With Me

Rivers Edge - Book 6

By Lacey Black

With You

A Rivers Edge Christmas Novella

Copyright © 2019 Lacey Black

Cover Photo: Adobe Photo Stock #239327661

Cover Design by Melissa Gill Designs

Editing by Kara Hildebrand

Proofreading by Joanne Thompson

Format by Brenda Wright, Formatting Done Wright

This book is a work of fiction. Any reference to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

No part of this publication may be reproduced by any means without the prior written permission of the author.

All rights reserved.

Index

Also by Lacey Black

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Epilogue

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Also by Lacey Black

Rivers Edge series

Trust Me, Rivers Edge book 1 (Maddox and Avery) – FREE at all retailers

~ #1 Bestseller in Contemporary Romance

Fight Me, Rivers Edge book 2 (Jake and Erin)

Expect Me, Rivers Edge book 3 (Travis and Josselyn)

Promise Me: A Novella, Rivers Edge book 3.5 (Jase and Holly)

Protect Me, Rivers Edge book 4 (Nate and Lia)

Boss Me, Rivers Edge book 5 (Will and Carmen)

Trust Us: A Rivers Edge Christmas Novella (Maddox and Avery)

~ This novella was originally part of the Christmas Miracles Anthology

BOX SET – contains all 5 novels, 2 novellas, and a BONUS short story

Bound Together series

Submerged, Bound Together book 1 (Blake and Carly)

~ An International Bestseller

Profited, Bound Together book 2 (Reid and Dani)

~A Bestseller, reaching Top 100 on 2 e-retailers

Entwined, Bound Together book 3 (Luke and Sidney)

Summer Sisters series

My Kinda Kisses, Summer Sisters book 1 (Jaime and Ryan)

~A Bestseller, reaching Top 100 on 2 e-retailers

My Kinda Night, Summer Sisters book 2 (Payton and Dean)

My Kinda Song, Summer Sisters book 3 (Abby and Levi)

My Kinda Mess, Summer Sisters book 4 (Lexi and Linkin)

My Kinda Player, Summer Sisters book 5 (AJ and Sawyer)

My Kinda Player, Summer Sisters book 6 (Meghan and Nick)

My Kinda Wedding, A Summer Sisters Novella book 7 (Meghan and Nick)

Rockland Falls series

Love and Pancakes, Rockland Falls book 1

Love and Lingerie, Rockland Falls book 2

Love and Landscape, Rockland Falls book 3

Standalone

Music Notes, a sexy contemporary romance standalone

A Place To Call Home, a Memorial Day novella

Exes and Ho Ho Ho’s, a sexy contemporary romance standalone novella

Co-Written with NYT Bestselling Author, Kaylee Ryan

It’s Not Over

*Coming Soon from Lacey Black

Love and Neckties, Book 4 in the Rockland Falls series

Just Getting Started, Book 2 with Kaylee Ryan      

Chapter One

Brooklyn

“Jackson!” My name is bellowed by my superior officer from the small office just off to the side of the pit. Glancing at the clock, I see I have less than fifteen minutes left in my shift, and everyone here is getting ready for shift change. Adjusting my belt, I make my way to where I’m being summoned, trying to hide the yawn.

I’m on my second month of nights and clearly not used to it yet. In fact, working through the night is hard. When everyone else is sleeping, I’m chugging coffee to stay awake and alert. Two years ago, as a rookie with the Rivers Edge Police Department, I was hired on swing shift. It worked out fine for me, the hours allowing me to sleep in a little bit to make up for working later in the evening. But this? Six at night to six in the morning? It’s a difficult transition.

When I round the corner and step into the captain’s office, I find my lieutenant behind the desk. Our small police department really only has one office besides the chief’s, so it’s used by both captains and lieutenants alike if privacy is needed.

“You hollered?” I ask, stepping inside, but waiting for him to invite me to sit.

“Have a seat, Jackson,” he says, the sternness and discipline evident in his order as he motions for one of the beat-up chairs in front of the desk. He doesn’t even glance up, just keeps his eyes on whatever he’s reading in front of him.

Wordlessly, I take a seat, but can’t help the smile that slips on my lips. Christmas is less than two weeks away, and “Jingle Bells” is coming from the small, dusty radio in the corner of the room. When he glances up and makes eye contact, I’m unable to mask my smile in enough time.

“Something funny?” he asks, his intense eyes glued to my face.

Clearing my throat, I dig for the professionalism that’s expected when working in this department. “No, sir.”

He holds my gaze. I’m starting to get a little uncomfortable, since he doesn’t say anything about why I’m here. Even a reprimand for smiling would be something, right?

Finally, Lieutenant glances over at the wall, to the small radio in the corner. “They’re playing all sorts of Christmas music today. I was listening for the news reports,” he states, sitting back in the chair.

“Of course, sir,” I reply, wondering if deep down he was actually waiting for the news or if he was just trying to get into the Christmas spirit and rockin’ out to fourteen different renditions of “Jingle Bells” and “Here Comes Santa Claus.”

“Anyway,” he starts, sitting forward and resting his elbows on the worn desk, “The reason I called you in here was to tell you we’ve finally hired a new officer. Kollman will be moving to cover the swing shift now that we’ve filled the night shift void.”

My heart drops. I really wanted the swing shift back, but I understand the hours fit with his wife’s schedule better than overnights. Plus, he has more seniority. I know I’m still one of the low men (or women) on the totem pole, so overnights is where I’ll be until another regular shift spot opens up. Fortunately, that might be sooner rather than later with the rumor mill speculating that the chief would be retiring early next year, potentially shuffling around a few of the older officers.

“I know you were hoping to return to the swing shift, but that’s not where you’re needed right now, Jackson. I have a new officer starting tomorrow night, and I need you to train him,” my lieutenant states, drawing my attention back to the reason I was called into the office.

“Me?” I ask, surprised, considering I’m still viewed as one of the newer officers. Even after two years on the force, we have men and women who have served the citizens of Rivers Edge, Missouri a lot longer than I have.

“Yes, you. He’s going to be your partner, in a sense, so who better to train him than you?” he asks, though I know he’s not really looking for a response. “Plus, you’ve proven your dedication and efficiency. Your paperwork is always on time and in order, your stops and call responses are by the book, and your commitment to keeping the streets safe doesn’t go unnoticed.”

Before I can even stop the words from falling from my lips, I say, “And this has nothing to do with my…family?”

Ahhh, yes, the elephant in the room.

My lieutenant just stares at me from across the desk. I swear you would hear a pin drop, if it weren’t for Kelly Clarkson singing about having a silent night. It’s no secret that my family has deep ties to the force. My own father is a captain, but also serves as deputy chief. You’ll even find one of my uncles on the force too. In fact, back in the day, they were partners. That’s before budgets were crunched tight and they always had two officers in each car. Now, you still have a partner that you back up, but you’re in separate cars, patrolling town.

Finally, he speaks. “This has nothing to do with your family, Jackson. This has everything to do with your abilities, and we feel you’re more than capable to train our new officer. Yes, you may be only twenty-five, but you have more experience around this force than half the officers. More brains too, but if you repeat that, I’ll deny it and demote you,” he says, his eyes conveying the seriousness of the matter.

“Yes, sir,” I reply, automatically, though silently preening from the compliment.

“Anyway, Ramsey starts tomorrow at six. He’ll be your shadow for the next two weeks. Do you have any questions?” he asks, reaching for his pen as if ready to dismiss me.

“No, sir,” I reply, getting ready to exit.

Before I do, however, there’s a knock on the door. When I turn around, I come face-to-face with the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen. Dark hair, just long enough to run your fingers through, and the most intoxicating pair of hazel eyes I’ve ever seen. His tanned face is covered in a well-trimmed, short beard, and his lips are full and totally kissable. He stands several inches taller than me, probably about six foot, if I had to guess. His shoulders are broad, but not in that bulky bodybuilder way, and his navy blue REPD long-sleeved T-shirt fits perfectly in all the right places.

And I’m just now realizing that I’m staring…

“Jackson, meet Ramsey, your new partner.”

My totally hot new partner steps forward, a smile on his face. Perfectly straight, white teeth too. He extends his hand toward me, his eyes never wavering from mine. “Nice to meet you,” he says in a deep, southern drawl that makes my comfortable white cotton panties (the only thing to wear with a uniform like this) completely useless.

“Likewise,” I mumble, my tongue suddenly heavy and dry.

“Anyway, Ramsey is about to meet with the clerk to finalize the rest of his paperwork. He’ll join you in the pit tomorrow at six,” our Lieutenant states, signing the rest of the papers in front of him and closing the folder.

“Thank you,” I say before turning my attention toward my new (really, really hot) partner. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I look forward to it,” he replies before tossing a quick goodbye to the man behind the desk and turning to exit the small office.

My eyes watch him go until they no longer see him. His ass? Oh, it’s just as amazing as his front.

“Is there a problem?” I hear over my shoulder, startling me from my voyeurism.

“No, sir, of course not. I look forward to working with Ramsey,” I reply without even turning around because I know my face is flushed and there’s no way it would go unnoticed.

My lieutenant sighs as I reach the door, finally pulling my attention back his way. He looks a little tired as he rubs the back of his neck. “This is going to be a problem,” he mumbles, leaning back and tossing his booted feet on top of the desk.

“Problem? It won’t,” I start, but am cut off with the raise of his hand.

“I know you’re professional, I’m not saying that.”

“Then what are you saying?”

Again, he sighs and closes his eyes. I can tell he has something to say, and I stand there, my shoulders back, as I wait for his reply. “Never mind. Forget I said anything.”

I nod once and wait. Even at a younger age, I’m more than capable to train a new officer. I know it. My lieutenant is right, I’ve grown up in this force. It’s in my blood. Between my father and my uncle, and the fact that I’ve wanted to be a police officer since I was about ten years old, I know that I can do this job, and do it well.

I guess I just wasn’t expecting the new guy to melt the panties right off my body. Merry Christmas to me, huh? Apparently I was a very good girl this year.

“Thank you for the vote of confidence. I won’t let you down,” I state before turning and heading back to the doorway.

“Bean.” The nickname from my childhood stops me in my tracks and brings a smile to my face. “You could never let me down.” His words are quiet and dripping with love.

Glancing back over my shoulder, I grin at the man I’ve known my entire life, one who’s been by my side and supported me through my career choice. “Thanks, Uncle Jake.”

Chapter Two

Becker

Well, that was a pleasant surprise.

As I make my way from the small office where Lieutenant Stevens was, I can’t stop the smile on my face as I picture my new training partner. She’s a huge change from the forty-five-year-old male I had been stuck with in Durant, Oklahoma.

Officer Jackson.

Yes, a welcomed change indeed.

A looker with long, blonde hair and big blue eyes, Jackson stands several inches shorter than me and wears a take-no-shit attitude like a faithful, worn T-shirt. But I also saw the way she looked at me. Her mask slipped, if even for just a few seconds.

Jackson. My new captain’s last name is Jackson, and I can’t help but wonder if they’re related. It’s not uncommon to work with family on small-town forces. I’ve seen it before, heard all the stories. It’s one of the things that attracted me to Rivers Edge—that small town, Mayberry vibe. Well, that and the fact that my sister is here. After the shit that went down in Durant, a slower, easier pace in Small Town U.S.A. is a welcome reprieve.

Especially if I get to ride alongside Officer Jackson.

This move is definitely looking up already.

After filling out the final packet of paperwork and verifying everything with the State of Missouri certifying board, I meet with the Chief to get my new badge, keys, and ID and head toward the exit. It feels good to carry the shield again, even though it’s only been a handful of months. When I quit the force in Durant, I wasn’t sure if I’d want to be an officer again. But when I got to Rivers Edge a little over a month ago, after my sister and I talked about what it meant to me and why I left, it made me realize that being a cop is a part of me. It’s who I am. I’ve wanted it since I was a young boy, trying to arrest my sister and all her dolls in the backyard.

As I make my way down the front stairs, the December chill seeping through my jacket, my attention is drawn to an approaching man. “Becker Ramsey.”

I glance up and face the man who interviewed me a few weeks ago. “Good to see you again, Captain Jackson,” I reply, reaching my hand forward and taking his. His grip is firm and strong, just as it was the first time I met him.

“I take it everything is in order?” my superior asks, nodding toward the badge I’ve already secured to my belt. Old habits and all that shit…

“All set, sir. All of my previous training records are complete, showing I’ve finished the same amount of training and education in Oklahoma as is required in Missouri. The Board sent their approval letter, and I’ve completed the online course. I’ll be here by six tomorrow evening,” I tell him, my mind conjuring up another image of my sexy new partner. The way her shapeless uniform molded to her curves, well, it’s something I won’t forget any time soon. His dark brown eyes narrow just a bit, as if he’s reading my mind. I clear my throat and push aside the mental picture of Officer Jackson. “I’m looking forward to starting this new phase.”

He watches me for a flash of a second before nodding his head once. “Good. We’re happy to have you as part of the team. The overnight group is a good bunch of officers,” he offers. “You should get along with them just fine.”

“I’m anxious to get started, sir.”

“And you’re being trained by Officer Jackson,” he starts, but leaves the door wide open. I take the opportunity to kick it open the rest of the way.

“So… Jackson. Any relation?” I ask casually, trying to figure out what to do with my hands. Why does this man make me so nervous?

“Yes.” That’s all he gives me. His dark eyes bore into me in a way that brings on a sudden wave of discomfort. I’m usually a pretty calm, levelheaded man, but the way my captain looks at me makes me feel exposed and slightly out of my element.

I nod once, realizing he’s not going to tell me any more than that one word. “Well, I will let you get to work. It’s an honor to join the department, sir.”

“Your record speaks volumes for the type of officer you are. Plus, it doesn’t hurt that your superior in Durant gave you a raving recommendation. We’re happy you chose Rivers Edge,” he adds before turning and heading toward the front door, not waiting for my reply.

With a smile on my face, I head toward my 1969 Chevy Camaro SS. This baby puts out six-hundred-thirty horsepower of raw power. Despite being fifty years old, I’ve put all of my time and money into restoring her from the old barn I found her in to the sweet purring tiger she is today. This car is pure sex on wheels, and I love nothing more than stretching her legs on the open road. Even the prospect of icy, snowy roads won’t keep me from driving my girl every day.

Firing up the engine, I back out of the parking spot and head toward my sister’s place. She’s in a small apartment complex at the edge of town. Brittany was ecstatic when I called her up a month ago and asked to sleep on her couch. I had no clue where I was going, but I knew I couldn’t stay in Oklahoma. The shit with my old partner took more than just my love for the job. It took my home too.

I pull into the visitor space in front of her place and hop out. Brit had to go in early this morning and won’t be home until after five, which gives me the day to search for my own place. She says she’s fine with me bunking on her couch, but I know it’s hard when you have someone constantly underfoot. Her place is only one bedroom with a dinky bathroom, so there’s barely any privacy for either of us. She doesn’t even have room for a proper Christmas tree.

Inside, I grab my laptop and start the search for a place to live. I click on the bookmarked tab of a local realtor dealing with rentals and start to browse. There is a handful available in my price range, which is a plus. Even though I haven’t worked for the last month and moved to a new state, I was able to put aside enough over the years for a decent savings account. At least I’ll be able to cover first and last month’s rent, as well as grab a few of the furnishings that aren’t sitting in a storage unit after making the trip with me from Oklahoma.

When the clock finally hits eight, I dial the number on the site and set up an appointment with a woman named Jani for one that afternoon. She says she has five different rentals for me to check out, all of which fall within what I can afford. As I hang up, I find an incoming text from Barry, one of my old buddies from home.

Barry: How’s life in Podunk treating you?

Me: Great. Checking some rentals today.

Barry: Make sure you get two bedrooms. This way, when I come visit, I have privacy to entertain the ladies.

Me: The only entertaining you do is with your hand. The ladies hate you.

Barry: You wound me.

Me: Hardly. Did you want something or just to bug me?

Barry: Did your sister ask about me?

I practically growl at my phone screen. Even though my sister wants nothing to do with Barry and his bed-hopping ways, it still bugs the piss out of me when he heckles me about her. Especially because I know it’s all bullshit and he’s doing it just to get a rise. I fall for it every time.

Me: Nope. Doesn’t even remember your name.

Barry: Oh, she remembers. She was yelling it all night long.

Me: I can kill you and cover it up, you know.

Barry: I always knew you were crooked.

My gut churns. I know he doesn’t mean it, but still, the implication hurts. For weeks after my partner’s shit was discovered, I was investigated and interrogated. Even after being found innocent of any wrongdoing, I felt a big black mark following me wherever I went. Barry knows this, which is why I know he didn’t mean anything by his comment.

Still doesn’t mean it didn’t sting a little.

Me: Anyway, I better get going. Meeting the realtor later.

Barry: She hot?

Me: The hottest

Barry: Don’t hold out on me. You better send pics.

Me: Ain’t happenin’

Barry: Fine. I’ll just have to come there and see for myself.

Me: You’re welcome anytime

Barry: Later

I drop my phone onto the couch and head into the kitchen to grab a bite to eat. I have a handful of hours before I have to head to the first house. If I can find one today that I like, I might be able to be in by the new year in just a few weeks. Then, I can feel like I can finally start my life again.

*****

“Good to meet ya, Ramsey. I’m Sergeant Hall, and this is my partner Officer Hamm,” the older gentleman says as he approaches, a friendly smile on his face. “We’re the other team on nights.”

“Happy to be here. I’m looking forward to joining the team,” I tell him as I shake both of their hands. I take a quick glance around the small pit space for officers, unable to spot my new partner.

“You’re riding with Jackson tonight, right?” Hamm asks, a weird grin on his face.

“Yeah,” I answer, but before I can ask why the face, the object of my latest inappropriate fantasies steps out of the tiny office I met her in yesterday, Captain Jackson hot on her heels.

