Without so much as a nod, she took off at a quick pace down the sidewalk. He fell in step next to her. “Did you get to see anything? I’m sorry you didn’t enjoy it.”
“I did enjoy the two pieces I actually got to look at.”
“We can go back.”
“I’m too embarrassed.”
“Why?”
“Because you think I’m obsessed with penises and asses.”
“I do?”
Amy looked straight ahead and nodded, then wrapped her arms tightly around her body.
He grabbed Amy’s hand and tucked it under his arm. “You’re blushing again.”
“I know. I feel like an inferno when it happens.”
“Well, then I guess you can have your hand back. I was trying to keep you warm.”
She yanked her hand away. “Oh, I thought… Um, yeah, temperature’s dropping fast.”
Peter studied her face as well as he could as they speed-walked down the street. She was more than embarrassed like she’d been earlier, but he didn’t quite know what it was. Had she seen something suspicious? Did someone scare her? Surely she would tell him. “Are you okay? Did something happen?”
“I’m fine, thanks.” She pulled the hood of her sweatshirt over her head. “Who were the ladies you were talking to?”
Odd change of topic, but if it made her feel better, he’d go with it. “Hank was there with his friend Sarah, and then the one with the blond and pink hair is our newest sergeant, Lucy.”
Amy stopped in her tracks. “Lucy? The amazing painter?”
Peter had to wheel around to look at her. “No, she’s a police officer.”
“Does she paint? There was a beautiful picture of a countryside cottage.”
Peter shrugged. “No idea. All I know is she’s following in her father’s footsteps as a cop and eventually wants to be a detective. In fact, she just found a fingerprint match at a bar in Springfield and wants to follow up on a few leads. She and Sarah are gonna go scope the place out while Hank and I cover her shift this evening.”
“She’s gonna go out partying while you work for her?”
“Not partying. She just wants to blend in with the crowd.”
“Maybe I’ll see them out.”
Peter nodded. After what Lucy had told him, he hoped Lucy would be around to watch out for Amy. Amy was more of a target than he’d suspected, and his instinct told him that he was correct when he felt they were being watched earlier.
The air turned damp with drizzle just as they reached Amy’s car. Peter opened the door. “Promise me you’ll be careful tonight. Take your pepper spray and be on constant guard. Just because you’ll be in a different town doesn’t mean you’re not in danger.”
Amy rolled her eyes. “Out of everyone out there, you still think I’ll be a target? In a bar?”
Peter took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I just have a bad feeling. Promise to be careful?”
She nodded. “I promise.”
Chapter 6
After one drink, Amy’s promise was long forgotten. Breathless from dancing, she sat at the table to cool off and rest her aching feet. It was the night to let loose and enjoy herself, something she’d never allowed herself to do in a bar before. Not only did her feet hurt from her heels, but her cheeks hurt from smiling.
“I’m so proud of you!” Zoe yelled over the thumping music, waving her arms in the air to the beat. “You’re having fun, aren’t you? Admit it.”
Amy’s glow-in-the-dark lips turned up in a full grin. “Yes, I’m having fun. Now let me rest.”
“Woohoo!” Zoe strutted back out to the dance floor to join the rest of the girls, leaving Amy to relax in the flashing laser lights and ear-splitting bass.
Kicking her shoes off, Amy sat back in her chair and sucked her Sex on the Beach through the penis straw. She gave all the credit to Peter. He had made her feel like it was okay to relax and enjoy herself. She didn’t have to be Miss Prim and Proper 24/7.
She’d have to tell him thank you next time she saw him. She twirled the penis necklace around her finger. The next time she would see him would probably be Thursday when she was working at Betty’s again and they called him in to ogle his ass. That was much too long to wait. Maybe she should just call him now.
She pulled her phone out and pulled up his name.
“Taking a breather, eh?”
Amy looked up at the stranger in front of her. Dark eyes peered down. His smile was tight and his face adorned with freckles. But his voice was the most noticeable feature. Melodic and a bit gravelly. A very odd mix. A peculiar tingle zipped down her spine and she gripped her phone. “Yes, just cooling off. I’m here with my friends.”
