Jenna’s Protector (Guardian Hostage Rescue Specialists: CHARLIE Team #4)

9. Carter

NINE

Carter

Here you go.” Betty returns, the plates steaming as she sets them down. The rich aroma of clam chowder and grilled beef fills the air.

Jenna’s eyes widen as she tastes her chowder. “This is probably the best I’ve ever had. Want to try some?” She holds out her spoon, her eyes meeting mine with a warmth that makes my heart skip.

As I taste the chowder, I lean forward, hyper-aware of our proximity. Our fingers brush as I steady her hand, and a jolt of electricity shoots through me.

Jenna’s cheeks flush slightly as she draws back, the moment charged with unspoken tension.

“You’re right. That’s amazing.” My voice comes out huskier than intended.

Big Rick’s arrival breaks the moment, his burly frame casting a shadow over our table.

“How’s the food?” His deep voice rumbles, curiosity evident in his eyes as they flick between Jenna and me.

“Amazing as always.” I wipe my chin.

Jenna nods enthusiastically, savoring another spoonful .

“Brought Max a treat.” Big Rick sets down a paper plate with a bun-free burger.

As Max digs in, Big Rick’s questioning gaze returns to me. I shake my head slightly, and he retreats, leaving us to our not-quite-a-date date.

Our conversation flows freely. Jenna’s melodious laughter fills the air as she tells me about starting her coffee shop.

I lean in close, drawn in by the passion in her voice and the way her eyes light up.

“What’s your favorite color?” Jenna asks suddenly, a playful glint in her eye.

“Blue,” I reply, mirroring her smile. “Yours?”

“Green.” She pauses, then grins. “Would you rather be able to fly or be invisible?”

Our light-hearted game continues, each question peeling back another layer. Jenna tucks her hair behind her ear when she’s thinking, and her nose crinkles slightly when she laughs.

At one point, Jenna reaches out, her fingers lightly grazing the back of my hand. Without thinking, I turn my palm up, our fingers brushing. The contact sends another jolt through me, and our eyes lock.

The moment stretches, filled with possibility, before we both pull back slightly, a mix of excitement and uncertainty hanging between us. The awkward silence that follows is broken by the clatter of dishes from a nearby table, jolting us back to reality.

“I appreciate you sharing your story with me earlier.” Desperate to recapture our easy conversation, I lean forward, my hand brushing against hers. “It couldn’t have been easy, opening up about your past like that.”

“It wasn’t, but… It felt good to talk about it. With you.” Jenna’s eyes soften, her finger tracing patterns on the tabletop. Her gaze meets mine, holding it for a beat longer than necessary.

As the lunch progresses, the space between us shrinks. Our hands rest on the table, not quite touching but close enough to feel the warmth radiating between them. The conversation flows easily now, punctuated by shared laughter and lingering looks .

“I have an admission to make.” I lean forward and lower my voice to a whisper.

“You do?” Jenna’s eyebrows rise, curiosity sparkling in her eyes.

“I’m not a big coffee fan.” A sheepish grin spreads across my face. “I mostly go there because Max loves his treats.”

“Max is the reason you come in every day?” Her laugh is melodious, sending a warm flutter through my chest.

“Partly.” My grin widens. “The truth is, I go there to see you. You’re the brightest part of my day.”

Her cheeks flush a delightful pink, and she looks away, a small smile playing on her lips.

“What can I say? Despite how it sounds, being a detective isn’t all that glamorous. There’s a lot of desk work, chasing down fruitless leads, and endless paperwork. Starting my morning at your café, seeing your smile—it makes the rest of the day easier to face.”

Jenna’s eyes meet mine, and our connection feels stronger, more real.

“I’m glad,” she says softly. “That’s exactly what I hoped to create with the café.”

“Why a coffee shop?” I ask, genuinely curious. “What made you choose that?”

“I always loved the idea of having a place where people could come together.” Jenna’s expression turns thoughtful, a mix of nostalgia and something deeper, almost melancholic. “Plus, I’ve always been a bit of a coffee enthusiast.” She pauses, her fingers tracing patterns on the tablecloth. “But it’s more than that.”

I lean in, drawn by the vulnerability in her voice.

“My home life wasn’t great. I never had a place that felt safe, cozy, or welcoming. A place where I could bring friends or just—be.” She takes a deep breath. “So, I guess I’m trying to create what I never had. A place where people can relax, feel safe, be part of a community.”

“That’s—that’s incredible.” Her words hit me hard; admiration and fierce protectiveness well up inside me.

“What can I say? I’m trying to rebuild a past I never had and make it into something more. Something better.” She shrugs, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“I’d say you’ve succeeded.” I reach out to cover her hand with mine. “Your café is definitely a community hub. Everyone loves going there. I see the same faces every morning, people connecting, laughing. You’ve created something special.”

“Thank you.” Jenna’s eyes meet mine, shining with unshed tears. “That means a lot.”

We sit in comfortable silence for a moment, the weight of her revelation settling between us. As the lunch draws to a close, we linger over empty plates, both hesitating to leave the cozy bubble we’ve created.