Hamm takes off to one of the desks and gathers a few items on top. “Don’t worry about him,” Sergeant Hall says quietly. “Jackson’s a good officer, just thinks she has a lot to prove.” Then, before he can elaborate, he’s gone, meeting his partner and heading out the door.

“Ramsey,” Captain Jackson says as they approach. I know they share a last name, but I don’t see a resemblance. Where the older man has dark salt and pepper hair and even darker eyes, the young woman’s hair is very blonde with light blue eyes, not to mention the fact that their facial features are completely different. If they’re related, I’m thinking it can’t be blood.

“Captain,” I reply, reaching for his proffered hand.

“Officer Jackson has been briefed on tonight’s proceedings. You’re in good, capable hands,” the older man says, smiling down at the younger woman. She blushes a bit, an act that seems to make her entire face shine like a rare diamond. Her hair is pulled tight in a ponytail at the nape of her neck, and my fingers tingle at the thought of sliding up her neck and tangling in that hair.

Clearing my throat, I turn away from the woman I shouldn’t be attracted to, yet can’t seem to stop thinking about. “I’m ready to get started, sir.”

He stares at me, our eyes connect, and I swear he knows what I’m thinking. The same thing happened yesterday, and it leaves me a little unnerved. Captain Jackson turns to my new partner and says, “Call me directly if you have any issues.”

She rolls her eyes. Like full fledge rolls them, an act I’d never expect to see from an officer to his or her superior. “We’ll be fine,” she states bluntly, turning her back and grabbing a few things off a desk.

Captain sighs and mumbles, “You are your mother’s child.”

My partner doesn’t laugh, but grins widely before turning it off and walking to the exit, leaving me a bit more perplexed than before. “Let’s go, Ramsey,” she yells before hitting the doorway, her hips swaying beneath her standard blue uniform. She moves so fluidly, so beautifully. She’s a fucking knockout.

“Eyes up, Ramsey.” His words come out a slight growl. Realizing I’ve been busted ogling her very nice ass, and clearly overstaying my welcome in the captain’s presence, I move quickly to catch up with my new partner as she makes her way out of the police station.

We don’t talk as we meet at the squad car we’re assigned. Jackson heads to the driver’s side and climbs in, firing up the heat before I even have my door open. She calls dispatch, relaying our badge numbers, and lets them know we’re on duty. Then, we’re off to patrol the streets of Rivers Edge.

She drives easily around town. Most of the main streets I recognize from my short time living here, but there are a few I’ll need to learn and familiarize myself with.  Neither of us talk for the first thirty minutes or so, which is a huge change from the chatty partner I had back in Durant.

Unable to take the silence any longer, I adjust myself in my seat and ask, “So, have you lived here your whole life?”

She glances my way, a look of question on her face. “Yeah.”

I nod, waiting to see if she’ll elaborate. When she doesn’t, I ask, “Any good pizza joints in this town?”

When she looks my way this time, I see a little relief in her baby blues. “Yes, actually, there is. My favorite’s over on Locust. It’s an Italian place, but the pizza is better than everyone else’s. Try the margherita pizza or the barbeque chicken ranch. They’re the best.”

“Sounds good, though I’m more of a banana pepper and bacon guy myself,” I tell her, glancing around at the landscape of my new town.

“Banana peppers? On pizza?” she asks.

“Don’t knock it until you try it. I’m from Oklahoma. We put peppers on everything.”

As we reach a stop sign, our eyes meet and hold from across the seat. My heart starts to pound in my chest, an unfamiliar beat that’s both exhilarating and a little scary. She quickly looks away and returns her focus to the road ahead of us.

There was something there, in that moment. I can’t say what it was, but I felt it like a zap of electricity or a shot of whiskey. I know I shouldn’t even entertain the thought, but I can’t seem to stop myself from wanting to explore it further, breaking every code known to man. There isn’t a rule against interdepartmental dating, but it’s definitely frowned upon when working directly together. No, I didn’t exactly seek out the information, but it was part of the training handbook.

Nonetheless, I should keep a professional relationship with my new partner, or anyone in the department. Not only am I the new guy, but I’m also the new guy in town. I need to direct my attention to the job, not the pretty lady sitting beside me.

Vowing to return my focus where it needs to be, I keep my eyes on the road ahead of us and my mind on the job. I need to ignore the subtle scent of jasmine that’s wrapping around my senses like a familiar blanket and the stir in my groin whenever she looks my way.

Just over eleven hours left of my first shift.

Shouldn’t be a problem, right?

Chapter Three

Brooklyn

I can smell him.

I’m trapped in the cab of the squad car with the scent of musk and woodsy soap suffocating me. How am I supposed to focus on driving or, I don’t know, my job, when all I can think about is Ramsey in the shower, with water cascading down his hard, muscular body?

Only eleven hours of this hell left until I can go home and pretend I don’t want to climb him like a tree and ravish his naked body with my tongue.

And probably have to take care of the ache I feel between my legs.

As we roll up to a red light, I see a truck barreling down the street, clearly driving faster than the twenty-five-miles-per-hour limit. I glance at the radar gun on my dash at the same time Ramsey grabs the device, pointing it at the truck. “Forty-six,” he says, setting the device back in the holder as I flip on the lights.

I pull out behind the recognizable truck, which immediately puts on the brakes and pulls over. “I’m sure traffic stops are the same in Oklahoma as in Missouri, but watch this one. You can take the lead during the next,” I tell him as I park behind the truck and type in the plates. It comes up quickly and after a glance at the familiar details, I climb out. Ramsey is fast, already in front of me before I reach the vehicle. He doesn’t say anything though; just glances inside the truck bed and keeps to the passenger side to provide coverage.

“Hey, Paul,” I say as I reach the cab, heat billowing out from the window.

“Hey, Bean,” he says, a sheepish grin on his face. “Guess I was going a little fast, huh?”

Ignoring the nickname I was given as a baby by my uncles, I reply, “Yeah. License, registration, and insurance?”

The man I used to live down the block from grabs the identification swiftly and hands them through the window. “Sorry about this. I was trying to get to the DQ before they close. You know they have weird winter hours. Marge has been craving those banana splits lately,” he replies, a slow blush of embarrassment creeping up his neck.

“How’s she doing?” I ask quietly.

“She has her good days and her bad ones. This last round of treatment is really taking a lot out of her, but she’s the strongest woman I know. She’ll beat it,” he adds, his eyes filling with unshed tears and love for his wife.

Marge was diagnosed with breast cancer. It started in her lymph nodes, and while they were able to treat and remove the cancer there months back, it spread quickly to her right breast. She’s undergoing an aggressive chemo treatment in hopes of killing the disease once and for all, but the fact that they’re dealing with this right before Christmas has definitely put a damper on the festive vibe in town.

Handing him back his identification, I find myself saying, “Follow me,” before I can give it a second thought. I climb back into the squad, Ramsey quickly getting in behind me.

“Everything okay?” he asks as I pull out, killing the lights, and leading the way. He blows on his hands to warm them up.

“Yeah,” I answer, my throat tight with emotion.

He doesn’t say a word as I drive us toward the Dairy Queen and wave to Paul, who turns into the lot with two minutes to spare. I keep going, trying to think about anything other than Marge at home and tired from fighting for her life.

As we continue on our patrol, Ramsey keeps quiet while I work out the emotions running through my mind. Finally, I pull onto the familiar street where I grew up and smile. “Paul’s wife has been fighting cancer. I’ve known her most of my life. They live there,” I say, pointing to the tri-level home across the street from the one I pull into to turn around.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he says.

“Sometimes, what’s right isn’t the right thing to do, Ramsey,” I whisper, glancing up at the house my parents still share as I reverse and back out, heading the way I came. “There’s no way I could give him a ticket, not when he was on his way to get her ice cream.”

“You made the right call,” he says, validating what I already knew. “I would have done the same.”

I glance his way, those intoxicating hazel eyes seeming to look directly into my soul, and nod.

We spend the next couple of hours answering a few calls and making some stops. When our dinnertime rolls around, we opt for a quick sit-down meal at the diner instead of a drive-thru burger. Honestly, a little fresh air would do me good. I’m not sure I could stay in the small confines of the car with Ramsey much longer. He smells too amazing and he’s messing with my mind. I need to get myself together, and I need to do it quick.

The familiar bell chimes over the door as we step inside the diner. There’s a small Christmas tree by the door with wrapped empty boxes stacked beneath it. The place is almost completely empty as we approach their closing time. “Hey, Bean!” Lilly Harris greets from the counter. “Have a seat anywhere,” she adds.

I head to where she stands, opting for the casualness of the counter instead of the more intimate booth seats. “We’ll just sit up here,” I tell her, nodding to a group of teenagers eating cheese fries at the end of the counter. This place used to be one of my favorites too at that age.

“What’s good here?” Ramsey asks as he takes the seat beside me.

“Everything, but I’m partial to the BLT and cheese fries,” I tell him, not even bothering for the menu at the edge of the counter.

“The usual?” Lilly asks as she sets a glass of sweet tea down in front of me.

“Yep.”

“What can I get you to drink?” she asks my partner, giving a slow appreciative look that leaves her smiling.

“I’ll just have what she’s having,” he says, returning the menu to the rack.

“Tea?”

“Unsweetened,” he replies, glancing around the small diner with a critical eye.

After Lilly walks away to put in our order, I can’t help but ask, “Unsweetened?”

“They always put too much sugar in, so I prefer to do it myself.”

“There’s no such thing as too much sugar, Ramsey,” I tell him, taking a big gulp and sighing happily.

Our food is out quickly, most likely because it’s the only order in the kitchen. I stab a few cheesy fries with my fork and shovel them into my mouth. A moan of pleasure slips from my lips as I chew. Feeling his eyes on me, I turn toward my partner. Those hazel orbs are dilated and dark, watching my throat as I swallow the food.

“Umm, sorry,” I reply, my eyes dropping to my plate of fries.

“Don’t be sorry for enjoying your food.” There’s a heavy weight in the room, and it feels a hell of a lot like sexual tension. I need to squash it quickly before it gets out of hand. We’re partners.

“So… Bean?” he asks as he takes a bite of a fry, a smile on his full lips.

I groan in embarrassment, closing my eyes for a moment to try to block out the look of humor most likely smeared across his gorgeous face. “You heard that?”

“Twice. The guy we pulled over first said it and then the server.” He takes a big bite of his sandwich and then turns expectantly, waiting for me to explain.

Sighing, I finally answer. “It’s the nickname I was given as a baby. There are a few people who still call me that,” I shrug casually.

He nods, sticking a handful of fries in his mouth. After he chews and swallows, he turns, setting his elbow on the counter and locking his eyes on mine. “So, Officer Jackson, what is your first name?”

“Brooklyn.”

He’s silent and when I look his way, there’s a slight grin on his lips. “Brooklyn. I like it. It fits you.”

I can feel the blush creep up my neck and spread throughout my entire body. A warm feeling settles in my chest as I ask, “How so?”

Ramsey finishes chewing the final bite of his sandwich, balls up his napkin, and drops it on the empty plate. “It’s feminine, yet tough. Like you.”

I gape across the way, my mouth hanging wide open. “You don’t even know me,” I reply, my voice quiet and hoarse.

The new officer shrugs. “It’s mostly just an observation. You wear a thick coat of armor across your chest and carry the weight of something heavy on your shoulders.”

I blink repeatedly at his statement, hating that it’s crazily accurate. “This is a little heavy for first night conversation,” I reply, tossing my own crumpled up napkin on the counter and reaching into my pocket for cash, essentially closing off the rest of the discussion.

“I’ll get it,” he says, pulling his own wallet from his back pocket.

“No, I got my own. Thanks, though,” I state, throwing enough cash on the counter to cover my check and a decent tip. Before I even wait for his reply, I jump up off the stool, throw a wave to Lilly, and head toward the door. The bitter December air bites at my face and sends a shiver through my body. Sudden images of Ramsey’s arms wrapping around me, pulling me tightly against his hard body fill my mind. I bet a man like that knows how to keep a woman warm…

“Ready?” he asks, meeting me at the squad car and pulling me from the images of his body entwined with my own.

“Yep!” That single word is high-pitched and all breathy.

The rest of the shift progresses smoothly. We have a few more calls and a couple of stops, and for the most part, we have an easy shift, despite the random, not-too-personal small talk. By the time six in the morning rolls around, I’m exhausted and yawning, ready to finish up and head home. My bed is definitely calling me, even if I’ll be climbing in alone.

Ramsey follows me into the precinct, quietly observing my every move and absorbing everything I tell him. The day shift is moving about, getting their own stuff ready to jump in their squads and head out. Most of them come over and greet my new partner, eager to find out how the new guy’s first night on duty was. I completely ignore the questions they volley his way, opting to sign off on my paperwork and gather my stuff to go home.

A few of the veterans come over and say hello, like they do most mornings, but for the most part, they let me finish up my work in peace. Besides, they have fresh blood in interrogate and they know they’ll never get the details out of me.

“Ready?” Ramsey asks as we place the last of the papers in the clerk’s bin and head toward the locker room. I stop at my locker and grab my purse and coat, yawning so big it makes my jaw hurt. My partner chuckles from the opposite side of the room.

“I’m not used to nights yet,” I confess, throwing my purse over my shoulder.

Silently, we head out, only to be stopped by my uncle, his very large six-foot- four frame looming in the doorway. “How’d it go?” he asks, his blue eyes watching and assessing first me, then Ramsey.

“Fine,” I reply at the same time my partner says, “Great.”

Uncle Jake looks between the two of us a few times, and I can’t help that old feeling of overprotectiveness bubbling to the surface. I give him a look before he can even say another word. The last thing I want or need is him interrogating Ramsey about nothing. And that’s what is between us, even if I think he’s hotter than the surface of the sun, he’s off-limits.

My partner.

Off. Limits.

“Good,” Uncle Jake finally replies as I start to push by him through the doorway. “I glanced at your paperwork. Good job tonight,” he adds when we spill into the hall.

“Thank you,” I reply professionally.

“She’s a great teacher and an even better partner,” Ramsey throws out there, and damn it if I don’t feel that blush start to spread up my neck and land in my cheeks.

“Off to bed. See you both tonight,” I tell them, trying to school my reaction to the compliment and get home, my bed sounding better and better with each passing minute. I leave them standing in the hallway, chatting about whatever, and make a beeline for the exit.

The cold December morning slaps me square in the face as I step outside. My truck is on the other side of the lot and before I’m halfway there, our new officer steps up beside me. “Thanks for showing me the ropes tonight,” he says quickly, his hands shoved into the pockets of a thin jacket.

“You’re going to need a thicker coat,” I observe, slowing my pace and walking beside him.

“Yeah, I’m afraid my blood isn’t thick enough for this cold,” he says with a small chuckle. The sound reverberates through me, making my blood pump and my body nearly sway in his direction. And don’t get me started on how that small laugh seems to transform his serious face to something much more carefree and alive.

“Oklahoma winters not like this?” I tease as I approach my truck.

“Not even close. Is this your truck?” he asks, seemingly surprised by my choice of vehicle.

“Yeah,” I answer, glancing at the 1987 three-quarter-ton Chevy truck that I pulled from the garage last night. My regular daily driver is a small Malibu, but I prefer the horsepower of my truck.

Ramsey whistles, low and long. “Damn, if that ain’t the sexiest piece of steel I’ve seen since I left Oklahoma, I don’t know what is. Three-fifty V8?” he asks, referring to the size of what’s under the hood.

“Four-fifty-four big block,” I reply, a tinge of pride in my voice.

“Christ, I think I just fell in love with ya,” he deadpans, his eyes locked on the big square truck in the lot. Of course, my mind rewinds and focuses completely on the way he says he fell in love with me, in his uber-sexy southern accent.

My heart tap-dances in my chest as I glance his way. “She runs even better than she looks.”

“A gearhead too? How did I get so lucky in a partner,” he asks, smiling from ear to ear. Even with the short beard, I can see his gorgeous smile.

My own lips turn upward on their own, and I find myself grinning back at him. “My uncles taught me a few things,” I find myself saying with a shrug. “But most of it came from my dad.” That makes me smile. Dad taught me how to change my own oil, spare tire, and check all of the fluids before the age of sixteen. He vowed that if I was going to be out driving, I was going to know how to take care of my vehicle.

“You have a nice smile.” His words have me looking his way, the grin on my face falling.

“Oh. Thanks.”

And cue the blush…

He nods and heads toward an old Chevy Camaro parked two spaces down from mine. “That’s your car?” I ask, hating how stupid I sound. I mean, obviously it’s his if he’s about to climb into it.

“Damn straight,” he replies with a cocky grin. “She’s my girl.”

“What year is she?”

“Sixty-nine.”

“Very nice, Officer Ramsey,” I reply, turning toward my truck cab, the hint of a smile still on my lips.

“Brooklyn?” The sound of my name on his lips sends a shiver down my spine. I turn to find his hazel eyes bright and locked on me.

My heart starts to flop around in my chest and suddenly, I can’t breathe. “Yeah?”

He holds my gaze for several long seconds before the corner of his lip curls upward. “Call me Becker.”

Chapter Four

Becker

As Christmas approaches in just over a week, I find myself finally starting to relax and ease into my new life. The job is going well, even if I’m not quite used to working nights yet. Having Brooklyn as a partner is definitely helping me get through the discomfort of being up when the rest of the world is sleeping.

On my first day off this week, I signed the rental agreement on a partially furnished condo. Now, with keys in hand, Brit and I are ready to move my meager belongings into my new place. It isn’t much, but it’ll do. The place has two bedrooms and one and half baths, plus a single car garage on the end. My side buds against one of the mirror opposite. I haven’t met my neighbor yet, but the realtor assured me that the pair of tenants were quiet and respectable.

