"And you so desperately want to teach me one, don't you, Mr. Miller?"

He lifts his free hand, placing it on top of the table, pushing you to lean back onto it. For the first time your bodies are consciously fully pressed against each other and almost as if it is a reflex, you slowly open up your legs for him. Joel's head snaps down to your hips, his eyes widening. You think he's about to say something but his lips just part slightly as he moves to step in-between your legs. He's towering over you, still holding on to the wrist that's pinned to your back. This cannot be good. Your mind goes completely blank as his eyes trail up from your hips over your body and fasten on yours. They're like a gloomy dark sky harbouring the promise of a storm.

"What did I tell you about calling me Mr. Miller?"

"Last time I checked, I'm not wearing a bikini and this isn't your house," you whisper.

"Exactly," Joel says, "so it's Chief for you."

"Does that only apply when you're between my legs or also when you need to scratch that power itch again?"

Within the blink of an eye he lets go of your hand and pushes himself away from you. "Who says these are two separate things, Darlin?"

You sit up, scrutinising him.

Joel narrows his eyes. "Now get out, before I change my mind about that lesson."

You push yourself off the table. ""Look who's talking now."

"You need me to spell it out for ya?" He says and walks toward the door, opening it, motioning for you to get out.

"Thanks for the instructions, Chief," you say sarcastically as you make your way out of the room. "Really helpful. Especially the practical part."

His fingers imperceptibly brush against your lower back as you pass him by the door. "For the rest of the day," he starts and lowers his gaze to yours. His eyes giving him away for the quickest second. "Be a good girl now, will ya."

You step out of the room and turn for the stairs. One last glance over your shoulder. "Yes, sir."

Silence. Seventeen minutes of nothing, but utter silence. That was what happened between the chief of police and you when he drove you home that night from the bar. He did not say a word to you the whole time as if he had been frightened by his own conviction. When he had stopped the truck in front of your parent's house and opened the car door for you, he didn't even glance at you. No eye contact whatsoever. You figured he was pissed that maybe he had let himself get carried away. Let you rile him up and loose a fraction of his stoic control. You knew he didn't like you very much and that you were making his job way harder than it needed to be. But being a pain in the ass was just too enjoyable to give it up anytime soon. You figured Joel Miller was the type of guy who wasn't usually confronted with someone questioning his decisions or ignoring his orders. You like to give a man a hard time as much as the next girl does. The duty to be as resistant as possible was something you took very seriously. So when he invited you to the Miller's Fourth of July BBQ, you couldn't help but feel a little taken aback. Okay, maybe that's a bit of a stretch. He invited the whole station, not you specifically. So maybe you had been the necessary evil?

"Quit acting like a troubled main-character and get the beer, will ya?" Your brother shouts from the hallway. "I told Tommy we would be there in 10."

You roll your eyes. "I was thinking, Casey. Maybe you should try it some time."

Your brother laughs and pushes his way through the front door. "And grab your bathing suit, Tommy said the pool is open for business."

"Will do," you shout, throw your bag over your shoulder and grab the two sixers standing on the counter.

You rush out and jump in the car. The sun has been beating down all day and humidity is at an all time high. The air feels thick and heavy, resting on your skin like a layer of sand. Casey is rambling on about his last baseball game and how this one kid always makes sure to get on his last nerve. He teaches little league on Sundays and hasn't won a game in weeks. It's driving him nuts, but he loves it.

"Listen," he starts and turns down the Eagles' song that's playing on the radio. "Can you at least try to be nice to Joel today?"

Your head whips to your side. "Sorry?"

Casey clears his throat. "You know, just make some normal conversation or tell him you like his shirt or whatever."

"For what?" You ask, confused.

"It just seems like you don't get along."

"And why would you think that?"

"Well," Casey mumbles. "He never answers when we ask him how ya'll are getting on and Tommy has been saying he's been a little on edge ever since you started working there."

"And you always look at each other like you're two seconds away from throwing punches," he adds. "Maybe he thinks you don't like him."

"Why would he think that?" You say. "I have been perfectly professional." Images of his eyes dragging over your face flash in your mind. His lips parted slightly, his smell making his way up your nose, unnervingly intoxicating. "Maybe he just needs to cool the control freak energy a little."

"You know how you get," he says. "He needs a little time to warm up. Help him out a little."

"He's a grown man, Casey," you reply. "He is able to communicate if he has a problem. And if he is not, maybe he shouldn't be the chief of police."

Casey lifts is hand and points at you. "That's exactly what I'm talking about, dude. Just be nice and not like.. this."

"Sure, brother," you say and grin. "I'll be nice and agreeable and won't embarrass you in front of your friends."

He rolls his eyes just as you pull up in front of a house. You both get out and your brother gets some grocery bags from the backseat. The front of the house is white, but the window panes are painted in a lovely washed out brown and the door is a deep dark wood that reminds you of trusting dark eyes. The front lawn is perfectly trimmed and there is an outdoor sofa on the porch that looks like the perfect place for a morning coffee. Everything looks extremely well taken care of. Music is resounding from the backyard.

"Tommy's house is beautiful," you remark and glance at your brother.

He laughs. "At least now you have something to compliment him on."

"As if that has been an issue with him before."

"I ain't talking about the youngster," Casey grins. "It's Joel's house."

You turn your head abruptly. "What?"

"Tommy is redoing his garden this year, so Joel offered to do the party at his place. They even got his pool all cleaned up and running, since he never uses it," Casey explains and walks up the driveway. "Tommy told me to just come 'round the back."

You follow your brother up the path and both of you turn around the corner, heading for the backyard. Tommy is the first one you spot, standing by the grill in swimming trunks with a bottle in his hand, talking to some friends you recognise from other gatherings. The party is in full bloom, people lounging on chairs, the grass and in the pool, laughing, drinking.

"Hey bud," Casey calls. "Where do you want this?"

Tommy points to the far side of the garden, where tables have been brought out. You walk over and put the beers on the wooden tables, taking in your surroundings. The backyard is a huge open space, with a terracotta pathway that leads to the crystal clear pool and a fire pit with chairs around it a couple of steps to the back. Hedges and huge hydrangeas line the outer edges of the grass and pots of tomatoes, herbs and other flowers are scattered around in various places. Jesus Christ. The cold hearted chief has a green thumb. There are some chairs and tables set up for eating and coolers filled with drinks.

