“Hey,” he said, reaching out. He scanned my face, almost as if he was trying to remember. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

I shrugged him off. “I better get back in there. I sort of need this job now.”

“Does uh … does Zeke have a thing for you?”

“Zeke?” I said, my voice going up an octave. “No. I mean, I don’t think so. No, definitely not.”

“Do you have a thing for him?”

My expression twisted. “Why in the fuck are you asking me that?”

“Have you met my brother?”

I stood, completely confused. “You sound completely crazy right now.”

“Just making sure before I make a pass at you.”

“Make a pass at me? Are we in junior high?”

His eyebrows pulled in. He was really concentrating now, looking as confused as I felt. “I went to middle school.”

“I don’t think you left.”

He breathed out a laugh. “What are you doing later?”

“Not you.”

He choked on the drag he’d just inhaled, and then smoke and laughter tumbled from his mouth. “Easy, sweetheart. You’re going to hurt my feelings.”

“Listen, I’m having a hard time going back inside, which tells me one thing: you need to go away, and stay away. I’m trying to be good here, and you’re … not. Good … for me … at all.”

He touched his chest with his palm. “I’m good,” he said, feigning insult.

His confidence made my thighs tingle. “No. You’re bad. And I’m bad. And you need to go back to the station or headquarters or whatever you call it so I can keep my job.”

“I’m going to Turk’s later. You should meet me there.”

I shook my head, backing away. “Nope. Definitely not.”

He took a step forward, amused by my retreat. He knew the effect he had on me, and he was enjoying it. “Am I making you nervous?”

My back touched the door. I sighed, looking up at the clouded sky. “I’m going to get fired.” I reached for his face and planted a hard kiss on his mouth.

Tyler didn’t flinch, gripping my coat and pulling me toward him. His lips were vaguely familiar, commanding and purposeful. He slipped his tongue inside, and I hummed, closing my eyes and letting him take me somewhere else—anywhere else—but the surreal, clusterfuck scenario I was currently in.

I pushed him away, breathless. “Is your truck around?”

“My truck?”

“Yeah, the one with the back seat.” I reached down for the rock behind his zipper.

“It’s … at the station.” He moaned, taking my ass in both hands. He lifted up, pressing me against him.

I was glad I was wearing jeans and a flannel shirt. If I had been in the leather and light sweater I’d worn the day before, no amount of fucking could have warmed me up.