Brittany backs her car up to the front stoop and I get to work unloading. Most of it fit in my car, but the new stuff I’ve bought since moving to Rivers Edge didn’t. Plus, we went out this morning and bought two carts full of the basics like garbage cans, cleaning supplies, laundry soap, towels, kitchen necessities, and some Christmas cookie scented candle shit that you put in a warmer. I still have plenty of stuff to get, but at least I have a good start.

I grab the bags from her car and start taking them inside. “I’ll unload and bring it all inside if you want to start unpacking,” I say, making my way to the front door.

“I want to start a load of laundry. You’ll want to shower later, but you have to wash the towels first. You never know who touched them in the store,” Brit says, grabbing a few things before heading into the house.

Lady luck was on my side when I found this place. The kitchen appliances stay, as well as the small kitchen table and chair set, a decent recliner, a dresser and nightstand in the master bedroom, and the washer and dryer. The only thing I’ll need to get from the furniture store is a bed, couch, and television. I think I can handle that.

When I unload my arms, I find my sister in the kitchen, filling the sink with hot, soapy water. She propped her cell phone on the counter, a new country artist I’m unfamiliar with piping through the speaker. “I’m going to start washing your plates and silverware after I get the towels in the washer.”

“No rush on that,” I tell her. “I don’t have any food in the fridge yet anyway. I’ll probably just order a pizza tonight.”

“Oh! If you do, call that Italian restaurant that everyone is raving about. They have the best pizza in town,” she says, unpackaging boxes of plates, bowls, cutlery, glasses, and silverware and piling it all on the counter.

She keeps her head down as she works, which is probably a good thing. Then she doesn’t see me smile. The moment she started talking about the restaurant and pizza, my mind instantly went back to Brooklyn and our first night working together. I had already planned to try their pizza, and why not call it in tonight. I might even brave that margherita pizza she suggested.

I head back outside to finish unloading her car, the cool December air sliding down my spine and causing me to shiver. With my arms laden with more from this morning’s shopping spree, I turn to head back inside when a nearby door opening catches my attention. Glancing up, my eyes connect with the crystal blue ones I can’t stop thinking about.

“Are you following me?” Brooklyn asks, a hesitant grin on her face.

“I was going to ask the same thing.” The bags are awkward, but there’s no way I’m moving right now.

She takes in the bags in my hands and the question weighs heavily in her eyes. “Are you visiting someone here?” She nods toward my new place and glances over my shoulder.

“Not visiting. Moving in.”

Her shock is written all over her face. “Really? You’re renting this condo?”

“Sure am,” I say, watching as she wraps her arms around her chest to ward off the chill. “Wanna come in?”

She stands up tall, squaring her shoulders. “Oh, I shouldn’t.”

I give her a cocky grin, one that used to get me just about whatever I wanted, where the ladies were concerned. “Yeah, probably not, but you know you wanna. Besides, you can come meet my sister. Come on, partner.”

With the bags still in my hands, I head toward the front entry and push open the door. Before I can turn to see if she’s behind me, I feel her brush against me and her jasmine scent assaults my nostrils. Brooklyn holds open the door and gently closes it behind me.

“Did you get lost?” Brit hollers from the sink. When she turns around, her face registers both surprise and elation.

“Brit, this is my partner, Brooklyn Jackson. Officer Jackson, meet my sister, Brittany Ramsey,” I say as I place the rest of the bags on the table.

“Oh, we’ve met. We took a spin class together this fall,” my sister replies, drying her hands on a paper towel and coming over to join us.

“That class was hell,” Brooklyn adds with a serious tone.

“No shit. Worst thirty bucks I ever spent,” Brit grumbles, making both women giggle.

“Apparently, Brooklyn is my new neighbor too,” I chime in, heading over to the fridge to find a bottle of water.

“Oh really?” my sister asks in that singsong voice that lets me know she’s already overthinking this entire situation.

“Well, me and my roommate, Elaina. She works at the immediate care clinic on Main Street, so our schedules are completely the opposite right now.”

“I know her,” Brit replies, the two of them making fast friends. “I work at the clothing boutique next door. We’ve chatted a few times coming and going.”

“How long have you been in Rivers Edge?” Brooklyn asks, following behind my sister as she heads over to continue washing my new stuff. Brooklyn grabs one of the hand towels sitting by the sink and starts drying the dishes. It’s crazy how comfortable it feels to have her here, in my space, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. For a guy who used to pride himself on not getting attached, it’s shocking how much I wouldn’t mind attaching myself to Miss Brooklyn Jackson.

“You don’t have to do that,” I say as I approach the duo.

She shrugs. “I don’t mind. I didn’t have anything else to do today. Maybe some grocery shopping, but that’s it.”

“Oh! Becker needs groceries too. Maybe you two can go together?” my nosy sister offers, waggling her eyebrows behind Brooklyn’s back. I see exactly what she’s doing here, and I shouldn’t like it.

But I do.

“That’s not necessary. I have nothing so I’m sure I’ll be a while,” I reply, even though I’d love to invite her along. Grocery shopping is one of the most domesticated acts we could do, even if all that food is going to two different houses.

Brooklyn shrugs. “Well, we are going to the same place, right? Plus, we live right next door. It does kinda make sense.”

In my mind, I throw my arms in the air in victory. On the outside, I play it cool and shrug. “Up to you. You’re welcome to ride with me. The Camaro has a huge back seat.”

Brooklyn’s blue eyes widen, and it’s only right then that I realize what I said and the implication. While I’d love to get naked in the backseat of my car with my sexy new partner, I don’t think suggesting such a thing is the best way to go about it. We’re stuck in a weird spot right now, partners during the day (or night, to be exact) and neighbors the rest of the time. I could definitely see us being friends, even if the thought of something more has crossed my mind, but I have to tread carefully.

“I meant for groceries.” My own face breaks out in a wolfish grin as she bites her lower lip, narrowing her eyes and giving me that ‘I don’t think I believe you’ look. But then she smiles, her entire face lighting up like a Christmas tree, and that one simple act has my libido raging and my hands tingling to touch her.

The rest of the day is spent organizing and arranging my new place. The girls worked in the kitchen for most of the afternoon, while I tackled my bedroom. Without having a bed, I’ll be sleeping on the couch tonight, but that’s no different than the month or so at my sister’s place. I have to admit though, I’m really looking forward to a bed again. A big one. Lots of room.

Just in case…

Although, there’s a lot to be said for a small bed too. I’ve never been a cuddler, but I just might make an exception for a certain blonde-haired beauty who sleeps on the opposite side of my wall.

“All right, big brother, I’m heading out. You should be all set. If you need help tomorrow at the furniture store, let me know.”

I pull her into my arms, very much aware that Brooklyn is lingering in the background, watching our exchange. “I’m good. I’m going over there early so I can catch an afternoon nap before work tomorrow night.”

She nods as I release her from my hug. Brit grabs her coat and heads for the front door. “Brooklyn, it was good to see you again. I’m sure it won’t be the last time,” she adds, throwing a wink over her shoulder at me and an easy smile at the other woman in the room.

“Good to see you too,” my partner replies, not commenting on the see her again part. There’s actually a pretty good chance they’ll run into each other now, especially if my sister visits often.

We’re left alone a few seconds later, and after I watch my sister pull out of my visitor’s parking space, I return to where Brooklyn stands. “I should head home,” she says, heading to where she hung her coat over one my kitchen chairs.

“I thought we were going grocery shopping,” I reply, not ready to part ways just yet.

She turns back around to face me, her mind clearly running through her options. I open my mouth to give her an out, but she surprises me by saying, “Let’s go.” Brooklyn grabs her coat and heads for the front door. “I’ll meet you at your car. I’m going to grab my purse and make sure my place is locked up.”

When my place is secure, I head out to my car and get the motor started, cranking up the heat. Brooklyn is there a few moments later and climbs into the passenger seat. “Damn, this is a sweet ride,” she whispers, glancing around the interior. I spent a lot of time and even more money fixing up my girl, and the interior is no different. Reupholstered bucket seats and a new dash with gauges, it was all part of the process.

“She sure is,” I reply, lovingly, running a hand along her smooth dash. “Wait until you hear her run.”

Her smile warms the interior better than the heater, and I can’t help my own grin as I throw my baby in reverse and pull out of the garage. We don’t have far to go, but I decide a little small talk, and maybe a little more digging into her life, is in order. “So, you mentioned you’ve lived here your whole life. Family still here?”

“Yep,” she answers, looking out at the landscape of town. Colorful Christmas lights adorn windows and trees and blow-up Santas are poised in yards. “Well, one of my brothers is in college, but my youngest two siblings are still here.”

“So, three siblings?”

“Yep, two younger brothers and a sister.”

“I just have my sister, Brit. Growing up, I was grateful to only have one pest underfoot, but now, I’m wishing I would have had more,” I tell her, thinking back at how I hated having Brit tag along everywhere I went. As soon as I could get away from her, I did. Now, I’m thankful to have a sibling, and even more appreciative to be in the same town as her.

“There’s enough of an age gap between us that I’ve never really minded. Ryder’s about to turn twenty, Dax is sixteen and driving, and Ellie is fifteen. So much drama at that age,” she adds, a humorous chuckle spilling from her lips.

All too soon I’m pulling into the parking lot of the family-owned grocery store. I meet her at the front of the car, and together, we head inside. The warmth of the business slaps me in the face as we step through the automatic doors. We each grab a cart and head toward the produce.

Brooklyn seems to veer off, stopping to check a selection of fresh fruits. It feels weird to just linger beside her as she browses, so I opt to move forward, gathering what food I need to stock my own fridge and cabinets. I start setting potatoes and carrots in my cart, grabbing a bag of sweet peppers too. Those are good on the grill, even in December, wrapped in bacon and filled with cream cheese.

At the end of the aisle, I turn the corner at the dairy products and grab a half-gallon of milk and some pepper jack cheese. For a small-town store, they have a pretty good selection to choose from. I’m getting ready to head down the condiment aisle when I hear my name.

“Officer Ramsey.”

Turning toward the voice, I find my captain in casual weekend attire. “Captain Jackson, good to see you,” I reply, offering my hand.

“This is my wife, Avery, and our two youngest, Dax and Ellie. Ave, meet Becker Ramsey, our newest officer on the force,” he says, waving to the two teenagers standing beside him. The resemblance in the boy is uncanny. Dark hair and dark eyes, while the girl features more of her mother’s lighter, softer qualities.

His wife reaches out her hand to shake. “It’s always nice to meet one of Maddox’s officers,” she says politely, her blue eyes shining brightly.

Something tingles at the back of my neck as I nod to his wife and kids.

The names…

They sound familiar.

Realization slams into me like a Mack truck as my partner rounds the corner, her eyes cast downward at what she has in her hand. “Beck, did you see they have those weird peppers you like on your pizza?”

I don’t even open my mouth. I glance to the woman standing beside my captain, the resemblance almost picture-perfect, from the nose to the hair color to the eyes. Even her smile is the same as her daughter’s. Her eyes light up with laughter as she looks my way, a knowing grin on her pretty face.

But it’s when my eyes land on my captain, I feel the full weight of his stare. They’re all-knowing and even a little accusatory. You know, the look a father gives the man wanting to bone his daughter?

Jackson. Clearly, I underestimated the family connection. I was thinking uncle, since she mentioned she had one on the force.  But Dad? I didn’t see that one coming.

“Daddy. Hi.”

Chapter Five

Brooklyn

Well, shit.

“Brooklyn,” my dad says with a sigh. “Care to explain why you’re at the grocery store with your new partner and know how he takes his pizza?”

My siblings just stand there, smiling like I’ve been busted sneaking back in the house way past curfew. And Mom looks wildly intrigued at finding me at the grocery store with my new partner.

I can’t help it; I roll my eyes at his question. “Becker just moved in next door to me,” I reply in way of answer.

“And that makes you new best friends?” he asks, the vein at his temple sticking out just a smidge and pulsing. I’m just not sure if it’s from my blasé answer or at the fact that I’m friendly with Becker.

“Well, not best friends, but we’re friendly. We were both headed to the same place so we rode together.”

Again, the vein pulsates. “Hmm.” His reply is short and sweet. I can already tell the Great Inquisition of the Year is about to commence. Surprisingly, he doesn’t say anything else, which might have me just as concerned as if he started drilling me for answers.

Answers that even I don’t have.

Are we friends? Sure. We’re partners and partners look out for each other, on and off the job.

Are we more? No. Not really. Do I fantasize about getting him naked and determining if he has any tattoos? Discovering if he’s a briefs or boxers guy? Is his ass as firm as it looks when he bends over in his uniform? Does that beard feel as soft as I imagined it would? Yes to all of those questions, but that doesn’t mean I’m actually going to find out.

Not in this lifetime.

“Well, it was great running into you,” I deflect, grabbing my cart and walking around my family.

“Brooklyn.” My dad’s voice rings loudly through the store.

Stopping, I slowly turn back around to face him. “Yes?”

“Dinner will be served at five tomorrow.” He leaves no room for question.

“But, I have to work,” I start, knowing that I have to get a decent nap in before starting at six.

“You’ll be there on time,” Dad says, his brown eyes intently watching me.

Swallowing hard, I nod. “See you then.” I grab my cart and continue down the aisle. I can hear them speaking behind me, but I choose to ignore them all. I know exactly what’s about to happen at five o’clock tomorrow, and I just pray Dad doesn’t invite my uncles over to join us for dinner.

I keep going, shoving food into my cart that I probably don’t need, my armpits starting to get a little sweaty. I’m not afraid of my dad, not in the least. He would never harm a hair on my head. The problem is actually quite the opposite. From the first time a boy picked me up for prom to the few boyfriends I’ve had since, none of them are ever good enough for me, in my dad’s eyes. He’s overprotective to a fault and has been my entire life. Tomorrow night’s dinner won’t be a fun, enjoyable meal. No, it’ll be full of questions.

So many questions.

“So… Jackson. You mentioned family on the force,” Becker says, leaving the end of his question hanging wide open.

“Yeah, so Captain Jackson? He’s my dad.” I throw two jars of pickles into my cart just to give my hands something to do.

“I kinda gathered that. And I’m assuming that as one of the only females on the force, as well as the captain’s daughter, that’s why you don’t offer up that information to just anyone,” he says, his cart stopping beside me. I can feel his eyes watching.

I finally glance his way. “Yeah. Everyone at the station knows I’m his daughter, but I don’t advertise it. I want to be known as a good officer who understands her job and does it well, not because she’s the boss’s daughter.”

“I would never think that,” he defends quickly. “In fact, I think you’re a great officer, and the fact that your dad is our captain has no merit on my opinion. You obviously studied hard and worked even harder through the academy. You’re here because you can do the job, not because he got you in.”

My gaze is locked on his. That weird connection is back, the weight I carry on my shoulders slowly lifting. It’s comfortable to talk to him, even in the middle of the supermarket, and that’s the scariest of all because the only people I feel like that with are my roommate, and my parents. “I’m terrified they think he got me the job.” My confession hurts, yet is freeing at the same time.

Becker shakes his head. “If they think that, it’s because they don’t know you. They don’t see your dedication, night after night, or the fact you give one hundred and fifty percent in all that you do. It’s in your blood, Brooklyn, and that can’t be bought by a relative or by a name. That’s on you because it’s in you.”

My eyes burn with tears, but I blink them away. Unable to speak through my Sahara-dry throat, I simply nod my head.

“I worked with a man who didn’t have a quarter of the dedication to his job and those he serves as you. One of these days, I’ll tell you about it. What I’m saying is that age doesn’t mean anything. You’re better than most guys I’ve worked with twice your age. Let’s wrap up this shopping trip, shall we?” he says, slowly continuing to casually walk down the aisle, his well-worn jeans molding perfectly to his ass.

We finish quickly, only running into my family once more in the meat aisle. My dad watches us closely, dissecting our every move. We keep it friendly, of course, but make sure to also keep a little more distance, considering we have an audience. Plus, there’s the fact that there’s no reason to be that close.

As we’re unloading the carts into Becker’s car, my dad comes up to me and wraps his arms around my waist. “Love you, Bean,” he whispers, kissing me on the forehead before walking away. My dad has always been affectionate, especially when I was younger. Working together, I’ve strived to make our relationship strictly professional at the station, so these little father/daughter moments are few and far between anymore.

“Love you, Daddy,” I tell him, evoking a smile from his lips. Mom waves and blows me a kiss, while Dax and Ellie barely pull their noses out of their phones long enough to wave goodbye.

“See you tomorrow, sweetheart,” he says firmly, throwing a small wave to both me and to Becker before heading back to where he parked Mom’s SUV.

When my groceries are piled in the trunk, I jump in the passenger seat and warm my fingers by the heater. Becker hops in the seat beside me, his woodsy, masculine scent tickling my nose and rendering my panties useless. The air is still pumping fairly cool, but it gives me something to do, which I’m grateful for. Otherwise, I’m liable to throw my leg over the console and engage in inappropriate, dirty things to the one man I shouldn’t want, yet still do.

The trip back to our building is quick, considering all the extra pre-Christmas traffic. It’s the last weekend before the big holiday, so the streets of Rivers Edge seem to be a little busier than usual.

As Becker pulls into the complex, he stops in front of my condo. “Thanks for shopping with me today,” he says, throwing the shifter into park.

“Sorry you had to deal with my family,” I reply, unbuckling my seat belt and grabbing my purse.

“Your family doesn’t bother me. In fact, it’s a nice little glimpse inside your personal life.”

The front door opens and Elaina pops her head out. “That’s my roommate, Elaina.”

Becker nods. “Well, come on. I’ll help you get your stuff inside.”

“It’s not much. I can get it,” I argue, stepping out into the late afternoon chill.