Casey carries the rest of the bags inside the house and a couple moments later walks out in his trunks. "If I don't get into that pool right now I might melt from this heat."

A couple of the others laugh and most of them follow his lead to the swimming pool as Tommy walks over to you.

"Hey," he says. "I'm happy you could come!"

You smile. "Thanks for having me, this all looks amazing."

"Well," he says. "I do tend to pride myself on my abilities as a host."

"So I've heard."

"Might I suggest a dip in the pool before your brother decides to race everyone here," he jokes and points to the backdoor of the house. "If you want to change, just use the guest room."

"Thanks." You start to make your way toward the house before you realise you have never been here before. "Where is the guest room?"

Tommy turns. "Oh, right, up the stairs and to your left."

You nod and step inside the house. With all the sun outside, your eyes need a couple seconds to adjust to the low lighting in the kitchen. Making your way up the stairs, you look at the pictures hanging on the wall. You recognise Tommy and the chief, as well as other family members out on a beach, on fishing trips and in front of Christmas trees. A family man. Who would have thought?

In the guest room, you quickly undress and change into your bikini. Thankful to be stripping of your already sweaty summer dress, you stuff the clothes into your bag and make your way back to the hallway. Did Tommy say there was a bathroom up here? You don't remember, but take a right and make your way down the hallway. The first door on the right just leads to the utility closet, but the second one opens up to a bathroom. It is even warmer in here and the mirror you spot to the left is still a little foggy. Someone from the party probably showered before the pool.

You take a step inside and are about to close the door behind you, when a gasped "Fuck" resounds from your right and you quickly turn toward it, only to find yourself slipping on a little puddle of water. You have already accepted your fate of falling straight on your ass and are wondering why on earth you keep getting in these situations and if you should consider doing more squats, when a hand grabs your arm and yanks you back. You've seen that hand before. It has held a closet over your head, helped you into a truck and was splayed out on the back of the wall, right next to your head in the hallway of the bar. But the hand cannot stop the force of your fall, so your body pulls it back and as you're about to crash against the door, you feel your body being turned and slam into ... oh god.

Your eyes travel up from the throat to the face. His brows are furrowed. A stern expression on his face and you almost have to turn away from the piercing gaze of his eyes. He looks angry, leaning against the door, his body having shielded yours from the impact, only for it to be smashed into his and held in place by both his arms wrapped around you. Time doesn't exist for a solid minute, while you're both just staring at each other. The warmth of his arms against your exposed skin feels tauntingly familiar. You quickly suppress the urge to lean into him any further, to pressure the weight of your hips forward.

His palm is splayed out on your lower back and you can't help but feel the tip of his fingers dig in a little lower than they probably should. Your lips part in reflex and you think you must imagine the way his eyes soften for a second, holding on to your mouth. Your eyes trail down the hollow of his neck and find themselves on your hands, playing directly on his very broad and very naked chest. There is no way this is happening right now.

"Oh god, no," you say and shake your head.

"I don't think Jesus is gonna help you with this one, Darlin'," Joel Miller drawls. His voice is nothing more than a growl as he speaks to you.

His skin is hot and damp from showering, smelling like eucalyptus and a hint lemony. You feel the drops of water caught on his chest under your hands. This should definitely not be happening.

"I think you should move," he suggests.

"Is this the part where you tell me to 'get on my knees and crawl' or does that just happen at work?" Sometimes you wish your mind would take a second to rethink the things coming out of your mouth.

He grunts and in one quick motion, he bends his knees, lifts you up and pushes both of you off the door. You expect him to drop you immediately, but he takes two steps toward the sinks. Before you can even comprehend the feel of his hands on the back of your legs, he places you on top of the vanity.

The chief of police is standing right between your legs, wearing.. a towel wrapped around his hips. If you were wearing pearls, you probably would be clutching them now.

Just now, when he is standing fully before you are you able to take in the sight of him. His hair is a little ruffled and still dripping. He hasn't shaved and looks like he's about to say something, but stops himself in his tracks. As if he is now just realising who he has in front of him, his eyes run over your body, tentatively, widening by the second. Oh right, it's not that he is just wearing a towel - you are wearing a bikini. And not even one that covers more than what's basically decent. Christ.

You must have said that out loud, because his eyes immediately snap back up to yours, looking the slightest bit guilty.

"What are you doing here?" He snaps.

"I was trying to find a bathroom," you say and point to the room around you. "Success."

"Why did you come in here?"

"As I said, I was trying to find a bathroom," you repeat.

"Maybe you should have knocked before barging in here," he suggest.

"Maybe you should lock the goddamn door when you take a shower," you snap.

He lowers his head a bit. "This is my goddamn house and I wi-."

"Joel?" Tommy's voice resounds from the hallway. His steps are getting closer.

Joel's eyes widen and he shoots you a glare promising death upon disobedience. When you're about to say something, he lifts his hand and covers your mouth. The motion makes you both hold still. His eyes dart from yours to his palm on your lips and back. He exhales slowly. Without you noticing, he has moved closer to the sink, his body now almost aligned with yours. The pressure of his palm is firm but soft, his fingers warm and his thumb hooked under your chin slightly moving over your skin.

"Are you in here?" Tommy calls.

Joel snaps back into motion and turns his head toward the door. "I'll be out in a sec."

"Oh okay," Tommy says behind the door. "Can you maybe get a couple more towels when you get down?"

"Sure," Joel's voice comes out a little harsh, but you both hear Tommy's steps fading.

His hand is still resting on your mouth, when he turns his head back toward you. As if burned, he immediately pulls it away.

"Are you keeping me a secret, Mr. Miller?" You say and grin.

"That is not funny," he says. "I wouldn't even know how to explain that to Tommy."

"Do you trust him that little?"

"People jump to conclusions," he says.

"I've never cared about where other people jump," you say.

Joel's mouth twitches slightly. "I thought so."

You shrug. "People slip and get into accidents all the time. No big deal."

