Page 211 of Rescuing Ally: Part 1

But my heart pounds harder.

My thighs press tighter.

And I know—I know—whatever they’re talking about?

It’s me.

It’s them.

And it’s coming.

Before I can spiral too far into that slow burn, Rebel breezes past, catching my stare.

She arches a brow, a knowing smirk tugging at her lips. “Your men look like trouble today.”

I exhale slowly, trying to play it cool?—

But my gaze lingers on Gabe and Hank, still speaking in quiet tones.

Not trouble.

Ruin.

And I’ll beg for it.

“Should I tell Jenna I’m going to be late again?” I murmur, voice dry.

Rebel doesn’t answer right away—because we both turn, looking at Jenna.

She’s already watching.

Standing behind the pastry case, arms crossed, one hip cocked, assessing the situation with the kind of resigned irritation only a woman who’s seen this play out a dozen times can muster.

Her eyes flick from Gabe to Hank to me, then back to Rebel, and she slowly raises a single brow.

Rebel snorts. “Jenna’s already figured that out.”

The café feels different now.

More crowded, more alive—a shifting of energy that settles deep in my bones.

“Look alive, ladies,” Malia mutters, sliding closer with a wicked grin. “The chaos committee has arrived.”

Carter Jackson saunters in like he owns the place—identical to Blake in face, but all swagger and sun, golden-boy charm wrapped around lethal Guardian precision.

And he’s headed straight for Jenna.

He leans in across the counter, voice dropping to that low, teasing rumblethat turns heads.

“How about a kiss?” he says, eyes locked on hers.

Jenna doesn’t blink.

Doesn’t blush.

She grabs a wooden stir stick and taps it once—sharp—on the countertop like a ref blowing the whistle.

“No PDA in the workplace, Carter. House rules.”

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