The trunk is popped and I start retrieving my bags before Becker even has a chance to come back and help. By the time he’s there, I have most of my things in my hands. He insists on taking the last two bags, basically ensuring he’s coming inside with me. I try not to mentally freak out that my sexy new partner will soon be inside my condo, but it still happens. Especially as he steps up on the front step and motions for me to enter first. I can’t help but wonder if Elaina picked up her mess from the living room.

“You must be the new neighbor I’ve heard about,” Elaina says, a coy little smile on her face.

“That’d be me,” Becker says, setting the bags down on the table next to mine. “And you must be Elaina.” He reaches out his hand, and I swear Elaina visibly swoons a little in his direction.

“Nice to meet you.” She giggles (actually, giggles), her cheeks turning a lovely shade of light pink.

“Well, thanks for helping me carry these inside. I’m sure you’ll want to get yours inside,” I interrupt my roommate’s fangirling, placing my hands on Becker’s upper arms to gently give him a little nudge toward the front door. In doing so, I wrap my arms around hard, muscular biceps that flex beneath my touch.

My wide eyes move to his hazel ones. The rich gold color a more vivid shade of green now. They’re dilated, even under the dim fluorescent lighting, I can see something brewing in them that leaves me both breathless and excited. They’re full of yearning, or at least, that’s my interpretation.

“Well, I better get my stuff in the freezer,” he says, not taking his eyes off me for one second.

Something deep inside my brain tells me to throw my arms around him and kiss those full, slightly chapped lips, but I don’t. I hold my position and merely nod in agreement. “Thanks again,” I add, my voice a little pitchy and breathy.

He moves a step closer, his scent wrapping around me like a warm, familiar blanket. He holds my gaze, his lips slightly open and so close. It would only require one of us taking another small step forward and we’d be touching. “It was my pleasure, Brooklyn. Thanks for spending the day with me.” He throws a wave at my roommate, who’s standing there, staring with her mouth gaped open, as he turns and heads toward the front door.

“Bye,” I whisper, trying to keep my eyes from falling down to where his jeans mold to his ass, but failing.

When his ass stops moving, I glance up, only to find those same hazel eyes laced with humor, his eyebrows arched in question. A slow smile spreading across his lips as he replies, “Bye, Brooklyn.” He throws me a wink, you know, just to let me know that he totally busted me ogling his rear, and heads out the door.

My heart is pounding in my chest as the front door closes. I’ve never wanted someone to kiss me more than I wanted Becker to right then. Probably a good thing he didn’t, though. Partner, remember? Talk about gray and blurred lines. Kissing him would essentially be like jumping so far over the line that I can’t even see it anymore.

Sighing, I turn my attention back to my groceries. Before I even have the bread pulled from the bag, I feel the weight of Elaina’s stare. When I glance up, her jaw is hinged open and she’s fanning her face. I can tell exactly what’s about to happen.

“Holy shit, girl. You need to spill everything. Now.”

Chapter Six

Becker

I’ve never wanted to kiss a woman more than I wanted to kiss her.

As I toss my food onto my counter, I chastise myself. There’s the fact that I really, really wanted to kiss her, but knew that I shouldn’t. The problem is the wanting outweighs the shouldn’t. The contentment and elation I feel when she’s around is a welcomed change from the remorse and uncertainty from before.

Before in Durant.

Finding out my captain is her father was a shocking revelation. I wasn’t kidding when I said I thought he was family, but father wasn’t what I was expecting. They look nothing alike, but the love and adoration in his eyes when he said goodbye was all I needed to see to know that man is definitely her dad, resemblance be damned.

I have to admit, meeting her family in the supermarket wasn’t what I had planned for my afternoon. Her siblings seemed like your typical teenagers with their faces stuck in their electronics, and her mother, well, her mom could probably be easily confused for her sister. The resemblance was definitely there, but so were a few other things. Her mannerisms, her smile.

As I unload the bag of potatoes and carrots in the fridge, I find a small bag of kiwi fruit. There’s also a few bananas and peaches, things I didn’t buy. That can only mean one thing. I have one of Brooklyn’s bags. Tossing the rest of the food haphazardly in the fridge and freezer, I grab the extra bag and my keys and head next door.

The air slaps me upside the face, something I’m just not sure I’ll get use to. Midwest winters can kiss my ass. I walk next door and knock. It only takes a few seconds before Brooklyn appears. She seems shocked to find me on her doorstep, but more than that, her eyes sparkle with desire. It’s evident in the way her breathing hitches and she licks her lips. Suddenly, all I want to do is kiss those delicious lips.

“Is everything okay?” she asks, not moving back to let me in.

“Fine, yeah. I found one of your bags,” I reply, holding up the fruit.

The door falls open a little more as she grabs the bag, her hand brushing against mine. Without warning, I reach for the strand of blonde hair that has fallen to cover part of her face. It’s smooth and silky between my fingers and makes my hand tingle for more.

My eyes fall to hers as my hand gently slides to the nape of her neck. We both move at the same time, each stepping into the other’s personal space. That sweet scent of her lotion engulfs me, all blood flowing directly to my dick. Fingers entwined in her long locks, her fingers come up to rest on my chest. I feel the burn as they dance slowly upward and snake around my neck, bringing her body flush against mine.

Our eyes are locked as I slowly lower my head. There’s no hesitation, no question. Only desire. Only need. Only resolve that I want this kiss as much as my next breath. She’s not my partner, not my boss’s daughter. She’s the woman I want – have wanted since the moment I first laid eyes on her.

Her breath hitches moments before my lips touch hers. They’re warm and soft, just as I’ve imagined them for the last week and a half. My lips coax hers open, her tongue meeting mine in a slow but steady dance. I feel her hands grip my neck and slide into my hair, her nails biting into my scalp. All I can fucking think about is those damn nails, digging into my flesh. It drives me absolutely crazy.

My own hand grips her hair gently, yet with just the right amount of pull. My other hand moves to her back, pressing her body into my own. She aligns beautifully against me, as if her body was made for mine.

“Brooklyn, who’s there?” I hear just over her shoulder.

I release her lips and my hold on her and allow her to step away. Instantly, I miss the feel of her pressed against me, and almost reach for her. “It’s Becker,” she replies, her words a pant and maybe a little pitchy.

“Ohhh, Becker,” Elaina singsongs, making Brooklyn roll her blue eyes.

Smiling down at her, I brush that same strand of hair that started this whole front door kiss. “Don’t forget to put your fruit in the fridge.”

Her eyes dart down, the bag of fruit discarded on the floor. They’re probably bruised and battered at this point. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” I reply, and because I can’t stop myself, I lean forward, inhaling the subtle scent of jasmine and vanilla. I place my lips on her cheek, letting them linger a beat longer than I probably should, but I don’t care. I’m committing the feel of her skin against my lips to memory. “Goodbye, Brooklyn,” I whisper as I slowly pull away.

“Bye.” Her eyes are wide as she watches me turn and walk away. It’s the last thing I want to do, but I don’t suppose throwing her over my shoulder and finding the nearest bed is appropriate either.

At least not yet.

I can feel her eyes on me as I head back to my side of the condo, a little extra pep in my step. I don’t turn around as I slip inside, the taste of her skin still seared on my lips. I can’t help but smile as I close and lock my front door with memories of our kiss still playing on repeat in my mind.

Yes, it was one kiss, but I can already tell you one kiss won’t be enough.

It may never be enough.

*****

We’ve been hopping from the moment we got in the car and radioed dispatch that we’re on duty. I’m driving tonight, the first time my training partner has allowed me behind the wheel, and we’re heading to an accident. The other team is onsite, but called in for help just a few moments ago.

When we arrive, we find both squads there, as well as two ambulances. We already know there are three cars involved, with injuries, and one suspected of driving under the influence. One man sits in the back of a squad car, his head hung in remorse. On the other side of the scene, a young mother cries with her son, a boy of only three or four. Brooklyn jumps from the car and makes her way toward the pair.

“Sam, what happened?” she asks as she approaches, me hot on her heels.

The woman looks up, tears staining her pretty face. “Oh, Brooklyn! It happened so fast,” she sniffles. “We were driving through the intersection when that truck came barreling through. I didn’t have time to stop. It plowed into us and sent us spinning into another car.”

I glance down at the boy, the EMT working on cleaning up his arm. Brooklyn reaches over. I think she’s going to comfort the mother further, but instead, I’m surprised when she places her hand on the EMT’s shoulder. He glances her way, giving a small smile, but then turns his attention back on the little boy. Brooklyn removes her hand and returns her attention to the mother. They talk about the accident, about the minor injuries they’ve both sustained, and the impending trip to the hospital to get check out.

“I’m going to head over and talk to the other team,” I tell her, wanting to cross that narrow line between professional and personal. We’ve been on several calls tonight, but this one has her rattled. Something in her voice has me ready to toss aside the badge and wrap my arms around her.

That’s why I have to walk away.

Or I’m liable to do just that.

I find Sargent Hall over by his squad. “What can we do?” I ask, noticing the older man’s tired eyes keep checking the back of his car.

He sighs heavily. “This is all sorts of messed up,” he says with the shake of his head. “Ethan here ran a red light and broadsided the Tomin car. Mom and Tyler, the young boy, are going to be fine, just a few bumps and bruises from the belts and airbags. I’d like you to accompany them to the hospital and get her statement, if you can. I’m taking Mr. Gage to the station and booking him on suspected DUI. Hamm is going to stay here and clear the scene.”

“The third car?” I ask when the wrecker appears on scene.

“Sixty-eight-year-old male. Seems fine from the accident itself, but on his way to the hospital for an apparent heart attack.”

“No shit?”

Hall nods and glances back at the car. “Ethan lives down the street from me. He just broke up with his girlfriend and was apparently enjoying himself at Jack’s Pub. Against his better judgment, he got behind the wheel.”

I glance at the young man, his tear-filled eyes glancing our way once more. “Never the right decision when alcohol is involved,” I reply, turning to leave Hall to do his job.

When I get back to where Brooklyn is, the EMTs are loading the young boy and his mother into the back of the ambulance. “Mostly just precaution, but they’re going to get checked out,” she says, watching as the man from earlier secures the door.

“You headed to the hospital?” he asks, turning and giving his full attention to my partner. His hair is sandy blond, with streaks of gray and wire glasses perched on his nose.

“We’ll follow you,” I answer, causing the man to look my way. He seems to take me in for the first time, assessing me for some reason, before giving a brief nod.

As the man heads around to the driver’s side of the ambulance, Brooklyn and I make our way to our car. “Busy night,” I say as I pull out, lights off, and make my way through town.

“It is. Must be a full moon or something,” she says, casually, glancing up at the night sky. The car fills with tension, probably because neither one of us have acknowledged the kiss from yesterday afternoon. Instead, we’re both in work mode, which is great, except the fact that I can feel the nervousness trailing behind.

And the fact that I’d love to kiss her again.

“Do you know the victim and her son?” I ask, trying to make small-talk and adjusting my suddenly too-tight pants. I’ve learned over the last week and a half that I love talking to her, finding out about her life. The problem is the more she talks, the more I like her.

“Samantha and I went to school together. She married her high school sweetheart and they have Tyler, who’s three.” She doesn’t elaborate anymore, which is fine, since we’re already nearing the hospital. I file that tidbit of detail about Brooklyn’s life away, and get ready to work. I pull under the awning and follow behind as she heads inside, the delectable view of her ass keeping me company as we hit the sterile hallways.

We make our way to the emergency department and find Samantha and her son immediately. The nurse is taking care of the bump on her head, while the boy watches with wide, scared eyes. I reach into my pocket and find the small, plastic badge the department keeps on hand for promotional purposes. They come in handy for situations like this.

“Hey, Champ. How are you feeling?” I ask the young boy, crouching down in front of him and getting on his level.

Tyler shrugs his shoulders. “Okay,” he whispers softly.

I glance over and find Brooklyn talking to Samantha, clearly finishing up the statement that we started at the scene. She looks my way for a second, but doesn’t say anything. I go ahead and have a seat on the floor beside the hard, plastic chair that Tyler sits in.

“Tonight must have been pretty scary, huh?”

He turns his expressive eyes to me again and nods. “My mommy cried.”

“I bet she did. But it was probably because she was glad you were safe and not hurt. I heard you were really brave tonight.”

“I wanted to cry,” he starts, keeping his gaze locked on mine.

“And that’s okay, Champ. When something like that happens, it’s okay to shed a few tears. Car accidents are scary and, sometimes, bring out all sorts of feelings in us all.”

“That’s what my mommy said,” he whispers, glancing to where to nurse finishes cleaning up Samantha’s superficial wounds.

I hop up to my knees and pull the badge from my pocket. “I have something very special for you tonight, Champ. For being brave, even when you were scared, I’m making you a deputy,” I state, holding out my hand with the plastic badge in it.

Tyler’s eyes widen in shock as he gazes down at the star.  “Weally?”

I can’t help but smile. “Yes, really. Here, let me pin it on your shirt.” Tyler jumps up off the chair and stands tall and proud as I pin the little toy prop on his long-sleeved Tyrannosaurs Rex T-shirt. “There ya go,” I say, patting him on his shoulder. “Now, wearing this badge is an honor, okay? It means you have to always try to be a good boy and listen to your mom and dad. Can you do that?”

Tyler nods emphatically. “I can do it. I’m a good listener.”

Again, a wide smile spreads across my face. “I’m happy to hear that, Officer Tyler.”

Just then, a man comes barreling around the corner, a panicked look on his face. “Tyler! Sam!” he exclaims as he races toward his family.

“Daddy!” Tyler turns and is in the man’s arms a second later.

I stand and step aside, watching as the relief washes over the man’s face. Receiving those calls is never easy, even when you’re assured that your family is fine. It isn’t until they’re safe and in your arms again that you truly start to believe that it is, in fact, okay.

Movement out of the corner of my eye has me turning toward my partner.  She shoulder bumps me as she stands there, watching as her friend tells her husband about the accident. “You were pretty great with Tyler,” she says.

The compliment has warmth rushing up my cheeks. Shrugging, I respond, “It was nothing.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Ramsey. Underneath that tough exterior and badass beard, I can see that soft spot you have there for kids. You’re a pretty good guy and a great officer.”

I don’t reply, not right away. The lump in my throat makes it difficult to answer anyway. When she closes her notebook and slides the paperwork in her clipboard, I finally ask, “Badass beard?”

She just grins.

“Did you get everything you need for her statement?”

Brooklyn nods. “Yeah. It was as suspected. She signed off and they’re about ready to head home.”

“Let’s head out then,” I reply, placing my hand at the base of her spine and leading her out of the small room. The moment we hit the hallway, we find the man from the ambulance earlier.

He turns our way, his eyes moving to where my hand rests on her lower back. Instantly, I drop my hand and his eyes narrow at the movement. I don’t know why I feel like I’m under a microscope, but I do, and it’s not the first time either.

“Hey,” Brooklyn says, walking up to the man and placing a kiss on his cheek. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

“Bean,” he whispers, pulling her small frame into his much taller one as he hugs her tight.

“I thought I asked you to stop calling me that,” she replies, rolling her eyes and narrowing them at the man.

“And I thought I told you we’d never quit,” he quips, giving her a warm smile.

Brooklyn sighs. “Uncle Will, this is my partner, Officer Ramsey. Ramsey, my uncle Will.”

“Nice to meet you,” I say, extending my hand his way. He waits a beat, still assessing my every move, before finally reaching out and taking it. His hand is firm, maybe a little too firm, as he shakes my hand.

“Good to meet you too,” Will says, watching me like a hawk. Finally, he turns his attention back to his niece. “You coming to Grandma and Grandpa’s on Friday?”

“Of course I am. It’s Christmas,” my partner says, throwing another eye roll that does weird things to my groin area, which I’m struggling to keep under control at the moment. Even with the watchdog’s eyes boring into me, my cock stirs every time Brooklyn gets a little defiant.

“You should bring your new partner here. I’m sure everyone would love to meet him.” There’s something in the smile he gives Brooklyn, something that screams Red Alert!

“Uhh, yeah, I don’t think so,” she replies, quickly shutting him down.

“Why not? You’re new in town, right? Do you have anywhere to go for Christmas?” Will asks me, putting me directly in the hot seat.

I almost lie, and tell him I have somewhere to go, but think better of it. “No, nowhere to go.”

“See?” he says, victoriously, to my partner. “Nowhere to go.” Then he turns his eyes back my way. “Come spend Christmas with the Stevenses. We’d love to have you.”

“Oh, uhh, thank you,” I reply, running my hand over the back of my neck.

“Well, I better let you two get back to keeping the streets of Rivers Edge safe. Have a good night,” Will says, smiling like the cat that ate the canary.

“Night,” Brooklyn mumbles, turning and heading to the parking lot.

I run to catch up with her. “What was that about?”

“Nothing.”

“It didn’t feel like nothing,” I say, almost reaching for the passenger door to help her in, but then I remember this isn’t a date and I can’t do that. Yes, Brooklyn is a female, but I must treat her like any other officer, male or female. And that means leaving my chivalry at home.

For now.

“My family can be a little…extreme,” she finally answers before getting into the car.

“Define extreme,” I state, giving her my full attention as the chill starts to sweep into my thin blood.

She glances up, as if looking for the right words. “Well, they can be…overprotective.”

I snort. “Overprotective? Like super tight grips during handshakes?” I ask, thinking back to when Will squeezed my hand.

“No, like bringing flamethrowers to scare my high school prom date,” she mumbles as she climbs into the car and shuts the door.

I’m left standing there, partly wondering what the hell I’m getting myself into on Christmas, and the other part intrigued. Sure, I should probably run the other direction from a family that thinks flamethrowers are normal, but then again, a bigger part of me is interested in spending more time with Brooklyn.

Flamethrowers be damned.

Besides, no one would bring a flamethrower to Christmas, right?

