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I took a taste and grinned up at him. “Perfect.”
“He rescued me,” Alessandro added and pointed at Jackson.
“You were so brave, and you rescued yourself,” Jackson corrected him, and Alessandro blushed as he left.
“What exactly happened?” I asked when it was the two of us again.
“Mack and I were heading out to a scene, but they kept us back, so we were on a break, and this kid just comes over to us and tells us he’s lost. He’d been hovering for a while, uncertain. Just as I was about to go ask him if he was okay, he asked us for help. He’s a good kid. Quirky. Sweet. Hell, walking him home, that was nothing,” Jackson said, brushing off the act as mundane. “But the gratitude from his family, you’d think we’d saved the world.”
Franco, passing by, nodded vigorously. “Youdidsave our world that day,” he insisted. “Alessandro’s a special boy, and not everyone takes the time to see that. But, Jackson, you and your partner, you saw him. You helped him. That makes you family.”
As we finished our meal, Franco refused any attempt at payment, and Jackson left a huge tip that more than covered it instead, with me adding in some as well. Then, walking back to the car, we held hands, and I felt a connection to Jackson that went beyond the surface.
“Tonight was… it was so good, Jackson. Thank you for sharing that with me,” I said.
Jackson smiled, that same soft smile that had drawn me in from the start. “I’m glad you enjoyed it. Let’s get you home.”
We buckled up, and then I held out a hand, which he took, feeling a hundred kinds of awkward and almost shy. “I’m not ready for the date to end.”
“I’m so glad you said that.”
“You want to get a coffee or something?”
“I have coffee at my place.” He quirked an eyebrow.
“Then, how about a coffee at your place?”
“I can get us home in twenty,” he said.
And not that I was watching the clock, but he made it in eighteen.
ChapterSixteen
Jackson
Not that Iwas in a hurry or anything, but I was in a hurry.
Oliver was all mine for a few hours. No kids, no hockey, no criminal activities.
God, please, by all that is holy, do not let someone call me with something work-related. I know I’m a public servant and all that, but Lord, I do like this man and want to get laid. So, if it’s in your wheelhouse, and we all know it probs is, give my overworked ass one night of peace. Amen.
We pulled up in front of my complex with undue haste, the slip and slide into my end parking slot pulling a raised brow from Oliver.
“That’s known as the Starsky and Hutch skid and park. It’s taught at the police academy,” I explained as I shifted the Buick into Park, then cut the engine.
“Oh, really? What else do they teach at the academy that’s from old cop shows?”
“Well, there was this class on how to kiss someone you really want to fuck.”
He chuckled. “Do tell.”
“Much rather show.”
I reached for him, hand cupping the back of his neck, and pulled his mouth to mine. Unlike today’s cars, my baby has a split bench that allows two grown men to get at each other with no damn console in the way. Yay, Detroit, in the seventies, knew what they were doing. Big cars, big engines, big seats.
His lips were soft, pliant, and opened over mine. I slid my tongue into his mouth, sighing dreamily as the taste of Oliver and Italian food exploded on my taste buds. The kiss was messy and so fucking hot. We had to break apart, breathless, to find, then pop our seatbelt latches.
“Ahh, there we go,” I purred, grabbing at him with greedy fingers, only to see him easing out of the car.