"So you regularly have these interactions with your superiors?" Joel asks mockingly.

"Will it make you happy if I tell you that you're the first, Mr. Miller?"

"Watch it, sweetheart," he growls. "I ain't up for that shit in my house."

He takes a quick glance down your body as if reminding himself of something and steps away from you. "And don't call me Mr. Miller when you're sitting on my bathroom sink barely dressed."

"If you prefer Chief, just say so." You put your palms on the counter and push yourself off, sliding down, until your feet hit the cold tile. "And the last time I checked, this was a pool party, so I will remind you that my attire is perfectly reasonable."

"If you think that thing is reasonable then you gotta watch a lot more than just your tone," he rumbles and crosses his arms. His chest flexes slightly and the image of him in his towel will probably be ingrained in your mind until you take your last breath.

"So you keep telling me," you say.

"Maybe you should start to listen," he replies.

"Maybe you should put on some pants before we're having that argument again," you suggest and mirror his movement, crossing your arms. "You know, to keep things professional."

"Maybe you should do the same," he retorts.

"What?" You say, looking down at your bikini. "You don't like red?"

He averts his eyes. "I really need you to put on your clothes."

You grab your bag. "This might be your house, Miller, but I'm not following orders on a holiday."

"Put on your goddamn clothes," he repeats in a threateningly low voice.

"No." You shake your head curtly. "And you can't make me."

His eyes lower themselves to yours and his mouth morphs into a wicked grin. "You'd be surprised at what I can make you do."

"Probably not." You shoot him the same grin back, make your way to the door and grab the handle. The door opens with a click and you catch his glance. "But I sure do like to see you try."

--------- 1 hour later ---------

Tommy has been busy at the grill, bringing out steaks and veggies to everyone. You're sitting at a table with Tommy's friends Dan and Ray as well as Casey and his friend Marie. Ray is big on musicals, so you're all still talking about the Wicked, when Joel steps out the backdoor of the house. His hair is dry and a little puffy. He is wearing a dark green button down, which seems way too warm for this kind of weather. His gaze rakes across the garden and surely directly lands on you. Without hesitation he begins to walk across the grass toward your table. He looks full of conviction. Let's see how long that will hold up.

"I told you it was Oscar worthy," Ray says to Casey, "She trained years to sing this way. Glinda has always been her dream role."

"Sure, sure," Casey agrees. "I just think she wouldn't have been as good without Cynthia. She basically carried the movie."

Until the last possible moment, you think Joel might walk past, but he takes a halt at the table, looks around it and pulls the empty chair, right next to yours to sit down. You look up at him, but he's watching Casey and Ray continue talking. His proximity makes you uneasy - as if you hadn't just had your hands on his chest moments ago. You can't get it out of your head. The way his body felt pressed to yours, the grip of his arms around your hips. You wish you had never felt it in the first place. Right?

"What do you think, Joel?" Ray turns to him and watches him expectantly.

"'bout what?" He asks.

"Do you think Ariana should have gotten the Oscar for her Glinda?" Ray explains and you frown at Joel. As if he had actually seen the movie.

"Don't know 'bout her," Joel shrugs. "But the green one definitely should have gotten one."

"Elphaba," Casey corrects and adds: "That's what I've been saying this whole time."

"You've seen Wicked?" You look at Joel in surprise.

He doesn't turn toward you, but Ray nods. "Oh yes, we do a movie night every first Friday of the month, when Joel doesn't have the night shift."

You can't help but grin, imagining Joel at the movies watching Wicked with a sobbing group of friends and your brother, who has always been easy to bring to tears ever since he was a kid.

"We love musicals," Ray says. "But my personal favourite is definitely Cabaret."

"What's your favourite?" You tease and finally Joel turns his head and lays his molten eyes on you.

He stills for a moment and then says: "The Sound of Music."

"Really?" You say.

He shrugs and without any hesitation, as if it were the most normal thing to do, lifts his arm and drapes it on the top of your chair, directly behind your back. "Maybe I just like women with an attitude and hate Nazis."

There's a rattle in your chest that makes you lean back a little into him. As if a skittish bird had just awaken from a clap in the distance. His arm at your back feels like a thousand matches scraping against a matchbox.

"Don't we all?" Ray claps his hands and gets into a conversation with the rest of the table about their plans for the rest of summer. Casey's eyes flick to Joel for a split second and his eyebrows narrow almost unnoticeable, but he just turns back to Ray.

"By the way," Dan says. "The garden looks lovely, Joel."

"Thanks," he says, a little hint of red appearing at the base of his neck. "I'm glad you like it."

He leans back into his chair and observes the conversation.

"The city has agreed to everything you suggested in your report," Joel suddenly mumbles and turns to you.

"I know," You nod. "Daniel told me."

"You know he didn't give you any credit, right?"

"Oh I knew that," you say. "I didn't do it because I wanted to get credit for it."

Joel's frown deepens. "Why did you do it then?"

You lower your eyes. "Because he said it was important to you."

Joel's head reels back slightly as if you had just said something offensive. He huffs out a breath and clears his throat.

After a few seconds of silence, he says: "How did you do that?"

"Do what?" You ask, meeting his gaze.

"Convince them," he says. "I've been trying to get them to sign off on these things for weeks."

"Well, it's sort of what I went to school for."

He shakes his head. "I've met a lot of lawyers and I don't think you can learn that shit in school."

"It's just about finding out what they need," you explain.

"Need? Like motivation?"

"No," you say. "It's not about what drives them. Ambition is too obvious and most people can easily see if you are just trying to appeal to that. It's more about what they desire when no one is watching."

"So like lust?" He mumbles only for you to hear. His eyes lazily graze over your mouth.

You shake your head slightly. "Not everything is about sexual desire. Most people don't actually care as much about that as one would think. It's much more about a specific feeling they crave that comes with receiving something you hadn't realised you needed in the first place."

"And how do you find out what that is?" His eyes are still stuck to your now parted lips. Dark. Waiting. Expecting.

"You look very closely and wait," you say. "People are too impatient. They don't see what's directly in front of them."

Joel furrows his brows but stays silent.