Chapter Seven

Brooklyn

Just after two in the morning, our radio calls in a 10-16, domestic disturbance. “10-4, dispatch. What’s the location?” I reply into the radio. There’s no need to write down the address, since I already know where we’re going. “Take a left up here at the Shell station. We’re headed to a place a few blocks off Main Street,” I add.

I’m already sliding out of the cab as Ramsey radios in our arrival. The argument from the house is loud in the silence of the winter night, and the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I hate it when they argue.

I feel Ramsey’s presence as I approach the door. I wait until he’s in position and raise my hand, rapping on the old wooden door. A quick glance to my left shows a few lights on in the house next door and someone peeking through the blinds, most likely the 911 caller.

“Who’s d’er?” a rough, raspy voice hollers through the door.

“Rivers Edge PD. Open up, Harold,” I state, my hand poised above my service weapon. We’ve never had to draw them, but you never know when a situation will go from controlled to not in a matter of seconds.

“We’re fine. Go away,” he yells, coughing. I can practically hear his long drag from the cigarette hanging from his mouth.

“We’re not fine, you big asshole!” Carol screams, followed by the sound of something falling and breaking.

Ramsey moves, but I hold up my hand. “Open the door, Harold,” I insist.

Just when I’m about to knock hard again, the door cracks open. “Everything’s fine, girl. Just a little disagreement.”

“Can Carol come out, Harold? I’d like to speak to her too.”

“She’s busy.”

“I’m right here, you big dumbass.” Carol rounds the corner and steps into view. She appears completely unharmed, though has mascara streaked down her cheek. Harold and Carol are frequent recipients of calls from the PD. Ninety percent of the time, it’s a domestic argument, with the other ten percent being drunk and disorderly.

“Evening, Carol,” I state, keeping a close watch on Harold in my peripheral vision.

“Hey, Bean. Sorry about the call. I suppose it was that nosy lady next door again, huh?” Carol asks, taking a long drag from her cigarette.

“I’m not sure who called it in. All I know is there have been complaints of yelling and arguing. It’s well after two in the morning,” I say, leaving my statement open.

“It’s that nosy bitch across the street, I’m sure. Bitch needs to mind her own business,” Harold grumbles, wiping the sweat from his brow. Considering it’s about thirty degrees outside, I find it a little weird that he’s sweating as much as he is.

“Carol, are you okay to stay here or would you like to call someone?” I ask, knowing that half the time, their arguments end with her staying at her sister’s. Of course, she goes back home the next day, and the cycle continues to spin around and around.

“I’m not staying with this asshole. I’m leaving,” she states pointedly, turning to head toward their bedroom.

“Now, wait just a minute,” Harold hollers and turns to follow.

“No, sir, please step outside with my partner and me,” I say to Harold, nodding toward the entryway.

“I’m not going with you. I’m gunna talk to my wife,” he argues, stumbling into the wall.

“Harold,” I start, but stop when he spins around and takes a wide swing. I anticipate the move, even though I had really hoped it would never escalate to this, and counter by grabbing his arm and spinning until he’s on his stomach on the ground, me straddling his back.

I have a strong hold on his arms, but it’s a struggle to keep him from bucking me off. “Dammit, Harold,” I spit, reaching for my handcuffs with my left hand and keeping a hold of the angry man with my right. “You have the right to remain silent,” I start, just as he thrusts his head upward and pushes back with all his might. The momentum knocks me off his back and sends me tumbling into the wall, my head rapping against the old, faded drywall.

Before I can open my eyes, I hear the briefest scuffle, followed by the reading of the Miranda Rights. Even though my head is pounding, I ignore the throb and jump up to assist my partner. The bump to the head was more of a shock than anything else, but I can already feel the headache coming on. I look over and see Ramsey cuffing Harold and helping him stand.

Carol comes back into the room, her wide eyes frantic as she takes in the scene before her. “What’d he do?”

“Took a swing at my partner,” Ramsey replies, a definite bite in his tone. “He’s under arrest for assault,” he adds as he leads him from the house.

“Oh, Harold, you big stupid idiot,” Carol cries into her hands.

“Carol, would you like to call your sister to come stay with you?” I ask, taking a step her way.

Her tear-filled eyes glance my way. “He’s not always like this, you know. When he drinks,” she starts, but stops, shaking her head. “I’ll call Vicky,” she adds, referring to her sister.

I leave her alone and head outside. Ramsey finishes relaying the details of our stop to dispatch and hops in the driver’s seat. He’s silent as we head to our small jail, the tension radiating off his body like the lights on a Christmas tree. I can practically see the glow.

“Bean, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to swing at you.” Harold’s voice is small, reserved, and full of remorse.

I know he didn’t mean to do it, but unfortunately, he did. And it was witnessed by another officer. It can’t be ignored or swept under the rug. He’ll spend the night in lock-up and go before the judge tomorrow. Hopefully, the ADA will go easy on him, considering he’s never escalated to this kind of assault before, but that’s not my call.

As the end of our shift approaches, exhaustion sets in. I was able to find a few Tylenol in one of the desk drawers, which definitely helped with the dull ache in my head. Ramsey has barely spoken two words to me since the call, which made for a swell remainder of our shift. Nothing says fun like your partner barely speaking to you. And to top it off, I don’t even know why he’s so angry. The tick of his jaw and the tightness around his eyes lets me know he’s working through some shit in his head, so I let him be.

When the shift finally ends, I run smack dab into another overprotective Stevens male in my life. Uncle Jake is standing beside my desk, his hands perched on his hips, as he waits for me to say something.

“Good morning,” I reply, glancing around and finding everyone else scurrying off as quickly as they can. It’s like they know there’s about to be a battle and they want nothing to do with it.

“Office. Now.”

Exhaling loudly, I take a quick glance around the room for Ramsey, but don’t find him. Even my own partner took off running. Awesome.

“What the hell happened?” he demands as soon as I cross the threshold.

“I detailed the call in my report,” I start, standing tall.

“I read the report and listened to the playback on the call.”

“Okay?” I ask, clearly confused about why he’s so angry with me. I did everything by the book.

“Are you okay?” he whispers, his voice finally dropping and, if I’m not mistaken, cracking just a little. He’s not a superior speaking to his subordinate. He’s an uncle talking to his niece.

“I’m fine, Uncle Jake.”

He flops down in the chair. “Do you know what it’s like to get a call saying that my niece was assaulted?”

I roll my eyes. “I wasn’t assaulted. Harold took a swing at me, but I was ready for it. He missed by a mile, and I put him on his ass.”

The corner of Uncle Jake’s lips ticks upward. “I heard.”

“You did?”

He nods. “Yeah, I talked to Ramsey before he left.”

“Oh.”

“He said you handled yourself well, but I don’t like that the big guy was able to buck you off like that. How’s the head?”

“It’s fine. Two Tylenol and I’m all good.”

He stares at me from across the desk, the relief evident in his face and his eyes. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

Giving him a wide smile. “I can handle myself.”

He chuckles. “Don’t I know it. You remind me often enough,” he grumbles. “You’re so much like your father that it hurts sometimes.”

I can’t help it, I smile proudly. There’s no better compliment.

“Get out of here and get some rest. If your head starts to bother you, go to the ER and get checked out. I don’t like that you bumped it. Maybe I should call Will and Carmen and have them check on you,” he says, jumping up and coming around the desk. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of that before now. I’ll call them,” he adds, reaching for his cell phone.

“Don’t you dare. I’m fine,” I insist, touching the side of my head that connected with the wall. “Barely a bump.”

He watches me for several seconds before nodding his head. “Fine, but if you start to feel any pain or discomfort, call me. Call Will. Call the fucking president of the hospital, okay?”

Again, I roll my eyes. “Fine.”

Then, he envelopes me in his big body and squeezes me tightly. “Fuck, I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Thank you, Uncle Jake,” I whisper, pulling him down and kissing his scruffy cheek. “Tell Aunt Erin and the kids I said hello.” With a quick wave goodbye, I’m out the door and heading to my truck.

The drive home is short, thankfully, and the sun is just coming up when I pull into the driveway. My head is hurting just a little, but I wasn’t about to tell my overprotective uncle that. He definitely would have had me admitted for observation in the hospital before I even had a chance to argue.

I park my truck in the garage and quietly climb out. Elaina will be getting up soon for work, but I always try to be respectful and as silent as possible to not wake her before her alarm goes off. As I turn to close the garage door, a figure in the doorway has me screaming.

“It’s me,” Ramsey says, his voice gravelly as he holds his hands up in surrender.

“Shit, Becker, you scared the crap out of me,” I mumble, my hand over my heart as it races in my chest. “What are you doing here?”

“I need to speak to you.”

His posture is stiff, even though his hands are casually shoved in his pockets. He’s anything but casual right now. “Umm, okay. Come inside the garage. It’s freezing out there,” I say, motioning him inside the garage so I can close the door.

When it’s completely down, I turn to face him. Now, I can see the worry lines and the streaks of fury in his gorgeous hazel eyes. “What the hell did you think you were doing?” he harshly whispers, taking a few steps until we’re face-to-face.

“Excuse me?”

“This morning. You intentionally put yourself in the line of fire. You could have been hurt,” he growls, his nostrils flaring ever so slightly with his anger.

“I could have been hurt? I intentionally put myself in the line of fire every day, Becker. That’s the job.” Now I’m pissed. With my hands on my hips, I stare him down, refusing to give even an inch. Hell, a centimeter.

“I know what the job is, Brooklyn, but that doesn’t mean you need to be so fucking cavalier about it.”

“Cavalier? Are you fucking kidding me, Becker? I did everything right this morning.”

“Yeah, until he threw you off of him like you weighed nothing. You slammed your fucking head into the wall.”

Another small step forward. “I bumped my head on the wall, and it’s not my fault he outweighed me by fifty pounds.”

He runs his hands through his hair. “What if I hadn’t been there? Huh? What if he would have gotten the jump on you and really hurt you?”

“He wouldn’t have done that,” I reassure. Deep down, I truly believe Harold wouldn’t have hurt me.

“You don’t know that.”

“You’re right, I don’t. But I was trained the same way you were, asshole. I would have done whatever it took to get myself out of any situation that transpired.”

He growls, again. Like a wild animal kinda growl. It’s surprisingly hot. “I’ve never wanted to spank someone as much as I want to spank you right now.”

“Really? Is that how you treated your other partner?” I seethe through clenched teeth.

“Hell no. I’ve never wanted to spank my old partner’s ass and then fuck him senseless.” His eyes are wide with rage, but I realize then it’s not directed at me. It’s the situation. Becker isn’t angry at me, per se, he’s pissed that I was hurt. He’s pissed that something happened to me, right under his nose. He’s pissed that he wasn’t able to stop it.

I’ve never wanted a man as much as I want him.

Right now.

Without even thinking, I throw my arms around his neck and plaster my lips to his. He stumbles, but only for a second. Becker easily catches my weight, turning and pressing me firmly into the fender of my truck. His lips are urgent as his tongue presses into the seam of my mouth. The moment I gasp, his tongue delves inside, stroking hard against my own. I feel his hands gripping my ass, pulling me against his hard body as if he can’t get me close enough. I jump up and wrap my legs around his waist, his body easily supporting my weight.

“Fuck, the thought of something happening to you makes me want to lose my mind,” he murmurs against my neck, his beard scraping ever so deliciously against my skin. I grind my center against his erection, evoking a loud animalistic roar from his chest. He turns his fiery hazel eyes on me, the want and desire as evident as the nose on his face. “Tell me to stop, Brooklyn. Tell me and I’ll go back to my own place and we’ll never speak of this again.”

My brain might be a little foggy with lust, I know damn well that I’m not about to turn him away. Not today. Not ever. I want him too badly. “Don’t stop,” I whisper, rotating my hips and finding sweet friction against my clit.

He stares at me for just a few seconds before returning his lips to mine. The kiss if full of urgency, need, and maybe even a bit of danger. There’s definitely something to be said for sleeping with your partner, especially after just over a week on the job. But I can’t seem to stop, even if I wanted to. There’s this pull, this connection to Becker Ramsey that I can’t fight anymore.

I don’t want to fight it.

He sets me down on wobbly legs, my fingers instantly diving for his shirt. Sometime between getting home and coming over to my place, he managed to shower and change into a Henley shirt and a pair of worn blue jeans. I push the shirt up, exposing rock-hard abs and a chiseled chest, the kinda thing girls everywhere dream about.

Becker makes quick work of unfastening the small buttons on my uniform top. The moment he has them all released, he rips it open in a flurry of desire. My fingers trace his perfectly defined abs as the release of Velcro echoes in the small garage space. He pulls my bulletproof vest up and over my head, tossing it somewhere behind him. The next thing to go is my cami, which is pulled upward, exposing my blue and white satin bra.

“Fuck,” he groans, running coarse fingers over my pebbled nipples. “I’ve been dying to taste you for so damn long.”

“Yes, please,” I beg, arching my chest in his direction as my hands dive for the fly of his jeans.

With his pants released, he focuses on relieving me of my own pants. My service belt is removed and carefully dropped, followed quickly by my standard blue uniform pants. “These pants drive me crazy,” he states, pushing them around my hips and watching them fall to the concrete floor.

“I have to admit, that’s the first time anyone has ever complimented these ugly pants,” I breathe, pushing his own jeans around his hips and down his thighs. And holy mother of God, those thighs. They’re thick like tree trunks with corded muscles in every which direction.

But that only holds my attention for a second.

Because now I can see exactly what my partner has been packing in his pants, and I’m not talking about his nine-millimeter service pistol. I’m talking about the very large, very thick, very hard cock pointed at me. “Commando?” I ask, my eyes dancing back up to his.

“I was in a hurry. When I heard you pull in, I just threw on an old pair of pants,” he answers as my hand wraps around his shaft, gently stroking from root to tip. He groans in pleasure, his eyes rolling back in his head. “Fuck, your hand feels amazing.”

Using my toes, I kick off my shoes. The moment they’re gone, Becker is there, ripping the pant legs from my feet and discarding my uniform bottoms behind him. I’m left standing there in matching panties, my cami pushed up and exposing my bra, with my uniform top still hanging oddly from my shoulders.

When his lips press to mine, there’s an urgency mixed with the heat. My body tingles, begging for his hands, but they seem occupied. That’s when I hear the foil packet tearing. I rip my lips from his and glance down. “You’re awfully prepared. Were you a Boy Scout?”

Becker snorts. “Actually, yes, yes I was, but that’s beside the point. As I was flying out the door, I grabbed my wallet and keys so I wasn’t locked out. I just happened to have a condom in there.” I watch as he rolls the protection into place and gazes up at me. His eyes are all-consuming, yet searching. I can see the question as he brings his hand up and cups my cheek. I’m not sure I could speak over the dryness in my throat, so I nod my agreement. I need him to know I want this.

Want him.

Understanding setting in, he reaches around and grips my ass, lifting me against him. My legs instantly wrap around his waist and help hold me in position. His cock is pinned between my body and his, and not at all where I need it most. I start to wiggle, gyrating against it, hoping like hell he’ll catch on.

He runs his nose along my neck, his warm breath tickling my skin and sending goose bumps racing over my exposed body. My hands grip the back of his shirt and graze over heated flesh. His back is crazy-hard and makes me want to explore it later—with my tongue. But right now, there’s an ache between my legs that only he can quench.

Becker adjusts me slightly and slips his hands between our bodies. Thick, rough fingers slide along my clit, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through my blood. A groan spills from my lips as he presses the cold steel of my truck into my back. “You’re so wet,” he whispers, his words tight and full of anticipation.

“Please,” I beg, needing to feel him inside me more than I need my next breath.

Slowly, he moves aside my panties and slides two fingers inside of my body. The stretch almost burns as he tries to get me ready for him. My entire body is a live wire of electricity, the crave of him outweighing the slight discomfort of his fingers. I’ve had exactly two sexual partners in my life, both in college with long-term relationships, but neither of them compared to the size of Becker’s thick fingers, and even thicker cock.

And then he’s moving, finally lining himself up with me. I don’t even care that my panties are stretched and will probably need tossing after this. He keeps them to the side and I can feel the nudge of his cock, my muscles tightening with anticipation. “Relax, Bee,” he whispers, taking my lips with his. This kiss is a bit gentler and helps me relax in his arms. The moment I do, however, he slowly thrusts upward, filling me completely.

His lips are glued to mine as we both moan in pleasure. The burn is quickly replaced by pleasure as he rocks back and presses forward again. “Oh my God,” I whisper, my head falling back.

“So fucking tight,” he grunts, splaying his hands across my ass and holding me still.

I can feel the twitch of his cock as my muscles loosen and adjust to his size. His lips descend on my neck, sucking hard against the sensitive skin. I pull myself up, gyrating my hips and taking him even deeper.

“Fuck, you gotta stop moving, Bee, or I’m gonna blow,” he grunts, trying to hold me still.

“Please,” I beg, not really sure where this voice is coming from. I need more, plain and simple.

Becker’s hands tighten. I’m sure I’ll have two large handprints on my ass later, but I don’t care. All I care about now is claiming the orgasm that’s on the horizon. He carefully pulls out, connects his hazel eyes to mine, and slams forward. Shockwaves of pure bliss surge through my body, but he gives me no time to think. He pulls back and does it again, over and over again, pushing me closer and closer to release. With each thrust of his hips, he tickles that spot inside my body I swore was a myth.

I moan, my legs clamping around his hips as he pistons inside of me. His hands on my ass move, somehow spreading me apart just enough that he hits a different angle. “Becker,” I gasp, my eyes wide as my release starts to take hold. I throw my head back, bright white lights of euphoria sweeping through me, as he pounds into my pussy, drawing out every bit of release he can.

