Page 11 of H E R

I concentrate on my food and carefully cut into my sirloin bavette steak. My fork digs into the lusciously plump mountain of mashed potatoes and then I pick up a tender green bean with my fingers and bite into it. A pleased moan escapes me and I know I’m smiling like an idiot.

We’re all humming softly in delight until a deep, scratchy voice belonging to an older gentleman steals my attention. “Nikoletta Justice Fox?”

I turn slowly at the mention of my complete given name, food in my mouth and all. Everyone turns with me. I mean, who the hell knows myentirename? Besides, the only person who calls me by my first name is my brother.

Noah tenses and grows ten inches beside me. He’s the first to speak for the table and we all sit up straight. “Well, if it isn’t Officer Lloyd and hisshinynew sidekick. What do you want with Justice?”

Two cops stand near our table, already attracting some unwanted attention from the rich fuckers surrounding us. One of the two is the rookie I snapped a picture of, and instead of his detective uniform, he embodies another tonight.

The rookie appears as though he just clocked in for his shift as a grim reaper. Black from head to toe, black jeans, a black t-shirt, and a leather jacket.Fuck,he looks good. I’d lay down and let him carry me to hell if he showed up to deliver my death.

He shaved.The rookie’s hair is gone and in its place is a buzzed cut that makes his thick, dark brows stand out. His black eyes pierce me and my meal stays stuck somewhere in my food pipe. He frowns and his full lips part just a fraction, enough to make me squeeze my thighs together.

The older one, with what looks like a large pregnant beer gut, grinds his teeth. “It’sDetective, and this doesn’t concern you, Noah.”

“Like hell it doesn’t. What do you want with my girlfriend?”

Lloyd smirks and doesn’t seem at all taken aback by Noah’s declaration, but the rookie named Dylan furrows his brows further and leans in. Across from me, I see my brother sit straight up and square his shoulders.

“Aren’t you too old for her, Noah? Besides, all we want is to ask the little lady some questions.”

From my peripheral, I catch Noah’s jaw tightening and he’s about to speak, no doubt to correct the assumption of me being too young for him, when my brother blurts out, “Can’t you wait until we’re done eating? Have some respect.”

Lloyd takes a nonchalant glance at a clipboard he has in hand and then stares at my brother. “You must be Julius FoxJunior. Defending your little sister, are we?”

Jule suddenly grins. “Sure am.” He looks my way and winks. “What have you done now,little sister?”

Oh, for fuck’s sake. By this time, I manage to swallow, reach for my glass of Coke, and chug some of it down. Dylan leans toward me. “We heard you held a Tec9 in hand. Care to explain what that was about?”

“Big gun for such a small girl,” Lloyd adds.

I tense and look straight into Dylan’s big, dark eyes. They truly are something–large and expressive with gray, almost silvery slivers on the inner area of the darkest brown I’ve ever seen. I planned on joining them outside and my intentions were to fully cooperate until he smiles at his partner’s stupid joke and stands to stare me down with a superior look about him.

Jule points accusingly. “Who the fuck is this?”

“I’m Detective Montreal.”

I face my empty plate and reach for my drink again. “I have nothing to say to either of you.”

Officer Lloyd snorts. “Happy fifteenth, Justice.”

Jule laughs when they turn to leave and Dylan halts to stare at me with a befuddled look. Dumbasses messed up and twisted our ages. I just smile. Let them think what they want. I face Jasmin. Her shoulders are hunched like she wants to crawl underneath the table but recovers once the officers are out of sight.

“Do I really look fifteen?”

Jule chortles, almost spitting his drink out in front of him, but Jasmin shakes her head. “Not inthatoutfit you don’t. I think it’s your youthful face… it looks so…” she thinks, fingers groping her chin, “clean and refreshed?”

They all laugh. Her face looks fine, it isn’t filled with wrinkles. Were twenty-year-olds supposed to have any? Noah’s face is flawless, and no one takeshimfor a teen.

“You’re just so tiny, Nik. You’re barely five feet and you’re all,” Jule looks like he’s getting ready to squeeze into a cramped space, “itty-bitty.”

I look down at my body. I don’t consider myself thin. I barely fit into my mother’s dress due to my curvy figure. I have wide hips and a full chest. Noah suddenly loops an arm around my waist and brings me closer. His lips graze my cheek and then my earlobe, making my body tremble beneath his expert touch.

“You’re perfect.”

On instinct, I turn to meet his lips with mine. The sudden kiss intensifies into one of hunger. His hand, which he’d placed at the back of my neck, brings me closer and my fingers grip his jacket near his throat, pulling his face deeper into mine.

Jasmin clears her throat. “I guess they’re ready for dessert,” she whispers, and Jule pretends to gag.

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