"You know like their incentive. That could be power, attention, acceptance?"

"Go on," he says.

"You create this idea in them that the thing you want them to do is actually going to satisfy that need. Almost as if you're not actually convincing them at all, they're doing it for you."

A slight breeze catches his hair and unlocks a strand that dances on his forehead.

"Everyone wants to do the right thing," you say. "You just need to assure them what the right thing actually ist."

"Do me," Joel mumbles, his voice is low.

Your eyebrows shoot up. "Sorry?"

"How would you manipulate me?" He asks, a glint of mocking in the corner of his eyes. "Or is my soul of stone to hard to read?"

"I've watched you, Mr. Miller," you say. "And a lack of emotion is not something you suffer from."

"You've been watching me?" The corner of his mouth twitches.

"Of course I have," you say. "It's my job to shadow you, is it not?"

You lean back and the hem of your dress slowly falls back, revealing a glimpse of your upper thigh. Joel's jaw ticks, as he takes in your bare skin. His fingers on your chair twitch and softly touch the back of your shoulder just to immediately clench into a fist.

"And what have you found out?"

"That you're no exception," you say. "You also just want to do the right thing. Like a good chief of police."

"And the right thing is doing what you want?"

"It's not about what I want," you say.

"What is it then?" He asks and leans in.

"Huh?" You reply and catch yourself raising your chin to meet his face. The conversation at the table has completely drowned out. You hear nothing but the sound of his breath on your face and feel only his arm pressing against your back. You wonder what it feels to be touched by him with intent, not just by accident. Would he move differently? Or do his hands find their way just as easily?

"What is it that you want?" Joel drawls.

"Are you trying to manipulate me?" You asks, wearily.

"I'm trying to understand you," He says.

"For what?"

"So I can figure out why your mouth seems to never match the story your eyes are telling."

When you sort the last report into the file and place them on the rookie's desk, you let out a big sigh. Finished. And it is not even eight o'clock. What a win. Almost everyone is already gone for the night and as you gather your jacket out of the little cubicle Lori assigned you on your first day, Daniel calls out from behind you.

"Still here?"

"Justice never sleeps,” you joke and pull on your jacket.

He grins, "I feel like this is something I should say."

His smile is handsome, attractive even. His uniform is very well fitted and you can tell that he probably works out regularly. Does seem like a guy who drinks an insane amount of protein shakes and doesn't do caffeine though.

You shrug and grab your bag. "You can use it, I won't tell."

Another laugh and you brush past him toward the door. If you’re quick you’ll catch them right when they’ve already had a drink or two. Alcohol makes for lose tongues and quick tempers, equaling lots of fun.

“You need a ride?” Daniel asks.

You shake your head. "I'm good, but thanks."

Before you turn around again, Daniel takes a step toward you. "It's no problem, really. I'm just finishing up myself."

"Actually," you reply. "I'm just on my way down to Mickey's."

His eyebrows lift up. "Oh no way, I was just heading over there myself."

That's probably a lie and you can tell by the way he so desperately wants to seem nonchalant, but you don't care and would rather take the 10 minute drive than walk for 30 in this heat.

"Oh, what a coincidence," you say and can't help the slight sarcastic undertone. You like Daniel, just as much as the next girl likes a nice guy. He has had you work on some reports he had to write and let you draft up a proposal to the city for some funding allocations last week that you actually put a lot of work into. But you can't shake the feeling that he seems like the kind of guy to take credit for other people's work.

"Yeah," he says and smiles easily. "Funny."

"I just need to change really quick, is that okay?"

Daniel nods, "Of course, take your time."

You quickly change into some jeans and a white tee in the women's changing rooms.

Out in the station's parking lot he opens the door for you. Daniel drives a BMW, which does seem like quite a fancy car for a police officer. "You like the car?" He asks.

You can't help but chuckle slightly at his eager tone. You don't really care for cars, but reply, "Sure."

Daniel starts the engine and you smoothly glide out of the parking lot and the buildings rush past you on the side of the street. You lean back into the seat a little and close your eyes for a second, letting the work day fall away.

"Have you been settling in nicely?" Daniel breaks the sweet silence between you two.

You turn your head to face him and say, "You do know that this is my hometown, right?"

He laughs as if you had made a joke. "Oh sure, sure, I just meant with the station and all."

"It's a lot of work," you reply honestly. "I just wish I could see some operations, some action, you know?"

"Right," Daniel replies. "The chief likes you in the back office, huh?"

"I don't think the chief likes me to do anything," you say a little too snappy.

Daniel grins. "He isn't the most accommodating person here, let's be real."

When you say nothing, he adds, "But not everybody is like that. I really appreciate all the stuff you've been helping me out with. Your report was really good, by the way. Maybe I can take you out on a ride that's not too dangerous some time."

"Sounds good," you say. "I'm glad I could help."

"It actually went pretty well, the city agreed to all the terms you suggested. You're really good at this."

You laugh. "Maybe they're just easily convinced."

Right when you pull up into the parking lot at Mickey's, Daniel says, "I bet you can be pretty irresistible, huh?"

You know how this goes and are not in the mood for a "I'm just a nice guy trying to be nice" kind of conversation and just ignore the comment. He pulls into a spot in front of the entrance and you can't make out your brother's truck anywhere. Maybe you've mixed up the days?

When you step into the bar, the first couple of notes of Two Dozen Roses fills the air and your ears immediately. You've always liked it here, even though as a teenager you never used to drink go. Mickey's seemed more like a bar for dads and older brother's who didn't like to talk or listen to anything other than country. And as a 19 year old all you want to do is talk and listen to anything but country. You can tell Daniel is somewhere behind you, rambling about something.

"I'll go get us a drink," Daniel says and puts one hand softly on your back faster than you can react and struts off to the bar.

You take a look around and see the usual crowd hanging around the bar and the little dance floor. But just as ocean calls to the shore, you can sense his eyes on you even before you spot him a couple of tables further in the back. He is sitting facing the entrance, like a good chief of police should, in between his brother Tommy and some guy you haven't seen before. You spot your brother with his back turned toward you, his shoulders shaking with laughter.

"You should've thought of that before you invited him to join, Tommy," Casey says between laughs.