Then, he finally grunts, thrusts his hips hard and lets go. I can feel every jerk and pulse of his orgasm as my muscles contract around him. I sag in his arms, my body suddenly too heavy to hold myself up. “I got ya,” he whispers, holding me tightly against him as his lips press against my heated neck. They’re tender as he places open-mouthed kisses along my rapidly beating pulse point.

After a few seconds, which in reality is probably a few minutes, Becker starts to let me down. My legs are shaky as hell as blood starts to flow to my lower extremities. Exhaustion is knocking at the door. The adrenaline from work, the argument, and the sex that followed is rapidly vacating my body, and I know it’ll be mere minutes before I’m out like a light.

As if sensing my fatigue, Becker grabs handfuls of our clothes that are scattered around the garage floor and heads toward the door. I try to right myself, but it’s hard. My nipples are still hard and hanging out of my bra and my panties are basically stretched out and ruined, which causes a blush to creep up my cheeks.

Becker nods toward the door, carefully balancing all of our clothes in one arm and grabbing the doorknob with the other. He listens for a few seconds, and when he hears nothing, silently opens the door. I glance at my watch, grateful that it’s still a few minutes before Elaina will be getting up for work. We creep through the kitchen and down the short hall, wordlessly making it to my bedroom, where I close and lock the door.

I make my way to my dresser and grab an oversized T-shirt. I’d normally run through the shower before bed, but this morning, I can’t seem to find the energy. Instead, I shrug my work shirt off my shoulders and replace it with the soft cotton I’ll sleep in. Becker is moving around behind me, most likely taking care of the condom from earlier. Keeping my back to him, I reach inside the shirt and remove my bra, setting it on top of my uniform shirt. My panties need to go too, but there’s something very intimate about removing them with him still in the room.

That or maybe it’s because I’d totally dig up the energy for a second round of sex with the one man I shouldn’t entertain the idea with.

When I turn around, I find him standing there, watching me. He slipped his wrinkled Henley back over his torso and put on his worn jeans. They’re still unfastened, and I can see a glimpse of that happy trail that travels southbound from his navel. My mouth waters.

“I should,” he starts, nodding to my door.

I know he’s telling me he should go home, but I can’t help the palpitation in my chest at the thought of him leaving. “Oh, yeah,” I state, nodding frantically. The lump in my throat is there, making it hard to breathe.

His hazel eyes connect with mine. He holds my gaze and I swear I can see everything. His confliction, his concern, and his desire. “I don’t want to leave.”

Those five words send my heart soaring in my chest and I have to fight from letting a smile spread across my lips. “You don’t have to,” I find myself saying, even though he probably should.

He should probably go home.

We shouldn’t have had sex in my garage.

We shouldn’t climb into my bed and fall asleep in each other’s arms.

But I ignore all of those thoughts, and pray he does too. Leaving the option completely up to him, I climb on my bed, pulling the comforter down as I go. I listen intently, wondering which decision he’s going to make. If he goes home, it’ll hurt a little, considering I just invited him to stay. But I know if he does go, it’s because he made the right decision for the both of us.

And yes, the right decision is that he should go.

Even though I pray he doesn’t.

As I slide in the cool sheets, I hear him moving. I keep my back to him, not sure I can watch as he finishes getting dressed and leaves. I’ve never had a hit it and quit it before, and I’m not really sure what to do. But that’s not what happens. Instead, I feel the blanket lift and the bed dip under his weight. He grabs my hips and pulls me back into his warm, hard chest.

He’s completely naked, losing his shirt and jeans before climbing into bed with me, and I can feel his cock pressed firmly against the cleft of my ass. It’s also growing hard again. I adjust my hips and press back, suddenly not quite as tired as I was only moments ago.

“Mmm,” he groans, gripping my hips and holding me still. “As much as I’d love to do that all over again, I think we both need a little sleep.” His warm breath tickles my ear.

My eyes are closed before I even realize, and I know he’s right. It’s been a long night, and an even longer morning. “’Kay,” I whisper, snuggling into his arm and chest.

His hand comes up to rest casually over my waist and his breathing starts to deepen. “Night, Bee.”

“Becker?”

He mumbles an acknowledgment, but I’m not really sure it’s classified as a word.

“I like it when you call me Bee.” My heart does a little skip in my chest.

He tightens his hold on me. “I like calling you Bee.”

“Night,” I reply, loving the way his body wraps so naturally around mine as I drift off to sleep.

Chapter Eight

Becker

There’s a knock on the front door, which is welcomed. Brooklyn is in the shower—naked—and it’s taking every ounce of self-control I possess to not join her. But I need to let her rest a bit. Not only did I take her hard against her truck fender, but I woke her this afternoon with my mouth on her pussy. After making her come that way, I suited up (thankfully, she had another condom) and gave her two more orgasms with my cock.

And now that he’s had a taste of sweet Brooklyn, he only wants more.

Greedy bastard.

It’s late afternoon, and we’re both starving, so I took the liberty of ordering sandwiches from the sub shop in town. I’ve eaten there a handful of times, partially because it’s good and the other part because they’ll deliver anytime.

I dig out my wallet for some cash and head for the door. My feet are bare, as is my chest. I should probably throw on my Henley, but it’s somewhere in her bedroom right now, and I don’t feel like wasting the time to find it. I’m fucking starving.

Throwing open the door, I pull a few bills from my wallet. “How much?” I ask, finding two tens and some twenties.

“Is there a reason you’re in my daughter’s place without a shirt on, Officer Ramsey?”

My eyes fly up and meet the slightly shocked, slightly angry ones of my boss. Captain Jackson.

Fuck.

“Uhh,” I stammer, running my hand over the back of my neck. Yeah, in hindsight, a shirt would have been a much wiser decision. “Come in,” I end up saying, my throat suddenly very dry and scratchy.

He does, the click of the closing door ominously loud in the small condo. As he turns around, he takes in my appearance, from my bare feet to my chest, and I know I might not make it out alive. “Officer Ramsey, is there a reason you’re half-naked in my daughter’s place?” he asks again. I can feel his gaze piercing me with the intensity of a thousand knives as he repeats his question.

Swallowing hard, I know I’m screwed no matter which way I play this. Too casual and he’ll view me as a fuck-boy who only wanted one thing from his daughter, which would be the furthest from the truth. “With all due respect, sir, what happens here is between Brooklyn and me.”

His eyes flare, as if he doesn’t like my statement, but you know what? I don’t give a shit. I don’t owe him an explanation. Not really. I respect his daughter and that’s all he needs to know. One eyebrow arches and I can tell he’s about to argue. I’m relieved when he says, “Why don’t you go put on a shirt, and then we can talk.”

I give him a quick nod and head toward Brooklyn’s bedroom. I can feel her dad’s eyes on me the entire way and only sigh in brief relief when I’m alone in the room. I find my shirt on the floor where I dropped it this morning and slide it on. It’s a wrinkled mess, but I don’t care. I don’t take back anything from our time together. My shoes aren’t here. In fact, I haven’t seen them since the garage last night, so I can only assume they’re still out there somewhere.

Before I head back out to face her dad, I realize Brooklyn is in the bathroom across the hall. She didn’t take any clothes in with her, which means she’ll step out into the hall in nothing but a towel. While that image is one I can fully support, I don’t want her to be blindsided by the appearance of her dad and me in her place together. So, I grab a pair of yoga pants and a shirt from her drawer, pulling out a white bra and panty set too, and prepare to take them to her.

When I step out in the hall, I don’t see her dad, but I know he’s still here. I can feel it. I lightly knock on the bathroom door and give the knob a turn. Fortunately, she didn’t lock the door. I’d like to believe it was because she was hoping I’d join her, and to be honest, if her dad hadn’t shown up, I was probably five seconds away from giving in to the urge, food be damned. Now, I’m grateful as fuck I wasn’t in there with her. My luck, her pops probably has a key and would have been waiting for us the moment we stepped out.

As I step inside the room, I’m treated to the image of her naked on the other side of the clear shower door. Her long, blonde hair is slicked back and my fingers twitch to tangle in it. My cock takes full notice that she’s wet and naked and… Yeah, not going there right now. She gives me a sassy grin, one that makes my balls tingle. “I was kinda hoping you might join me,” she starts, sliding open the door.

“Uhh, yeah, about that,” I stammer, my eyes trying to focus on her beautiful face, yet unable to look away from her glorious wet tits. “We have…company.”

“What?” she gasps, moving to cover herself with her arms. “Who?” she whispers, glancing over my shoulder.

Setting the clothes down on the sink, I give her my full attention. “Your dad.”

The color drains from her face as she absorbs my words. “My dad? He’s here?”

“In the living room.”

“Holy shit,” she responds, her eyes falling to the floor. “This isn’t good.”

“Probably not. I brought you some clothes so you weren’t stepping out of here naked and blind.”

“You need to leave,” she insists, reaching for the faucet and shutting off the water. “Maybe if you sneak out the back door you can…”

“Bee,” I interrupt, drawing her eyes back up to mine. “I’m not going anywhere.”

I let my words sink in. No, we haven’t talked about what the hell this is that’s going on between us, but I don’t give a shit. I’m not going anywhere. I’ve felt this bone-deep pull toward her since the moment I saw her. I’ve wanted her, even if I shouldn’t. I can’t deny it, and I won’t. Not anymore. The more time I spend with her, the more I like her, the more I want to get to know her. So there’s no way I’m sneaking out or hiding now. I’m twenty-nine fucking years old, and I haven’t done anything wrong. We haven’t done anything wrong.

“Becker,” she whispers, wrapping a thick, fluffy pink towel around her torso.

“I’m going out to talk to your dad. Get dressed and you can join us when you’re ready.”

She nods, her hypnotic blue eyes wide as she watches me leave the bathroom. Back out in the hall, I head to the small living room where I know my superior awaits. “Brooklyn will be out in a minute,” I tell him as I step into the room and take a seat across from him. I want to be able to see him face-to-face as we have this discussion.

We’re both quiet as we stare each other down, sizing up our opponent. No, I don’t view him as an adversary, per se, but I do know I have an uphill battle in the fucking snow with no boots on my feet. Brooklyn and her father are close. I can see that written all over their faces, despite what image she tries to portray at work.

Finally, I can’t stand the silence. Not because I have anything to feel guilty or ashamed of, but because he has a right to know how I feel and I want to say it before his daughter joins us. “I’m sure finding me here today was a surprise,” I start, keeping my body from bouncing nervously and my eyes locked on his brown ones.

My superior snorts his reply.

“What happens between your daughter and I is personal and private. I won’t discuss it with you, or anyone else. I will tell you, however, as a courtesy because you are her father, that I respect your daughter. As an officer and as a woman.” I watch as my captain’s throat bobs when I say that. “We haven’t even talked about whatever this is between us, so I won’t get into it with you now, but do know that I like her. I enjoy working with her because she’s competent and efficient, but I also like hanging out with her after work. I don’t know what our future holds, but I hope to continue spending time with her.” I clear my throat. “I like her a lot.”

I can feel the intensity of his gaze all the way down to my toes, and I’ll be honest, a lesser man would probably crumble. But not me. I’m not about to let him push me, dictate who I can and cannot spend my free time with. So as much as I hate the weight of his all-knowing eyes, I hold his gaze, remain calm, and try not to squirm.

Just as he goes to open his mouth, the bathroom door opens. I hear her soft footfalls on the floor as she makes her way to the living room, her gorgeous blue eyes wide with shock and worry. “Hey, Daddy,” she says tentatively. “What are you doing here?”

The moment Captain’s eyes land on his daughter, his hardened features soften and a smile plays on his lips. “What am I doing here? My daughter gets injured at work and I’m not supposed to stop by and check on her?” He pulls her into his arms and over her shoulder, glances my way with a look I can’t decipher. “Though, apparently, someone beat me to the punch.”

Brooklyn glances over at me with a nervous chuckle. “Yeah, uh, Becker… I mean, Officer Ramsey just stopped by. To check on me.”

Captain, not missing a thing, drops his gaze down to my bare feet. I may have thrown on a shirt, but I didn’t waste time hunting down my shoes. “I can see that.”

The room fills with uncomfortable silence. A part of me wants to head over to my own place and avoid any entanglement between work and personal, but it’s too late for that. I’m already tangled. If there’s going to be any backlash for Brooklyn with my appearance here today, I’m not going to let her deal with it alone.

I’m staying.

The next few minutes are awkward, at best. He asks his daughter about the call this morning, even though I’m sure he read all about it in the report that was on his desk when he arrived at work. As soon as they finish discussing the details of the arrest, our captain stands and walks toward the door.

“Your mother will probably check on you shortly too. She’ll be worried until she sees that you’re okay with her own eyes.”

Like you, I want to say, but refrain.

“Thank you for stopping by,” she says, walking with him to the door.

I follow, but keep my distance. He pulls her in for a tight hug and glances at me once more over her shoulder. I hate that I can’t read his facial expression. I wish he’d just say what was on his mind so I know what I am up against, because when I told him I liked her, I wasn’t kidding. I really fucking like Brooklyn and I’d hate it if there wasn’t support coming from the man she obviously looks up to.

“Ramsey,” he says, nodding my way before stepping out into the cool afternoon air.

“Captain,” I respond, waiting with bated breath as Brooklyn says her goodbyes and closes the door behind him.

“Holy shit,” she whispers, not meeting my eyes.

“Hey,” I say, pulling her into my arms. She goes easily, which I’m grateful for. “It’s going to be okay. There’re no rules about us seeing each other outside of work. As long as we keep it professional on the job, we’ll be fine.”

She glances up with those amazing eyes and gives me a small grin. “So…we’re seeing each other?”

“Hell yeah, we are. I like spending time with you and wouldn’t mind getting to know ya a little more,” I reply, running my hands up her back as her chest flattens against mine.

“Okay.” She gazes up at me, her eyes shining like the Christmas lights on the tree.

“How about we start with breakfast, or uh, dinner, since it’s late afternoon. It should be here shortly. I’ll run home quickly and get ready for shift, and then we’ll eat. How does that sound?”

“It sounds perfect,” she agrees, wrapping her hands around my neck and gently pulling me down until our lips connect. The kiss is soft and exploratory and could easily get out of control real quickly.

Instead of taking her back to bed, as I’d much rather do, I push my need for her aside and release her lips. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. Does that give you enough time to finish getting ready?”

She nods, her lips swollen and her eyes glassy.

Shit, I’d rather take her back to bed.

But I don’t.

I step back and search for my shoes, which I find in the garage. When I’m finally wearing everything I arrived in early this morning, I head for the front door. Brooklyn throws me a little wave, which I return, and bites her bottom lip. It takes all the strength I possess to keep walking.

Yeah, I got it bad.

*****

The week progresses quickly, a combination of working alongside Brooklyn and spending our time off with each other, and before I know it, it’s Thursday night, Christmas Eve. One more shift and then we’re off for two days. My sister flew out yesterday to spend the holidays with our parents, which is where I’d usually be too. But I can’t exactly request the Christmas holiday off when I’m the new guy, even though it fell as our night off anyway. The thing I love about this small town is the camaraderie of the force. The only guys getting Christmas day off are the two with young kids at home. Otherwise, it’s all hands on deck with shorter shifts so no one misses the entire day away from family or friends.

Just after midnight, dispatch radios our car with a building check across town. A security company called with an alarm activated at the local strip mall. One of the sensors was tripped at the back door, and it’s our job to check it out.

“You want backup?” The voice over the radio is familiar, but not in the sense that I’ve heard it there before. Lieutenant Stevens and Captain Jackson are in the other squad tonight, giving some of the officers an evening at home with their families.

“Negative,” Brooklyn responds. “We’ll radio for backup if necessary.”

“10-4,” Lieutenant Stevens replies.

When we pull into the strip mall, I can already tell that something isn’t right. The back door is standing wide open, which my partner relays to dispatch. We pull around to the side, preparing to check it out on foot. If someone is in there, we don’t want to send them running when our car pulls up.

“You take point,” she says, joining me as we make our way to where the door is ajar. I keep scanning everything in front of me, while my partner keeps an eye on my six.

I don’t take my gun from my holster, but do unsnap the buckle. I’ll be able to draw it quicker, if the need arises.

“See anything?” she whispers as we approach the doorway.

I shake my head, knowing she can see me under the light on the building. As I step in the entryway, I stop and listen for any sound. It’s quiet, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t someone inside. I slowly peek around the door. The warehouse area is full of merchandise, but I don’t see anything amiss. Quietly, I step inside, keeping my ass to the wall. Brooklyn follows.

We make our way toward the hallway, where a light shines brightly. It’s coming from a room just to our left, which is where we head. As I approach, I hold up my hand to stop. Listening intently, I glance quickly around the doorframe, finding another small storage room. I signal that I’m entering and draw my gun, keeping the safety on.

I feel Brooklyn’s body against mine as she follows suit, pulling her service pistol from the holster and turning so that she’s watching my back. Then, I step into the room, sweeping my gun from right to left, as I clear the room. “Clear,” I state after checking around the shelves with fancy purses and bags.

“Clear,” Brooklyn states from the opposite side of the room, which I could probably still reach out and touch her.

Just then, the door to the small storage room slams shut behind us, the sound of the lock engaging echoing through the space. Holstering my pistol, I head for the door, confirming that it’s locked from the outside. “What the fuck,” I mumble, reaching for the radio attached to my shoulder.

“Dispatch, can you read me?” I ask, the line staticky and unclear. “Dispatch? Over?”

Brooklyn tries hers, but the response from dispatch comes back muffled. “Shit. It must be the building.” she speculates, glancing up and noticing the tin roof and thick construction steel.

Exhaling, I scan the perimeter of the room for another exit, but come up short. There’s not even a window to break and climb out of. I ignore the tingle at the base of my neck and sweat that starts to gather at my spine. It’s stuffy in this room, as if there are no heat ducts or air vents, which doesn’t help keep the threat of panic at bay.

