Evelyn's dream of securing a scholarship to America's top ballet school shattered when her mother was brutally murdered during her teenage years. Determined to make a difference, she became a detective, ready to take on the world. Assigned to invest...
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The bikers had been restless ever since the stolen SUV rolled back onto their territory. A storm had moved through the air, thick and sharp, and it hadn't lifted since. Jax had told no one why the car mattered so much, but his obsession was impossible to hide. Ryker had nearly exploded when Jax jabbed him for updates while he tracked the vehicle, and Jax himself had nearly snapped in fury, as if even a breath too slow set his nerves on fire. Everyone knew it was Evelyn behind the wheel. What no one knew was why she had taken it. Jeremiah burned with the same question, but Jax shut him out. He only sat hunched at the computer, eyes locked on the blinking GPS dot, as if the screen itself might confess the truth. Jeremiah sight at the memorize of yesterday and left the dinner table, his boots tapping softly against the worn floorboards as he made his way back into the kitchen. The soup on the stove bubbled softly, releasing steam that clung to his skin. Jeremiah reached for a clean spoon, tasted, then tossed the spoon aside.
"A bit more salt," he muttered, his voice low and rough. He grabbed the shaker, gave it a quick shake, then whisked the pot with brisk, sharp strokes. As he turned back, a shadow slid across the corner of his eye.
"For God's sake," he growled more for himself then to her.
"Detective," he called, still facing the counter. He didn't need to turn around. He knew her presence like he knew the steady beat of his own heart. A soft sigh escaped her, the sound brushing the air like a secret. She had wanted to slip in unseen, to steal a privet moment, yet his words caught her in the act.
"Busted," Evelyn admitted, her voice colored with reluctant amusement. Her eyes followed the line of his back, wide and strong beneath the fabric of his shirt, and something fluttered low in her chest. Jeremiah turned then, his smirk slow, deliberate, and dangerous in its charm. A laugh rumbled from him, deep enough to vibrate in her stomach.
"Why all the sneaking?" he asked, stepping closer. The warmth of him carried forward with each stride.
"I was hoping to get some of that soup. The smell has been torturing me all day," she said, her lips curving into a smile tinged with something sweeter than mischief. He knew her hunger went deeper than soup, but he played along, enjoying the dance between them.
"Then you're lucky," he replied, reaching for the ladle.
"It's perfect now. If you want, we could sit down and eat together." Before she could protest, he had already poured steaming ladles into two bowls, setting them down with quiet finality. Evelyn hesitated only a breath before her resolve softened. Company, his company, sounded good.
"Why not," she said, and stepped forward to take the bowl from his hands. Her fingers brushed his, and the contact lingered just long enough to spark heat in her chest. She carried it to the table and lowered herself into a chair. The wood was cool under her legs, grounding her, even as the scent of herbs and slow-cooked broth curled around her senses. Jeremiah joined her, sliding into the seat opposite with his own bowl and two spoons. For a moment they ate in silence, steam rising between them like a living thing.