Joel Miller hasn't stopped looking at you this whole time you're standing in the middle of the room. His eyes are like honey stuck to a spoon, lazily clinging to every bit of you. The chief also has changed out of his usual white shirt and tie and is wearing a dark green flannel that stretches over his chest the moment he leans back into his chair, taking a sip of his drink. The ice cubes slide toward his mouth and the thought of the warmth of his lips melting the ice with each sip hits you like a curveball. For some reason, inexplicable to you, it makes your stomach tighten. Okay, that's a lie. You can admit, perfectly indifferent, of course that Joel Miller is .. not hard to look at. His dark eyes are still on you. Taunting. As if he's reading your mind, he raises his right eyebrow and you can't help but make your way over, as if he's got some gravitational pull forcing you to submit. Calling something inside of you that you hadn't realised was there.

"Well well well," Tommy says loudly. "Who do we have here? Isn't it the future attorney general?"

You can't help but smile at Tommy, who gets up immediately, moving around the table to engulf you in a tight hug. He is the friendliest man you've ever met and you're happy your brother chose someone so lovely to build a business with. Casey turns his head and grins.

"Off before midnight?" Casey asks mockingly. "What's gotten into you?"

"Midnight?" Tommy barks. "What have you been making her do, Joel?"

All eyes turn to him and he doesn't even flinch, just looks at his brother and says, "Nothing she can't handle."

Your eyes meet for a split second and then he glances at his brother again.

"This sounds like a case of employee exploitation, if you ask me," Tommy says.

"Nobody did," Joel replies gruffly and gets up from his seat.

"Hey," Tommy turns to me. "You want a drink?"

Just in time, Daniel materialises behind us, two bottles in his hands. "Hey, guys."

Casey turns toward the table again, mumbling something that did sound quite a lot like hell nah. It takes a second before Tommy's furrowed brows ease up and he smiles. "You brought the little Sheriff?"

"Who?" You ask, confused.

Tommy points to Daniel, whispering in my ear. "His dad is the Sheriff."

"Oh," you say. "I didn't know."

Tommy nods and takes the beer out of Daniel's hand. "Thanks bud, you play poker?"

Daniel looks as if he might protest but then remains silent and nods his head.

"You can join if you want," Tommy suggests and elicits a muffled groan by Casey and the other guy. "I think Joel has stripped us of enough money tonight."

"Yeah, sure," Daniel nods eagerly. "I just need to call my Dad to let him know I won't make it to dinner."

Joel huffs and grabs his glass from table. You take a step back and let Daniel slip into Tommy's seat, while Tommy mumbles something into his brothers ears and pats him on the back. Joel turns around and heads for the bar. You watch him go and then watch them play for a bit. You've played enough poker with your dad that you realise they're all trying hard not to make Daniel look like an idiot, who continuously makes every possible mistake.

"I'll be right back," you say to Casey and make your way to the bar, turning left toward the restrooms. Behind a cherry red door leads a narrow hallway. You open the heavy door and after having stepped inside for a couple of steps, collide with the broad chest dressed in a dark green flannel button down.

"Didn't I tell you to be more careful?" His voice is calm and has the tiniest bit of bite to it.

"I probably wasn't listening," you reply.

"Why did you bring your puppy?" He says.

"My what?" You say and then realise who he is talking about. "Oh, Daniel just gave me a ride from work."

"Since when do you dress for work like this?" Joel's eyes graze down your body in a calculated measure. You think you must imagine the way his eyes darken when they roam over your white shirt. And you can't help but cross your arms under his scrutiny, feeling like it's burning through you.

"You know there are changing rooms at the station and you would know what I had been wearing to work if you would ever bother to show up yourself."

Now it is his time to cross his arms defensively. "I've been busy."

"With what?" You press.

"With shit that is none of your concern," he replies roughly.

"So it is only my concern, when you need someone to do your shitty paperwork?"

"You wanted to see how the real world works," he says. "There you go."

"Daniel at least lets me do some actual work and not just digitalise files from the 70s," you say.

"I knew he did not fucking write that report," Joel mumbles more to himself than you. "He shouldn't have done that."

"I enjoyed writing it."

"I don't care if it made your little lawyer heart race," he says. "It was Riley's job and he didn't do it."

"It got done, didn't it?" You say.

"That's not the point," Joel says sharply. "He had a direct order and he disobeyed it. It's not your job to do his work. I assigned him that task to make him familiarise himself with the issues our station is facing."

You stay silent and Joel clears his throat.

"Never mind, he'll hear the end of this."

"I didn't realise I was disobeying your order," You say.

Joel furrows his brows. "You weren't."

"You sure?"

"Believe me," he replies. "If you were disobeying my orders, you would know."

His gaze is lowered down to you and you feel your body tensing.

You let your arms fall to your sides and slightly lean forward. "Remind me to never disobey your orders then."

"Following orders does not seem like your strong suit." His face remains impassive.

You grin slightly and focus on his face. It would only take one small step to close the distance between you two. Not even a second.

Once again his eyes have turned to molten chocolate and you can't help but watch their specks of gold catch the dim light. He looks like he hasn't shaved is beard in a couple of days and you wonder what his stubble feels like scraping against your neck. The sudden thought surprises you. How would it feel to be pressed against his front with his arm around you and his tongue on your neck? The sudden image of it runs on a loop inside of your head, when Joel interrupts, "Casey can't drive you home. He's been drinking."

The change of subject confuses you for a second, as if you both were watching the same movie but he switched the channel.

"I know," you say. "But I'm staying a bit later anyways."

"You need to call your daddy first, too?" Joel asks, raising his eyebrow. And you know he cannot not like this, enjoy this understanding between the two of you.

"Which one?" You retort and he isn't quick enough at hiding his surprise.

He grunts and leans the slightest bit toward you. "Why do I feel like a broken record when I tell you to watch your goddamn tone."

"Maybe you should ask nicely," you say.

"That is not something you should say to your boss, sweetheart" Joel says.

"As I am officially clocked out and due to you not carrying your badge or your gun it is safe for me to assume you are off duty. So technically, you're not acting as my boss right now, sir."