I fucking hate small spaces.

“You okay?” Brooklyn asks, turning and glancing my way.

“Yeah, fine. You?” I ask, running my hand up my neck and into my hair.

“You don’t look so fine,” She says, coming closer and checking me out.

“I’m fine. Just not a fan of small rooms,” I confirm, keeping my eyes on our surroundings.

She gives me an ornery grin that does bad things to my groin area. “Well, you’re in luck, Ramsey. I’ll have us out of here in a jiffy.”

Rolling my eyes. “Yeah? How you gonna do that, Bee?” I ask, the scent of her shampoo suddenly overtaking the room. It’s like the only thing I can see, smell, hear, and taste, is her.

“Just give me a minute, will ya?” she says, dropping to her knees. No, not in front of me, but in front of the doorknob. I watch with odd fascination as she pulls something from her hair and straightens it out.

Seconds later, she sticks the pin in the doorknob and starts to twist. All I can hear is the pounding of my heart and the blood swooshing in my ears as I watch her do whatever in the world she’s doing. I’m sweating again, wondering if we’ll ever get the hell out of this shithole closet.

“Hey, Ramsey, do me a favor, will ya?” she hollers over her shoulder.

“Hmm?”

“Talk to me. It’s too quiet in here. I can’t concentrate when it’s this silent.”

What an odd statement. Too quiet? She needs noise to focus?

“Seriously?” I find myself asking, watching as she drops her hands from trying to pick the lock and turns her attention on me.

“Yes, I’m serious. Just say…something,” she says before turning her effort back to the task at hand.

I take a seat along the back wall, my body barely fitting between two shelves. “So, back home, in Oklahoma, my old partner was involved in a scandal that included a few high ranking officials and a shit-ton of money.”

Brooklyn stops what she’s doing and catches my gaze over her shoulder. “Seriously?”

I give one slow nod as confirmation. “When it broke, I was put on administrative leave, pending investigation. They thought there was no way I couldn’t have known what he was up to or been involved somehow.”

“What exactly did he do?” she asks, turning and focusing her attention back on the knob.

“He was being paid to turn a blind eye for a lot of stuff and, in a way, used as a hired gun for other things. He was taking bribes to lose evidence and fabricate testimonies regarding a case involving racketeering and money laundering.”

“Jesus,” she whispers, poking her little hair pin into the knob once more.

“Yeah. It was a nightmare. My coworkers all looked at me like I was the dirty one, even after I had been cleared. The woman I was dating at the time up and left during the shitstorm, claiming she didn’t want anything to do with the press that followed me everywhere I went. It was like I couldn’t get away from all the bullshit, ya know? Even after I was allowed back to work. Everyone just…looked at me differently.”

She glances my way again. “Yeah, I get it.”

“Anyway, I was talking to my sister one night and she mentioned this place. She really painted a great picture of Rivers Edge and even told me about an opening on the force, and well, I just decided right then and there I needed a change. I turned in my notice the next week and prepared to move to Missouri. The rest is history.”

Brooklyn doesn’t say anything, but I can tell she’s listening intently. Silence fills the room once more, and I can’t help but wonder what in the hell I’m going to talk about now. I basically just bared the most embarrassing, traumatic drama of my life, and I hate the vulnerability it makes me feel. But if I can share this piece of me with anyone, I want it to be Brooklyn.

I trust her.

“My dad isn’t my biological dad.”

Her shocking words ring loud in the room, though they’re barely above a whisper. I decide to remain silent, taking my lead from her.

“My mom was young when she got pregnant with me. The guy she was dating wanted nothing to do with being a parent, so he left. Dad was best friends with my uncle, Jake, and Mom met Dad through him. He adopted me when I was four years old, after they got married.”

“You love him.” I don’t know why I say it. It’s evident in the way she talks to him and about him.

“More than anyone, Mom excluded,” she glances over her shoulder, her eyes finding purchase with mine. “He’s my dad.”

“Of course he is.”

She sits there, fidgeting with the pin once more. “He was there for me when no one else was. Well, technically, that’s not true. My uncles were there, but that’s different. He…loved me, you know? And has never once treated me like I wasn’t his daughter. Even after my brothers and sister came along. I was always…his.”

The emotion that swells in my chest makes it hard to breathe. No, I don’t know my captain that well, but his daughter has painted a pretty damn good picture of him. He’s a family man with a hard exterior, who takes care of those he loves.

“How did your dinner with them go earlier?” I’ve wanted to ask since the moment we were alone in the car, but felt that if she wanted to tell me, she would.

“Fine. It was a little tense at first, but after he grilled me for a few minutes, I told him that I liked you and wanted to see where a relationship went. He’s worried about the future, if it doesn’t work out, and we have to work together.”

“We’ll cross that bridge if we get there,” I tell her, relaxing even more.

She nods. “Plus, my mom told him to stop being a stubborn jackass and let me live my life.” Her giggle is the sweetest sound. “Mom’s always had a way to get through to him when he goes all over-protective, extreme dad on me.”

“He’s a lucky man, Bee. His daughter is truly amazing,” I confess, just as the flip of the lock fills the room.

She turns and looks at me, her smile wide and her blue eyes sparkling. “Got it,” she whispers, grinning like a loon.

Standing up, I join her at the door. “Do I want to know how you learned to do that?”

Brooklyn beams proudly. “My uncle, Nate, taught me when I was younger. He said every girl needs to know how to pick a lock,” she replies casually with the gentle shrug of her shoulder.

“Your uncle taught you how to pick a lock? I can’t wait to meet this uncle,” I reply, pulling my gun from my holster.

“That’s good because he’ll be there at the Stevens’ Christmas gathering,” she states, reminding me of the night in the hospital earlier in the week when her other uncle, Will, I believe, said to bring me to Christmas dinner. There’s been no other mention of it, so I assumed I was eating take-out alone for the big holiday.

But maybe not…

Maybe I’ll be spending the day with Brooklyn.

And her family.

Chapter Nine

Brooklyn

I follow my partner out of the small storage room, my gun held firmly in my right hand as my eyes scan the expansive warehouse. There are two assailants throwing the last of their loot into the back of a pickup truck before giving the room one last once-over.

“Ready?” one of them inquires.

“Yeah. What about those two?” the other asks, nodding toward the small room we were recently locked inside.

“Leave ‘em. More cops will be here soon when they don’t check in,” the one who’s in charge states.

Becker holds up his hand, letting me know he’s about to make a move. The assailants are about to get in the truck and leave, but we’re not going to let them get away. My partner moves to the front of the truck, keeping his body pressed against the shadowed wall. Just before the two guys get in, he yells, “Hands where we can see them.”

The first guy instantly throws his hands in the air, his eyes wide with fear and shock. The second guy, however, makes a move for something. I’m several feet behind Becker, my gun trained at the man with his hands up, and watch, in slow motion, as the driver of the truck pulls something shiny from his waistband. He swings in my direction, ready to pull the trigger. I react, moving my gun his way, but I’m too slow. The shot fires moments before I’m slammed hard into the concrete floor. The air expels from my lungs and I struggle to breathe from the combination of the fall and the weight on top of me.

Just then, a second shot is fired, and I wait for the pain.

There is none.

I roll to the side, taking Becker with me. His eyes are closed and I can see the hole in his uniform top, directly above his heart. The panic sets in. My blood freezes in my veins and is replaced by unbridled fear. “No, no, no, no,” I chant, getting up on my knees beside his lifeless body.

My fingers fly to his neck, where his pulse beats strong and steady. A touch of relief mixes with my anxiety. “Becker? Can you hear me?” I ask, placing my hand over the wound to apply pressure. “Don’t you dare do this now. It’s freaking Christmas, for God’s sake. We’re supposed to go to my grandma and grandpa’s house. My uncles are supposed to harass and interrogate you like a criminal. You’re supposed to kiss me under the mistletoe, even though my dad will be there and glare at you from across the room.”

“I’ll kiss you anywhere, Bee.” His words are soft, as is the smile that spreads across his face as he opens his hazel eyes and gazes up at me. So much relief fills my body that I swear it could carry me out of here like a balloon.

“You’re alive,” I laugh, smiling widely down at the man lying in front of me. Lifting my hands, I find them dry and free from the blood I expected. “But, you were shot,” I state, incredulously.

“Vest,” he says, trying to sit up and failing. “Fuck, that’s gonna leave a mark,” he adds, groaning.

Smiling, I run my hand over his stubbly cheek. “You jumped in front of that bullet.”

His eyes burn with intensity, with desire, and with so much care as he slowly grins up at me. “And I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

I’m moving, his mouth drawing closer, before I even register what I’m doing. Just before our lips connect, I hear, “Ambulance is on the way.”

I startle, turning to find Uncle Jake kneeling beside me. “Interesting way to get out of work early, Ramsey,” our Lieutenant states, the smile on his face obvious that he’s joking.

“Yeah, well, I had nothing better to do,” Becker says, grimacing in pain as he tries to sit up. Jake extends his hand, helping him to sit on the concrete floor.

“The second shot? You took down the shooter?” I ask, as I remain kneeling at Becker’s side.

“Not me,” Uncle Jake says, nodding his head to the side. “Bastard got the jump on me.” I already know who he’s referring to.

When I glance over, I find his old partner—my dad—with his gun trained on the crying, thrashing driver of the truck. The other is lying on the ground beside him, his hands cuffed behind his back.

“We walked in just as the driver was drawing his gun,” Jake adds, his facial features dark and haunted. “We both had our guns up, ready, when we saw Ramsey turn and jump.”

Again, I look over my shoulder at the man standing behind me. He looks both pissed off and scared to death and never takes his eyes off me. The sound of an ambulance siren can be heard in the distance as I stand up and slowly make my way toward him. My legs are shaky, but I manage to somehow hold myself up in front of him.

“You okay?” Dad asks, seeming to check me over for injury.

“I’m okay.” Glancing down at the men on the ground, I ask, “You shot him?”

“In the leg,” he responds, shrugging his shoulder.

Instead of speaking, I throw my arms around his broad shoulders and just hold him. Dad’s arms wrap around me, holding me just as tight, if not a bit stronger. He seems to take a deep breath, inhaling and exhaling his relief. “I love you, baby girl,” he whispers.

“I love you too, Daddy.”

When he sets me back down on my feet, the ambulance is here. Two men, one being my Uncle Will, come inside and take in the scene before them. Dad points to Ramsey. “Officer down, but he’ll be okay. Bullet to the vest. This one has a gunshot wound to the leg, also will be okay.”

Uncle Will heads over to my partner, while the woman he’s with comes over to check out the leg wound.

The next hour flies by as the chief arrives on the scene, since an officer discharged his weapon. He listens as Uncle Jake and Dad recount what happened, including them watch Ramsey jump in front of me to take the bullet. Chief doesn’t say much to me, just instructs me to ride to the hospital with my partner. I, of course, don’t refuse. Even though he insists he’s fine, it’s protocol to be checked out.

At the hospital, they do an X-ray to Becker’s chest and find a cracked rib from the force of the bullet. Bruising is already settled in too, but for the most part, he’ll be fine. Plus, I’ve been able to stare at his bare chest for the last thirty minutes or so, which is a pretty stellar view, considering I’m in a hospital.

“You’re all set to go,” the ER doc comes in, discharge papers in hand. “You’ll be sore for a while. I’ve got a prescription for pain meds,” he starts, but Becker cuts him off.

“No need. I’ll take Tylenol.”

The doc just looks at him. “Fine, but if you do need something stronger, you’ll have the prescription,” he says, attaching the script to the discharge orders.

They run through the list of things he should and shouldn’t do, but Becker’s eyes are on me the whole time. When he signs his name on the paperwork, he gets up, albeit a little gingerly. I help him slide on his uniform top, even though it has a bullet hole in the front. He can’t exactly go outside in freezing temperatures without anything covering his amazing chest.

Dammit.

Plus, the nurse seemed a little too eager to be of assistance when it came to dressing (and even undressing) my partner.

With the doctor’s orders in hand, we make our way through the short hallway of the emergency department and toward the front entrance. When I find two men there, leaning against the wall, I stop in my tracks.

“How ya feeling?” Uncle Jake asks Ramsey, his eyes assessing him before turning to me. There, he clearly notices my partner’s arm slung over my shoulder and my own arm wrapped around his waist. Not entirely because of his soreness either. Partially because I just wanted to touch him as reassurance that he’s here and okay.

“Fine. Tired. I’m ready to crash for a few hours,” Becker states, not moving his arm, even though he’s being watched like a hawk.

I glance at my dad, but he doesn’t say anything right away. He just watches as Becker and I make our way to the entrance. When we step through the doorway, the cold air assaults me, the chill seeping into my bones.

“I hear it’s supposed to snow later,” Uncle Jake says, opening the back door of the squad they’re driving.

“Really? I’ve never seen snow,” Becker says as he slowly lowers himself in the back seat.

“Seriously?” I ask, glancing down at his grimaced face.

“Well, not real snow. We have flurries in southern Oklahoma during a cold spell, but it doesn’t last long.”

“You’re definitely in luck, Ramsey. You’ll get your fill of snow in Missouri,” Uncle Jake says, getting into the passenger seat, while my dad goes around to the driver’s side. “We’re supposed to have a white Christmas later today. Erin is excited and wants us all to sled tomorrow,” he adds, referring to his wife and his brood of kids.

We’re somewhat quiet on the ride to our condo building, though that doesn’t stop me from reaching across the seat and taking Becker’s hand in mine. Uncle Jake fills the short time with random thoughts and questions, mostly directed at Ramsey. About the shooting, his past, his family.

When Dad pulls into the complex where our condos are, he stops in Becker’s driveway first. I jump out to help him from the back seat, but Becker has other ideas. He’s already climbing out, very, very carefully, by the time I get around to his side. Dad and my uncle both get out of the car and meet us at the hood. “I’m going to walk him in and help him get settled,” I tell them, watching as both of their eyes remain unreadable. They’re both in cop mode, and there’s no mistaking how they observe my every move.

“See you in a while?” Uncle Jake asks, coming up to give me a hug. With my face planted in his wide chest, I’m unable to see the look he gives my partner.

“I’ll be there,” I tell him, backing up and turning to my dad.

He pulls me immediately into his arms and kisses my forehead. “Love you,” he whispers, holding on extra tight for a few moments longer.

“Love you, Daddy,” I whisper.

When we finally let go, I move to join my partner as he slowly makes his way to his front door. He tries to dig in his pocket for his keys, but finds it difficult to maneuver his body without jarring his cracked rib. “Let me,” I reply, digging into the front pocket of his uniform pants without giving it a single thought.

You know, like the fact that my dad and my most overprotective uncle are watching just feet away.

Becker grunts as I wiggle my hand in the tight space, brushing against his cock in the process. My face burns instantly, and I keep my eyes averted downward. When I finally have the keys in my hand, I turn and unlock the door, holding it open for the injured man who lives here.

I throw an awkward wave at the two men watching and step inside. My plan is to help get him settled in bed to rest and then slip back to my own place for a shower and some sleep. I only have about five hours before I have to get ready for my grandparents’ Christmas dinner.

Just as I turn to shut the door, my father’s voice stops me in my tracks. “Ramsey?”

Becker turns around, the movements jarring his upper chest and causing him discomfort. “Sir?”

“We’ll see you at dinner, right?”

I can feel Becker straighten beside me. “Uhh, yes. Yes, sir.”

Dad nods before turning and getting into the squad car. Uncle Jake looks at him like he lost his mind, but I can’t help but smile. My dad extended a huge olive branch today in the form of a casual invitation, and that thought makes me the happiest girl in the world.

Inside, I help Becker walk to his bedroom, which is the mirror image of my own. Exhaustion is settling in as he drops onto the mattress and groans in pain from the movements. “Shit, that hurts,” he mumbles, toeing off his black shoes and leaving them laying on the floor.

“Let me help,” I tell him, crouching down in front of him and pulling off his black socks. When his feet are bare, I stand up, motioning with my hand for him to do the same. He does silently, though I can tell by the look on his face that it bothers him.

After he stands, I unbutton his shirt, my eyes locked on his the entire time. When the shirt is open, I gently push it off his shoulders, carefully running my hands up his shoulders and down his arms. Leaning forward, I place my lips over the angry purple welt where the bullet hit his vest. I can hear his gasp, but feel him instantly relax against my tender touch.

My hands then move to his belt. He doesn’t say a word as I remove the leather and unbutton and unzip his pants. As I start to push them over his hips, I can already tell he’s hard. My eyes meet his and a smirk transforms his handsome face to one of pure mischief, and maybe a little desire.

When he’s standing in nothing but dark blue boxer briefs, I point to the bed. “Get in.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replies in a sleepy southern drawl that does dirty things to my lady parts.

“I’m going to get you some Tylenol,” I tell him as I slip out of his room and head to the kitchen. I find the bottle of pain reliever on the windowsill and a clean glass in the cabinet.

Once I have both, I head back to his bedroom, finding the curtains already drawn tight and the room somewhat darkened, considering it’s early morning. Becker’s lying on his back, one arm thrown over his eyes and the other held protectively against his side.

Setting the glass on the nightstand, I touch his good shoulder, careful not to startle him. “I have your pain meds.”

He shifts his arm until his hazel eyes are exposed and focused solely on me. My heart gallops in my chest as all these crazy feelings swirl around like a tornado. I like him. I mean I really, really like him, and I’m not one hundred percent sure, but I think he feels the same way.

Becker sits up and takes both Tylenol at once, gulping down half the glass in the process. He sets it back on the nightstand and lies back down on the pillow, his eyes never wavering from me. “Bee?” he whispers, his voice low and gravelly.

“Yeah?”

His eyes hold just a hint of vulnerability as he asks, “Will you stay?”

