Page 31 of Bad Situation

Jen bends to reach for a water bottle off the floor and unscrews the lid. “I’m good, Jase. We still on for Monday?”

Jase?

Fucking Jase.

Jase gives me the same side-eye my mother used to hit me over the head for. “I’ll be here. Text if you decide you want to take in that band tonight. I’ve got an extra ticket.”

Jen gives him an apologetic smile. “Thanks, but maybe another time. It’s been a week.”

It sure fucking has.

It was just seven days ago I was doing surveillance on her at the bar and here I am thinking of all the ways I’d like to kick Jase’s ass. Not to mention, I just put a tracker on a fellow FBI agent’s car to figure out what the fuck is going on with her. Now I need to figure out how to get Jen to agree to my plans for tonight.

“Let me know if you change your mind,” Jase adds as he grabs his bag.

“She prefers staying in.” I cross my arms and move next to Jen. “Don’t you?”

She rolls her eyes. “Well, I met you in a bar, didn’t I? Or does that count? Maybe our first official meeting was when you showed up at my office unannounced.”

This time I frown. “We met at the bar. That’s all that matters.”

“Do you need me to stay?” Jase asks.

“No—” I start when Jen interrupts, “You can go. Eli and I got off on the wrong foot, that’s all.”

“No, we didn’t,” I argue. “It might’ve been unconventional but we’ve worked through it.”

Jen smirks and, when she bumps my arm with her shoulder, I wonder if this is a new side to her I’ve not seen before. She looks to Jase and doesn’t exactly lie. “He’s a stalker.”

Jase’s forehead crinkles. “What the fuck?”

Jen points to him with her water bottle. “That was my thought, exactly.”

I ignore Jase and look to Jen. “We need to speak. Alone.”

She gives Jase a quick glance before moving toward a bench. “I’m good. See you Monday.”

Her gym-rat trainer finally grabs his stuff and leaves. I cross my arms and stare, but when I don’t say anything, she stands to stretch her arms and shoulders, asking, “What?”

I tip my head. “Why the attitude?”

She raises a brow. “You’re the one who walked in on my workout and got weird with my trainer.”

I look to the side before settling my eyes back on her. “I’ve had a shit day.”

“Yeah?” She wipes her face with a towel and comes to me. “I’ve had a shit week. I win.”

I put my hand at her waist and pull her to me. She puts her hands to my chest and I’m half-surprised after her response she doesn’t try to push me away. “You workout like that all the time?”

“I can barely fit three workouts in a week. If I don’t schedule it with a trainer, I’d never do it.”

I give her a squeeze and run my hand up her back, thinking of all the ways I’d rather be making her sweaty. “Why the self-defense?”

She schools her face in a way that’s practiced, showing zero emotion or fucks given. I bet she’s perfected this look in her job to be taken seriously.

“There’s no reason not to train to be strong and smart at the same time,” she responds.

“You’re already smart enough not to put yourself in a situation where you’d need it. I want to know why you’ve been trained on pressure points, because that’s exactly what I saw.”

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