"Just because you can't see it, does not mean it isn't there," Joel says and you raise your eyebrows.

"A grower not a shower, huh?"

Joel's eyes narrow. "You need to watch it, Darlin'."

He turns his body, forcing you to do the same, so your back is pressed against the wall of the hallway. You're trying to concentrate on his words but his smell makes its way up your nose and seems to cloud your brain. He is so close that you can feel his hot breath on your skin, laced with a hint of whiskey. You thought it would be much easier to navigate this conversation but now it seems almost redundant and you slowly forget why you wanted to talk in the first place.

He raises his arm and places one hand next to your head. "Has anyone ever told you that you're a piece of work?"

Your chin raises slightly in defiance. "You're not the first one who has given me such a compliment."

Joel's jeans touch your bare legs and if he wanted to he could flush your bodies by the push of his hips. He is towering over you, his eyes looking like they're looking for something on your face, they haven't been able to find yet. And you feel like telling him you want him to never stop searching for it. You hear the first couple of notes of Chris Stapelton's "You Should Probably Leave" resound from the bar, as he lifts his other hand slowly as if not to startle you.

When his large hand has almost touched your hip, he says, "Let's see if I'll be the la-"

The door to the bar opens and Joel immediately yanks his hands away and puts two step between you.

Daniel appears in the doorway and his eyes widen in surprise. "Oh, there you are."

"Here I am," you say, trying to sound relaxed. Probably failing. What the fuck was that just now?

"I was just gonna say that your brother just headed out over to Tommy's house for more drinks and I need to go to my dad's house to pick some stuff up," he says.

It takes you a second to figure out that he is waiting for you to relieve him of the duty to give you a ride home.

"No worries, I'll just get an Uber," you say exactly at the same time Joel says, "I'll take her."

You turn around and glare at him. "That won't be necessary."

"Awesome," Daniel exclaims. "Thanks, Chief. See you tomorrow."

And with that he steps back into the bar, leaving you standing there with Joel.

"I can just get an Uber, it's no big deal."

"I'm taking you home and it's not a topic of discussion, so you can shut it," he says and starts walking toward the door. You follow his steps quickly.

"I am an adult, I can get home by myself," you protest.

"Do you even know how many women get kidnapped or assaulted by their driver?"

"This isn't New York, Miller," you say. "We are in Texas."

"What do you think I'm doing at my job?" Joel says and opens the bar entrance door for you to walk through. "Cutting ribbons and issuing speeding tickets?"

"Something like that," you say and stop in front of his truck.

"Why do you think we established our office hours for women?" He looks at you as if he's actually waiting for a response, but you know he isn't. "People are dangerous and it is my job to protect you."

"I don't need protection," you snap and add, "From you."

"You might not need it," Joel says, opening the passenger door. "But you sure as hell will get it. Now get in the truck."

You don't attempt to make a move and he shifts his weight.

"It might make it easier," Joel warns. "But I don't need a badge nor gun to make you get into this truck, Darlin'."

"I'd love to see you try," you press and almost see a grin appear on Joel's face.

"I ain't above throwing you over my shoulder."

"Is that supposed to make me feel scared?"

He stoically remains next to the passenger door and just watches you. "Just get in the goddamn car, will ya?" Once again is voice is pure cool ice and it impresses you how he can say something so decisively, leaving no room for disobedience.

You sigh and walk toward him, stepping onto the side step of his truck. Now you're at his eye level and without thinking, your head moves to the side, hovering directly in front of his. A strand of hair has fallen from his head into his eyes and you feel the urge to push it back. The urge to run your fingers through his hair hasn't faded ever since that moment in the archives. When his eyes lower themselves and cling to your lips, you can't help but release a soft breath. His jaw clenches almost imperceptibly, but he slowly steps out of the door and moves to the side for you to sit down.

You wait for him to shut the door but it doesn't happen. Instead you suddenly feel that familiar breath on the side of your neck, dancing down your neckline. Goosebumps give away your receptiveness to his warmth, but you can't turn your head, you can't risk to look.

Joel has one arm propped on the car, one is holding the door. His shirt is pulled across his chest, revealing a slither of his tanned skin. You inhale shakily, when he whispers only for you to hear.

„So you really think this is all going to work out?“

Your brother Casey groans and changes lanes to take the exit. „I told you before and I will tell you again: Tommy said that he’s totally cool with it.“

„I don’t trust it. From what you’ve told me I don’t picture him as a guy who says he’s cool with it“, you reply and look at the trees passing my. Summer is here in its entirety and apart from the gentle cooling breeze rushing in through the cracked passenger seat window, the lingering heat hasn’t lifted for days. You watch your brother shake his head as he slows down at a red light and glances your way. That is what you get for staying in your hometown for the summer in a city without any public transport - relying on your older brother for a ride to work.

„Once you get to know him he’s actually pretty laid back“, he says.

„You literally told me a few weeks ago that you haven’t met anyone who is more of a control freak“, you say.

„I did not call him a control freak, I just said that he likes to be in control and does not take kindly to people distrusting that. He just likes things to be a certain way. Can’t blame him when he’s got all the responsibility." Casey shrugs, changing the radio station to country music.

„He’s a police officer”, you say. “Not the president.”

“He’s the chief of police”, your brother corrects and pulls up in front of a cream coloured building. A huge stone sign graces its front facing wall. Police Department. “Maybe you should dial down the judgy tone.”

You scoff. “I wasn’t being judgmental. I’m just trying to figure out in what kind of lions den you’re sending me.”

He grins. “Just remember that you were the one who wanted to “gain experience in the real world.” He emphasizes his quotation with his fingers. “I told you to spend the summer lying by the pool and reading your fantasy novels or whatever weird shit you’re currently obsessing over.”

You can't help but roll your eyes and unbuckle your seatbelt. "I'll try to keep the attitude to a minimum."

"Just give him a bit of time to warm up to you."

You let out a theatrical gaps. "Am I not a delight to meet brother dearest?"

Now it is Casey's turn to role his eyes. "Just don't embarrass me. The older Miller is already creepily good at mind games while playing poker and I don't need him to gain more leverage on me."