My throat is tight, preventing words from exiting, so I nod in agreement. I slip off my belt, setting it on the ground beside him. He points to the small safe in the closet and recites the three numbers I need to unlock it. There, I place both his and my service pistols inside, securing them for the day.

With that task complete, I strip down to my white cami and panties. I always wear a cami between my bra and my vest to keep it from chafing my skin. I reach between my breasts and unhook the front clasp on my bra, pulling it from the tank and dropping it on the floor. Becker’s eyes are dilated as he watches me undress, clearly enjoying the view from where he lies.

Very carefully, I slip beneath the comforter on the opposite side of the bed, but Becker has other ideas. He adjusts me so that I face away from him and pulls me back against his chest. He grunts a bit when our bodies touch, but then starts to relax, throwing his arm over my waist.

“Thank you,” he whispers, his warm breath tickling my ear.

“For what?” I ask, glancing over my shoulder.

“For staying.”

I turn just a bit more so that I can see his eyes as I say, “No place I’d rather be.”

His delectable lips turn upward as he pulls me back tighter. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, Becker,” I reply softly, my fingers entwining with his.

He’s out just a few minutes later, his breathing pattern steady and deep. My own exhaustion starts to pull me under, and the last thing I recall before sleep takes hold is the sound of his whispered words, “My Bee.”

Chapter Ten

Becker

I’m nervous as hell as I carefully climb out of the passenger seat of my car.

Sometime in the early morning, both my car and Brooklyn’s truck showed up in our driveways. I don’t even want to think about how her dad and uncle pulled that off, considering we both had our keys at my place. Or the fact that when they delivered the vehicles, Brooklyn wasn’t at her place, as insinuated when they left.

But waking up with her in my arms (or arm, considering the other one causes a little discomfort when I move it)?

Fucking heaven.

Totally worth the shit I’m probably about to get from her family.

I’m just praying they’re all in the Christmas spirit today and don’t lay it on too thick, ya know?

Not that I can’t handle it.

I’d do just about anything for the woman who looks badass as hell driving my car. If the sight of her in that big Chevy truck did a number on me and my libido, the view of her behind the wheel of my baby pretty much ensured hard-ons for the rest of my life.

“Ready?” she asks, pulling the keys from the ignition and looking over with those big blue eyes.

I’m moving, leaning over and taking the back of her head in my right hand. My lips brushing lightly against hers, the touch both calming and arousing. When I’m certain her lip gloss is smeared all over my mouth, I pull away with a smile. “Ready.”

She’s grinning as she climbs out of the driver’s seat. There are gifts in the trunk for her grandparents. The pile for her parents and siblings still at home for their Sunday gathering. With Brooklyn and Captain Jackson both working shifts last night, the Jackson family decided to celebrate together in two days, after the craziness of the holiday settles down.

“You gonna wipe that off?” she asks, her arms laden with gift bags and a couple of wrapped gifts.

“What?” I ask, even though I know exactly what she’s talking about it. I can taste the fruitiness of whatever is on my face, and it reminds me of her. Frankly, I don’t want to wipe it off.

“That,” she says, nodding to my head. “I didn’t know Passionfruit Paradise was your color.”

“You’re my color,” I tell her, a wide grin on my face.

“I’d suggest wiping it off,” a deep, ominous voice carries over my shoulder.

I turn around and find a tall man, one I haven’t met before. He’s glaring daggers at me, and I’m pretty sure if they were real, I’d be dead already. He looks like the type of guy who could probably bury a body or two as well, and they’d never find it.

“Uncle Nate,” Brooklyn says, the smile in her voice evident as she runs up the stairs and throws her arms carefully around one of her uncles while juggling the packages.

The man continues to stare at me, and I suddenly find myself wiping her lip gloss off my mouth as fast as I can without seeming intimidated.

“Knock it off and be nice. I want you to meet someone,” she says, turning my way as her uncle takes the bags from her hands.

“I’m always nice,” he replies, giving her a sweet smile mixed with something else that lets me know this man has a mischievous side.

Brooklyn rolls her eyes but turns back to me. “Uncle Nate, this is Becker Ramsey, my partner. Becker, meet Nate,” she says, warmth evident in her voice.

I stick out my hand and wait. The man’s arm doesn’t move very quickly, but his eyes sure do. He seems to assess me in a matter of a few seconds before sticking his hand out and placing it in my own. His shake is firm, but not in an intimidating way, which I’m thankful for. “Her favorite uncle,” he finally says, flashing his niece a smile.

She giggles before the door opens behind them. “I thought that was you.” The woman turns to the man and gives him a look. “Let them come inside out of the cold before you start your mean uncle gag,” she says, patting him on the chest and turning and walking away.

“It’s not a gag, woman!” he hollers after her with a laugh.

“That was my Aunt Lia. You’ll meet her in a second,” Brooklyn says, coming over to where I stand. “Ready?”

There’s something very soothing about her smile and her eyes. It settles the nervousness I’m trying to pretend I don’t feel and calms the rapid beat of my heart. I feel I can do anything as long as she’s by my side. That’s why it’s an easy response to reply, “Let’s do this.”

Inside, I’m hit with the warmth of laughter and the scents of homemade baked goods. My stomach rumbles in anticipation of all the food Brooklyn has assured me her grandmother has made. Apparently, she’s a pretty good cook and is no stranger to fixing food for an army.

“They’re here!” a little girl yells before taking off running, her big blue eyes shielded behind a pair of cute purple glasses.

Brooklyn giggles as she takes off her coat and hangs it on the overflowing coatrack in the corner. “That’s Lydia, Will and Carmen’s daughter. She just turned six last week,” Brooklyn says, waving at her little cousin who hides around the corner of the entryway.

The shy girl waves back, but doesn’t take her eyes off me, the stranger in the house. I give her a little wave, but she turns and runs into the room full of people. Figures. I’m making a great impression already.

Suddenly, the noise draws closer as a slew of people starts to file into the foyer of the house. I’m pulled into hugs by the women and glared at by the men. I officially meet Nate and Lia, Will and Carmen, Travis and Josselyn, and even my Lieutenant, Jake, and his wife, Erin. There are kids too—so many damn kids—and I’m pretty sure I won’t recall even one of their names if I were to take a test on them.

Brooklyn introduces me to her brother, Ryder, who’s home from college, as well as her younger brother and sister that I met in the grocery store. Her mom, Avery, pulls her daughter into a big hug and kisses her forehead before turning to me. Without any warning, the woman pulls me into a hug too and whispers, “Thank you.”

“For what?” I ask, even though I have an idea.

“That bullet was meant for my daughter. You stepped in front of it, protecting her and causing bodily injury to yourself in the process. So, thank you, Becker, from the bottom of my heart.”

Her eyes are glassy as I try to swallow over the lump in my throat. “You’re welcome,” I reply, glancing over at Brooklyn, who’s wrapped in her father’s arms. “I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

She smiles fondly at me. “I’m happy you’re here, Becker. This family is a lot to handle, but I think you’re going to fit in just fine,” she says, patting me on the arm.

I’m pulled into another set of arms, these belonging to an older woman. She smells of sugar and cinnamon, and I already know this is the infamous Elizabeth Stevens I’ve been hearing so much about. She hands me off to her husband, Michael, who shakes my hand and leads me into the living room to watch football.

The next hour is spent in a daze. The adults hang out, talking and snacking on appetizers, while the kids keep busy in the rooms upstairs. Normally, I’d feel overwhelmed with so many sets of eyes on me, assessing and judging me, but that’s not really the case here. In fact, it feels almost normal and right.

The family tries to include me in conversations, and even asks me a lot of questions about my life in Oklahoma, as well as my own family. I don’t tell them about my past on the force, but I get the feeling that even if I did, they wouldn’t judge. Brooklyn stays by my side, providing constant support with the subtle brushes of her leg against mine or the gentle touch of my arm.

I excuse myself to use the restroom, knowing dinner will be ready soon. I try to prepare myself for what is probably going to be a very boisterous dinner. They are about to start setting up tables all over the place to seat the entire Stevens family. Deciding I could use a few scored points, I wash my hands and head out to help set up the tables and chairs.

When I step into the hallway, I find my captain there. He’s looking up at one of the photos on the wall, the hint of a smile on his face. I go to step around him, assuming he’s just waiting for the restroom, when he speaks.

“The first time I met her, I knew she was special.”

I stop in my tracks and turn to face him. He continues to gaze up at the wall, so my eyes follow his to a portrait of a wedding photo. I can tell instantly that it’s my captain by his dark eyes and hair. There’s also no mistaking the woman standing beside him, her long blonde hair and striking blue eyes vivid in the photograph. Avery hasn’t aged much at all, I realize, even after more than twenty years of marriage.

And then my eyes land on the little girl, her matching blonde hair and blue eyes shining brightly in the photo. She’s wearing a little white dress too, and is in the arms of the man standing beside me.

“Brooklyn was three when I fell in love with her mother, even though I’d probably loved her my entire adult life. But her,” he says, pointing to his daughter, “she gave me purpose in life. She showed me what unconditional love meant.”

I glance his way, surprised to see tears reflected in his eyes. Suddenly, it’s hard to breathe in this too-small hallway.

Captain turns to me and levels his gaze at me. “I made a mistake with her mother. We didn’t want anyone to know we were dating,” he says, shaking his head and looking down. “But that’s not what she deserved.” His eyes return to mine. “Don’t hide my daughter. If you want to date her, I’ll respect that, but please don’t hide it. Cherish her for the amazing woman she is.

“I saw what you did in that warehouse. I watched as you jumped in front of a bullet. I saw the look in your eyes when you made that split-second decision to protect her, sacrificing yourself. I saw it and recognized it because I have the same look in my eyes when I see my wife.

“I’m not saying you’re in love with her.” He rubs his temples and grimaces. “Hell, the thought of that makes me a little crazy. What I’m saying is do right by her. Be professional at work, respecting the positions you are both in, and appreciate the amazing, gentle, sassy person she is outside of it.”

He glances back up at the photo and smiles. “She’s my little girl and she’s everything to me.”

When he turns my way, he holds out his hand for me to shake. “I promise, sir. I’ll do right by your daughter.”

He nods and turns and walks away, his hands stuffed in his pockets and his head hanging down.

I’m left standing there, watching as he leaves his daughter’s happiness in my hands. My heart soars with excitement as I think about spending more time with her. Dinners, movies, and other dating stuff. I can’t wait, and knowing that I have her father’s blessing only makes it that much sweeter.

Glancing up at the wall of photographs, I smile at the images. Weddings, graduations, and family portraits. Five kids, each with their own families. In the middle of all of them is an old, faded photograph of Michael and Elizabeth’s wedding. It started with those two and has branched into the big family gathered in the other room.

And I’m a part of it.

At least for today.

No, I don’t know what my future will hold, but I’m hoping for the chance to explore more with Brooklyn. Her dad’s right; she’s a special woman, one who deserves to be loved and cherished. I’m not there, yet, but I see myself there one day. The man who comes home to her every night. The lucky bastard who gets to wake up beside her every morning.

That’s what I want.

Someday.

I turn toward where the family is gathered, prepared to help them finish setting up, but when I turn, the hallway is blocked. There stands four men, all with a serious look on their faces, all staring directly at me.

“Uh, hey, guys,” I state, looking from one to the next, my armpits suddenly a little sweaty. None of them say anything, which makes the tension in the small space even thicker, a solid reminder of why I fucking hate small spaces.

Running my hand along the back of my neck, I take a small step forward. “So…anyone have a flamethrower?” I ask with a chuckle, referring to the story I was told about her uncles using the unregulated device to scare off Brooklyn’s prom date.

Travis snorts a laugh. “Not anymore. Jake’s wife made him destroy it years ago.”

Relief washes through me and my shoulders relax.

Just then, my lieutenant steps forward, places his big, meaty arm around my shoulder and steers me back down the wall. I can feel the other uncles behind me, blocking any chance of an exit, as we head up the stairs. “No, flamethrower, Ramsey,” he says. “But I want to show you my laser bazooka.”

Epilogue

Brooklyn

“Look, it’s snowing,” Becker says behind me, his gaze directed out the back door of his condo.

Turning away from the sink, I’m treated to the view of my partner wearing those hip-hugging jeans and a thick Henley shirt. Everything is framed to perfection, from his lean hips to his muscular arms. He looks positively delicious, as he has all day. It was hard to keep my hands off him while in the company of my family.

Grandma sent us home with enough leftovers to keep us fed for a few days, so instead of cooking tonight, we heated up leftover turkey and potatoes, green beans, and rolls. I wasn’t quick enough when I came to get the last few rolls stuffed in my to-go bag, but Grandma didn’t disappoint. She pulled a small bag of half a dozen rolls out of the pantry where she hid them and secretly put them in my bag.

I turn off the water, dry my hands, and meet him at the back door. Becker’s arm instantly wraps around my shoulder, draping me in warmth and security. Security I didn’t know I needed or wanted. Just having him near makes me feel things I’ve never felt before, and I hope we get to continue to explore those feelings.

“Come on,” I say, throwing the lock and stepping outside.

“We should get coats,” he says, hesitant to follow me into the cold Christmas night air.

But he doesn’t, and he quickly pulls me into his arms to keep me warm.

“We won’t be long,” I tell him, snaking my own arms around his back and pressing my chest against his.

I rest my cheek against his chest, the slow and steady thunder of his heart echoing in my ear. I’m careful not to press too hard against the smarted rib, but the touch seems necessary. Becker exhales and brings his chin down to the top of my head. I hear him inhale my hair, something that makes me smile. He keeps saying how much he loves the way I smell.

“So this is midwestern snow,” he says quietly.

I gaze up, loving the way the big, white flakes fall on my heated skin. “I love the snow,” I tell him, smiling as the wetness coats my eyelashes.

“I could learn to love it, as long as you’re here.”

Again, I smile, reveling in the warmth of his words. I hum my agreement.

“Is there anything to do around here on a Thursday night?” he asks, somewhat out of the blue.

“Ummm, the bowling alley is open,” I tell him.

“Bowling? I haven’t been bowling in years,” he says, almost absently.

“My family used to go a lot when I was little.”

“Well, how would you like to go to dinner and bowling with me this Thursday?” he asks, turning me slightly so he can see my face.

“Like a date?” My heart starts to tap-dance in my chest.

“Yeah, a date.”

“That’s very public,” I remind him, knowing that if we’re seen out together in that setting, it’ll stir a lot of the small-town gossip.

“It’s very public, you’re right. I want everyone to know I’m out with the most beautiful girl in the world. I didn’t have time to get you a gift, so I thought maybe a night out would be a good place to start.”

I can’t help but smile at his flattering words. “I’m a pretty good bowler, Mr. Ramsey.”

“I think my ego can handle your ball skills, Miss Jackson,” he teases, heat rushing through my body and landing between my legs.

“Then, yes, I’d love to go out with you Thursday night.”

“Perfect. I’ll pick you up,” he says, glancing up at the snow-filled sky.

“Maybe I want to meet you there? I wouldn’t want you to get the wrong impression about me, you know. I’m not an easy girl,” I state, knowing he probably thinks the complete opposite of me, considering he basically screwed me senseless against my truck fender just a handful of days ago.

Becker doesn’t laugh though. He turns me and gazes down at me. “I don’t think that at all. I think you’re the most fascinating, amazing woman I’ve ever met, and I can’t wait to spend as much time as I possibly can with you.”

The blush creeps up my cheek. “I think you’re pretty great too.”

His lips lower to mine in a tender, gentle kiss. Becker brings his hands up, threading them through my hair and holding my head softly at the perfect angle. He deepens the kiss, his tongue sliding easily against my own. My fingers grip the back of his shirt as my body wiggles against his. I hear his slight gasp, making me realize I probably just jarred his upper body and caused him pain.

“Sorry.”

He kisses the corners of my mouth, followed by my chin. “Don’t be sorry. I’m fine,” he tells me.

We gaze at each other, the snow coming down heavily now, coating us in white wetness. “We should get back inside.”

He doesn’t move, but continues to smile down at me. “Merry Christmas, Bee.”

“Merry Christmas, Becker.”

Then, he lowers his mouth to mine once more. It’s the perfect end to a crazy day. From the warehouse to the hospital, to waking up in each other’s arms and then going to spend the holiday with my family. He was cool, calm, and collected through it all, and right by my side.

Where I want him.

With me.

Together.

~ The End ~

New to the Rivers Edge series? Start at the beginning with Maddox and Avery in Trust Me!

Find more at www.laceyblackbooks.com

Acknowledgments

Thank you to everyone who said – I want more Rivers Edge! It was fun diving back into this family, even after such a long absence. Will there be more? I’m not sure! It was great to spend time with Brooklyn, but I have to wait to see what the future holds for more Rivers Edge.

Thank you: Melissa Gill, Kara Hildebrand, Sandra Shipman, Jo Thompson, the gals at Give Me Books, Kaylee Ryan, Holly Collins, Brenda Wright of Formatting Done Wright, my ARC team, Lacey’s Ladies, my family and friends. And of course, a big thank you to the readers and bloggers!!

About the Author

Lacey Black is a Midwestern girl with a passion for reading, writing, and shopping. She carries her e-reader with her everywhere she goes so she never misses an opportunity to read a few pages. Always looking for a happily ever after, Lacey is passionate about contemporary romance novels and enjoys it further when you mix in a little suspense. She resides in a small town in Illinois with her husband, two children, and a chocolate lab. Lacey loves watching NASCAR races, shooting guns, and should only consume one mixed drink because she’s a lightweight.

Email: laceyblackwrites@gmail.com

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authorlaceyblack

Twitter: https://twitter.com/AuthLaceyBlack

Website: www.laceyblackbooks.com

Table of Contents

Also by Lacey Black

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Epilogue

Acknowledgments

About the Author