Llewellyn at Sweets by Marissa. On Flower Tree. I need to report a break-in.”
“Are you in any danger, ma’am?”
“I don’t know. Please send someone quickly.” The operator was still talking when Marissa hung up the phone. She should have stayed on the line, but she needed both hands to swing the bat. She dropped the phone on the sofa. The police would hurry. The station was only a few blocks away.
The water in the bathroom shut off and she paused only a couple of feet from the door to her office. Her heart pounded heavily. A shadow danced over the threshold into the office as the intruder walked past it and back toward the kitchen. Marissa held her breath.
A moment later one of the kitchen stools squeaked.
She crept to the opened door and gave a quick peek. The after-hours lighting cast shadows throughout the back of the shop. She couldn’t see all the way into the belly of the kitchen, so she edged farther and farther out of her office. A tall, lanky man sat at the huge stainless steel table with books open in front of him. A discarded cupcake wrapper sat at his elbow. She shook her head. What the hell?
A siren sounded. The police had arrived. The man scrambled and shoved books into a backpack at his feet. He turned toward the back door and then froze when he saw her waving a bat at him.
She shifted the bat. “Don’t move.” It wasn’t a man—tall and lean, sure, but in the still-going-through-puberty way. “You’re a teenager! What are you doing in here?”
He looked like he wanted to bolt, but he stayed put. He was dressed like every other teenager in Oak Hollow, Texas. Baggy jeans hung from his skinny hips. His white T-shirt and open button-down plaid shirt looked tidy but worn. She didn’t know his name, but she’d seen him hanging around the shops.
“What are you doing here?” She eased a step closer to him.
The boy shrugged. There was no anger or menace coming off the kid. He looked more resigned than anything as he sighed and slumped his shoulders.
“I called the police,” she said, as if it wasn’t obvious enough with red and blue lights illuminating the front of the store. A heavy knock sounded. “Walk to the front.” She waggled the bat at him.
What if he wouldn’t? Fear tittered down her spine. He was a good head taller than she, well over six feet tall. He could easily overpower her and run out the back door. Luckily, the boy turned and headed to the front of the store. She flipped on the lights as she crossed through the kitchen behind him.
Once her eyes adjusted to the brightness, she motioned with the bat to one of the tall tables with three stools in the corner. “Sit.” He sat.
Another knock sounded, harder. “Oak Hollow police.”
A large man stood at the front door. He had on the Oak Hollow police uniform of dark slacks and shirt with a silver shield pinned to his chest and a tan Stetson hat. She glanced back over her shoulder. “Don’t even think about moving.” She finally let the bat fall to her side and dug in her pocket for the keys. The deadbolt was locked. How had the boy gotten in?
The police officer shifted when the door swung out. “Marissa Llewellyn?” When she nodded he continued, “Did you call about someone breaking and entering?”
Where had she heard that deep, raspy voice before?
“Ma’am?” He pushed the Stetson back farther on his head. A patch of reddish-brown hair fell over his forehead. “Did you call in?”
“Yes, officer—”
“Chief Carlisle,” he corrected her.
“Carlisle?” Her eyes widened. “Jax?” She took a step back and got a better look. He had to be well over six feet tall with the broadest shoulders she’d seen in a long time. He still had that dusting of freckles across his nose. He looked every bit as handsome and intimidating now as he had nearly twenty years earlier.
She’d gone to school with Jax Carlisle. He’d been two grades ahead of her, but everyone had known who he was. The captain of everything. Football, baseball, even the class president his senior year. The most popular guy at Oak Hollow High. Last she’d heard, he’d gone off to college and hadn’t come back since.
“You’re the new chief? Your mom must be…” She wanted to say pissed. Bunny Carlisle was nothing if not the epitome of upper-crust exclusivity. Her husband owned the country club across town and came from a long line of oilmen. Men who didn’t work for a living. “Does your mom know you’re the chief?”
He gave a quick nod and frowned at her. “Do I know you?”
“I doubt it.” She and Jax hadn’t run in any of the same circles. She hadn’t run in any circles. She’d done her best to blend into the walls once everyone hit puberty. She had escaped high school with nothing more than a horrible nickname. “I just can’t believe…” She shook herself, then waved him into the shop. “Sorry. I caught this young man—” She turned to the table where she’d left the teen. The seat was empty.
“Where’d he go?” She ran to the back of the store. The delivery door was closed but the empty crates next to it sat slightly askew.
Marissa stroked her hand through her bangs and turned to run smack-dab into Jax. “Sorry.” Damn, he was big. All hard muscles and sexy. She fought the urge to fan herself. He’d improved since high school. If that was even possible. Or fair.
“Stand back.” He pushed her behind him and drew his gun. He searched the stockroom, her office and the restroom. He came back to her side as he holstered his gun. “He’s gone.”
His comment almost pulled her from her hormone-laced assessment. Almost. She couldn’t stop staring. He would knock the wind out of someone with one lip-lock. Her nipples hardened under her T-shirt and thin bra. Rubbed uncomfortably as she shifted.
Marissa tore her gaze from Jax’s broad shoulders to find him staring at her breasts.
He cleared his throat. “Any signs of forced entry?”
She scrunched up her nose. “No.”
“Tell me what he looked like.” He removed a little notepad from his pocket.
Marissa described everything she could remember about the teen, right down to his bright backpack. “That’s all I can remember.” She shook her head and shrugged. “He…” She stifled a yawn and motioned for Jax to follow her back into the front of the shop. “He was here.” She walked over to the table. “I left him sitting right here.” She touched the tabletop.
“Did he hurt you?”
“Hurt me?” She shifted her gaze to her former classmate. “No.” She frowned. “I think he was doing his homework.”
“Homework? You called in a burglary.” He didn’t quite roll his eyes, but he might as well have. “Walk me through what happened.”
Marissa gave Jax—she couldn’t think of him as the new chief, not quite yet—a rundown of the recent break-ins to her shop, and why she’d stayed the night, up to when she found the young man sitting there.
Jax looked