After stepping out of the car, you turn around and Casey rolls the window down further. "Thanks for the ride. Feels just like high school."

"Don't get used to it. I'll be on the site with Tommy until about five and then head over to Mickey's for a drink if you want a ride back."

"Sure", you nod. "I'll text you when I'm out."

Casey pulls out of the parking lot and you give a little wave as he turns the corner and drives out of sight. You exhale a deep breath you didn't know you were holding and turn around, facing the entrance. From what you have heard about the oldest Miller brother, you are not entirely convinced that this will be a smooth ride. Grumpy, demanding, ruthless, closed-off and moody are only a couple of words Casey used to describe Joel Miller. And even though you've known Tommy since he and your brother opened their contractor business, you have never laid eyes on his big brother before. The front entrance door swings open and rips you out of your thoughts. A woman, probably in her mid 50s, steps out of the building, looking at you and then around the almost empty parking lot. She frowns for a moment and then her eyes dart back to you.

"Are you okay there, honey?" Her voice is soft and low, sounding familiar even though you've never seen her before.

You nod eagerly. "Yes, sorry, I was just about to go in."

"Do you need another minute or are you ready?"

Taking the last couple of steps toward the entrance you grab the door she is holding open with her extended arm. "Ready."

"Is this your first time?" She asks me.

"Yes, actually", you reply.

"How are you feeling on a scale of one to 10, one being the worst?"

Well, that is unusual.

"I guess.. a good 8?"

"Great", she smiles and turns around, walking toward a desk in the entrance of the police station. "Here are the forms, if you need anything just let me know, I will be right over there and especially if you need any medical attention. Do you need medical attention?"

You shake your head quickly. "No..no, of course not. Why would I need medical attention?"

She hands me a clipboard with forms attached to it and a gel pen. "It is just protocol to ask, you know. But I am glad you're feeling well."

You sit down and glance at the files. This looks like a lot of personal questions for a summer job. Scanning the forms a couple of times, you get up towards the desk, just as the entrance door opens behind you.

"I'm sorry to bother you again, but I am not quite sure why exactly I need to fill this out? I thought I had already sent my CV over a week ago."

"Your CV? Why would we need your CV?"

"Everything good, Lori?" A voice from behind you resounds and you turn around. A guy in dark blue police uniform and a blonde buzzcut stands a couple of steps behind you and smiles.

Lori reciprocates the smile and rises from her seat. "Oh yes, Daniel. This woman is just filling out the assault report."

Your eyes widen in surprise. "A what? No, I am not filling that out."

She winks at you. "Sure, you are not."

"I think there's been a mistake. I am here for the summer job. Tommy Miller sent me."

Lori frowns and thankfully Daniel steps forward and offers you his hand. "You're Casey's sister, right?"

You exhale gratefully and take his hand. "Yes, I am."

"I'm Daniel Riley", he says and you introduce yourself.

Daniel shakes your hand, while looking over at Lori. "This is who the chief was talking about the other day."

Lori's face tenses. "Oh I am so sorry, dear. I thought you were here for our weekly office hours for women in need."

You give her a smile and wave it off. "No worries."

"Do you want me to call the chief?" She asks Daniel.

He shakes his head. "No need, I'll just give her the tour."

Lori nods and looks to you. "Well, if you need anything, I am right here up front."

"Thanks", you say and follow Daniel through the hallway leading further into the station.

He introduces you to the two officers in the kitchen having coffee and leads you through the whole floor, explaining how everything works. "You know we all thought you were Tommy's girlfriend, you know?"

"Why? Because he put in a good word?"

"More so because the chief acted like he was agreeing to taking a bullet to the chest for letting you work here for the summer", Daniel replies and chuckles.

"That sounds reassuring", you huff.

"So not Tommy's girlfriend?"

You shake your head. "No, just the sister of a very convincing brother."

"Good to know." Daniel grins. "Have you talked to the chief about your tasks yet?"

"Not yet, no", you say, walking beside him toward the back of the station.

"Well, maybe he is out or something. But he usually will show himself at the staff meeting at around 11. Until then, maybe you can help me out a bit?" His green eyes shimmer faintly in the fluorescent office light.

"Sure, what do you need?"

He opens the door to a dark room and turns on the light. Rows of shelves filled with boxes fill up the room and the room is so badly lit and stuffy that you have to squint your eyes to make out the size of it.

"This is the archive", Daniel explains rather redundantly. "I need a couple of files for a case I am working on. Do you mind getting them out and over to my desk?"

"I can do that."

"Great", he says. "I need every robbery case from 1979 to 1981 that you can find okay?"

"I'll have them right over," you say and step into the room, leaving Daniel behind you.

The room's smell reminds you of your school's old gym basement, where they used to store all the old equipment. You walk further among the shelves and try to make out the labels. Thank god, they are labeled by years, so you quickly can find 1980 and 1981. But even after having checked every shelf, you cannot find 1979. Just when you're about to asks for help, you find yourself in front of a filing cabinet towering over you and on top the missing box. Perfect. You rise on your tiptoes and stretch your arms as high as possible, only reaching the bottom of the box. Slowly, you try to move it toward you without catching dust and dirt in your eyes. The box is heavier than the other ones and it takes a while for you to move it almost over the edge. When it's just about to tip over, the door behind you slams shut.

"Hey Daniel, can you give me a hand with this one?" You asks him and the footsteps are closing in on you. You try to turn your head to take a glance at what's behind you, but the box of files tips toward you. You manage to whisper a breathy oh no, when not only the box, but the whole locker tilts and falls toward you. You flinch and try to step out of danger zone, when suddenly you are slammed against the file cabinet by something hard. Your body is locked in between whatever pushed you against the locker and the door itself, still leaning dangerously close to you, but not falling. Whatever is pressed against your back is effectively caging you in. It feels heavy and ..warm.

"Can I help you?" You asks tentatively.

"That's what I am trying to do here." The voice is low and not much more than a growl as it sounds right next to your ear. Definitely not Daniel. The man's breath trailing down the side of your throat, warming the spot between neck and your shoulder. You suppress a shiver that's just waiting to pass over your back.

"If you could just move, I can get out", you suggest and the man huffs.