“How about a piece of pie to share?” I’m not ready for our time together to end. “Big Rick’s pies are even better than his chowder.”

“That sounds perfect.” Jenna’s eyes light up, banishing the last traces of sadness.

Betsy brings over a slice of warm apple pie and the aroma of cinnamon and baked apples wafts between us. Something has shifted. We’re no longer just a cop and a witness or even a customer and a barista. We’re two people connecting and understanding each other on a deeper level.

We dig into the pie, our forks occasionally clashing as we go for the same bite. The warm, flaky crust crumbles delicately, releasing bursts of cinnamon-spiced apple with each mouthful. Jenna’s eyes sparkle with mischief as she playfully fends off my attempt to steal a slice of apple.

“Hey, that’s mine.” She laughs, the sound light and carefree, filling the diner with warmth.

I feign innocence, raising my eyebrows. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” My fork darts out again, this time successfully snagging a piece of apple.

Our laughter mingles with the soft clink of forks against the plate.

As we finish the last crumbs, I glance out at the coast. It’s a beautiful day.

“How about a walk? ”

“I’d like that.” Jenna’s expression softens, a slight flush coloring her cheeks.

Outside, the wind carries the salty tang of the ocean, whipping through our hair. Our shoulders bump as we walk. She shivers as a gust of wind whips around us.

“Here.” I shrug off my jacket.

As I drape it over her shoulders, my fingers brush against the soft skin of her neck. I gather her hair, freeing it from beneath the collar, the silky strands slipping through my fingers. Her shampoo, a subtle floral fragrance, wafts up, mingling with the salty sea air.

“Thanks,” Jenna murmurs, pulling the jacket closer.

Her scent mingles with the leather, creating an intoxicating blend that makes my head spin.

We stroll along the rocky coastline, the rhythmic crash of waves a soothing backdrop to our conversation. Our steps fall into sync, and I’m acutely aware of the diminishing space between us. Occasionally, our hands brush, each accidental touch sending sparks through my body.

Max enjoys the walk, surging in front of us to check out an exciting smell. Drifting behind to investigate a rustling in the bushes. Every now and then, he looks back at us as if ensuring we’re still there.

The conversation flows easily, more intimate now that we’re alone. We share childhood memories, hopes for the future, and silly anecdotes that have us both laughing. The way the sunlight plays across her features captivates me. It highlights the curves of her cheeks and the sparkle in her eyes.

This feels like a first date. It’s everything I imagined it would be, except it’s not a date.

Jenna’s soft laughter sends warmth spreading through my chest. I don’t even remember what it was I might have said to make her laugh. She glances up at me, her eyes holding mine for a moment longer than necessary.

Suddenly, she stumbles on the uneven ground. I reach out, wrapping my arm her waist to steady her.

She looks up at me, our faces inches apart .

Without thinking, I pull her to me, wrapping my arms around her. Dammit, I should’ve gone for a kiss.

She melts against me, her head resting on my chest. Her heartbeat is quick and steady, matching my own. The soft scent of her hair fills my senses, and I wish I could freeze this moment.

“This is nice,” Jenna whispers, her breath warm against my neck, sending a shiver down my spine. “I needed this.”

“Me too,” I reply, my voice rough with emotion. My hand moves of its own accord, gently stroking her back.

As we pull back, our faces remain close. The urge to kiss her is overwhelming.

Her lids flutter, and I lean in, our breaths mingling. I can almost taste the sweetness of the apple pie on her lips, but at the last moment, I pull back.

This isn’t a date.

It’s a professional encounter, no matter how it feels. Kissing her would be taking advantage of her in a vulnerable state, and honorable men don’t do that.

Reluctantly, I step back, immediately missing her warmth.

“I should take you back,” I say, my voice strained. “Malia must think I’ve kidnapped you.”

Only after the words are out of my mouth do I cringe. Kidnap? Did I really say that? What a fucking idiot.

“Yeah.” Jenna nods, disappointment flashing across her face. “I suppose so.”

The warmth of the moment cools, replaced by a growing awkwardness. Our easy banter fades into stilted silence as we walk back to the truck, the space between us now feeling vast and empty.

Max, sensing the change, whines softly as we all climb in.

The drive back is quiet. The only sounds are the soft growl of the engine and Max’s occasional shuffling. I steal glances at Jenna, who stares out the window, her expression unreadable in the passing streetlights. The jacket still drapes over her shoulders, a reminder of our brief closeness.

At her coffee shop, I cut the engine, uncertainty hanging heavy between us .

“Thanks for lunch.” Her hand lingers on the door handle. “It helped me relax.”

“I’m glad.” I force a smile. “It was nice getting to know you better.”

I walk her to the front door of her shop, hyper-aware of the space between us. There’s a moment of hesitation, a pause where I consider leaning in for a kiss, but I catch myself.

I pull her into a hug, careful not to overstep. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

Jenna rises on tiptoe and brushes the lightest kiss against my cheek.

And with that, she’s gone.