"If I move, this cabinet will fall and take you down with it, Darlin'."

You move your head as much as you can and look up above you just to realise that the cabinet and with it the box of files is only being held up by two thick arms in a white dress shirt. "Oh."

"I need you to get on your knees", he says and your body tenses. What?

"Excuse me?"

He groans. "Just get on your knees and crawl, damn it."

"I don't know what your deal is, but if you keep this up you will get to know mine", you reply and your threat earns nothing but a low chuckle that dies as quick as it started.

"If you don't get out from underneath, I can't let that damned thing go. So just get on your goddamn knees and move. I can't hold it much longer."

"Famous last words", you say and try to lower yourself to your knees. The locker is so close that you cannot exactly move away from the guy behind you, so you need to slide down while pressed against him.

You bend your knees and slide your back down his front, slowly toward the floor, trying not to lose your balance. His whole body goes rigid and you are sure you imagine the quick release of a held breath once your knees make contact with the floor. You turn around and crawl out from underneath the locker, past the man's shoes. Just as you rise to your feet, a loud crash announces the final fall of the cabinet. The man's broad back is still turned to you, when the door opens and Daniel steps in.

"What on earth is going on here?" He calls.

The man turns around, illuminated by the streams of light coming in from the open door and finally you can take a good look at him. He is wearing a loosened grey tie over his white shirt and beige slacks. Except for a rogue one dangling on his forehead, his dark brown curls are neatly slicked back. The urge to run your hands through them arises, making you wonder. Maybe it's just the dimly lit room but he's got the darkest eyes you've ever seen. And these eyes are staring right at you, fixating on your face with an impression that you can't quite place. He doesn't even waste a glance at Daniel.

"Leave us", he says slowly.

A frown appears on Daniel's forehead. "Can I do anything?"

"Just shut the goddamn door, Riley," he says without any room for discussion. And when Daniel takes a step further inside he continues: "Behind you."

Daniel just huffs out a breath and closes the door behind him. The silence following his retreat is deafening. No one says anything for a whole minute, just the sound of his and my breathing filling the air.

"You're late", he finally says.

"I got held up filling out the assault forms", you reply.

The ever-present frown on his face deepens. "Why were you filling out the assault forms?"

"They thought I was looking for help", you say. "But I'm here now."

"You don't think you need to be on time?" He replies.

"I got here at 9," you say.

"Shift starts at 7:30", he states.

"Well, no one told me that."

"Did you ask?"

What is this guys deal? The outside apparently does not match the inside.

"No, I did not", you say, crossing your arms. "I assumed the department would inform me."

"Do you always assume that things are just being handed to you?" His eyes narrow slightly.

"Are you implying that I don't work for what I've earned?"

"I'm saying that you came here unprepared", he says.

"I'm not sure how well I should have prepared to be able to look through boxed files, but you're right, maybe I should have practiced dates a little before coming here or brought my stepping stool for reaching higher places so I don't get killed by a freaking cabinet on the first day."

"Are you mocking important data work?"

"No, I'm just mocking you", you say and lift your chin a little to glare right back at him.

"Rich coming from someone whose life I just saved", he says.

"If you hadn't pushed me, I could have just stepped out of the way."

"Just say thank you, it isn't that hard", he drawls.

"Do you need me to get on my knees for that too?" You snap and your eyes flicker to the muscle in his jaw twitching.

His eyes go impossibly dark and without breaking your glance, he closes the distance between you two, forcing you to lift your head to look up at him. This close you can make out the tiny golden spots that surround his irises and the soft grey streaks that run through his longer than a 5 o'clock shadow on his chin. His eyes graze quickly over your face, stopping ever so slightly on your parted lips. You can't help but wanting them to linger there.

"Careful now, Darlin'", he whispers. "Let's mind our manners."

His chest now faintly grazes your crossed arms and you can make out a hint of his smell, reminding you of a sunset on the porch after a lake day, tranquil, woodsy and so familiar it hurts.

"You're right, I'm sorry - do you need me to get on my knees for that too, sir?"

His jaw tenses and you can almost see the anger building up in his eyes. But you can't help it, you're enjoying pushing him just to see his control falter the slightest bit. He's might be an asshole, but he still makes you want to see what his face looks like on top of yo-

"I advise you to watch that mouth of yours or the only thing you'll be seeing in the future is the outside of this building, do you understand?" He says, not as calmly as before.

"We'll see what the chief has to say about that", you say and hope to whichever god might listen that the eldest Miller brother is even the tiniest bit as receptive to your charm as Tommy is.

The man in front of you lifts his eyebrows as if he has just now finally understood something. "Sure, let's see what he says."

You lean forward a tiny bit and press your arms against his broad chest. Just to annoy him and introduce yourself. "I'm Casey's sister by the way. Tommy's friend?"

The man smiles unnervingly sinister. "Oh, I know exactly who you are."

Another forceful knock on the door makes you leap a step back from him. "Sir?"

He rolls his eyes and calls back. "Yes?"

"We just got a call from the Sheriff's office, they need you on line 4", one of the officers says.

"I'll be right out", he says.

"Thank you, chief", she says and you hear her step away from the door.

Lord almighty, it can't be. No, no, hell no.

The realisation must be written all over your face because his mouth forms into the smallest grin.

"You are-

"Joel Miller, Chief of Police", he introduces himself.

You shake your head in disbelief. This can't be.

"And while you're .. adjusting, why don't you make yourself useful and tidy this up?" He points behind himself at the cabinet and the spilled files on the floor. "From what I've gathered you're probably used to cleaning up your messes."

With that he turns and brushes past me as if he had just stepped in to say 'hello', making his way to the door. Fucking sadist.

You can't even bring yourself to turn your head. Anger and embarrassment crawls all over your skin, rising up to your head. No one has made you feel this way in a long time. You run a hand through your hair and turn towards the files and documents covering the floor. He is even worse than what you've imagined. A shitty boss with an attitude? You've handled that before. But a boss with an attitude, a sharp mouth and a demand for power? That's new. The issue being that not only do you want him to suffer now, but you want to find out what exactly makes this man of stone lose his grip on the control that he so preciously protects.