He smiled. “I got that. The whole penis ensemble and veils kinda gave it away.”
She grabbed at her blinking penis earrings. “Yeah, I guess we do stick out a bit.”
“Is your boyfriend here, too?”
“Oh no.” She shook her head furiously. “I don’t have a boyfriend. I’m…”
Shit. He’d given her the perfect out, and she screwed up by telling him the truth. Maybe the alcohol wasn’t such a good idea.
“I mean, I kinda have a boyfriend, but not really.”
“Oh, BOB?”
She crinkled her forehead. “No, I don’t know a Bob.”
The man laughed. “You know, battery operated boyfriend?”
“What?”
He cleared his throat and schooled his face. “Never mind. May I join you?”
“Well, I’m gonna go back out with the girls in just a minute.”
He pulled a chair out and sat. “I’ve enjoyed watching you. You look like you’re having a great time.”
The little black dress Amy wore suddenly felt too small. Why did she let Zoe talk her into wearing such a tiny thing? She pulled the bodice up, hoping to cover her cleavage. There was nothing she could do about the narrow straps or open back though. Or the short skirt. She was completely out there, unlike the conservative business clothing she was used to wearing.
He sat there staring at her, a goofy grin on his face. She was never the best at small talk, especially with someone she didn’t want to talk to in the first place.
More alcohol was what she needed. She took a large pull through the straw, sucking her cheeks in with half-drunken effort.
The man burst into laughter.
Damn, the stupid-ass penis straw.
“Hey, girl, how’s it shaking?” Two women sat down at the table with them. Amy studied and studied their faces. They looked familiar, but she couldn’t quite figure them out. The shorter one in the sparkling silver tank dress and heels that laced up to her thighs winked, then pulled the clip out of her hair and shook it out. “Whew, it’s hot in here isn’t it?”
Ah, the hair. That was the missing link. Shoulder length bleach-blonde with the hot pink strips on each side of her face. Lucy from the culture and art fair. The cop.
The other woman smiled shyly. Sarah, Hank’s friend. She was the opposite of Lucy, with long dark auburn hair and hazel eyes. She dressed extremely modestly compared to any other woman in the bar. Other than her legs, she had no skin showing whatsoever.
Lucy lifted her brow at Amy as if waiting for a response. Amy gave her a subtle nod. “That’s why I’m taking a rest. Glad you’re joining me.”
Lucy put her hair back up in the clip. “Got any extra straws?”
Amy fished around in her purse and brought one out. “This is all I have left, but I’ll gladly give up mine.”
“No, no, I’m fine,” Sarah said, holding her hand out to stop Amy from handing hers over. She darted her eyes away and bit her lip.
Lucy took the extra straw and plunked it into her glass. “So, are we having fun?”
The man glanced between the women and back at Amy. “Are they a part of your bachelorette party?”
Lucy’s heart stopped. “They’re, uh…”
Lucy looked him up and down. “We’re just friends offe
ring our bachelorette support. Are you our stripper?”
Once again, the man burst into laughter. “Well, I’ve never done that before, but I guess I could try. Should we take this party somewhere private?”
Sarah’s eyes went wide. The poor thing was more rattled than Amy was.
“And what will happen once you’re naked?” Lucy asked.
The man’s brow quirked. “I guess that remains to be seen.”
Lucy leaned forward in her chair and smiled wickedly. “Well, then, stick around and we’ll let you know when we’re ready for you.”
The man glanced back at Amy and winked. “Only if you’ll be there.”
Amy scooted back in her chair. “Um…”
The guy chuckled and lifted his gaze away from her, tapping his fingers and looking cool and calm as he scanned the crowd. Suddenly, his face paled. Slowly, he turned back to the ladies. “I think I’ll leave you all to your fun for now, but I’ll check back with you later.” He leaned toward Amy. “I thought your boyfriend wasn’t coming tonight.”
“I don’t have—”
“You’re lying.” He grimaced and raked his hands through his hair. “I mean, uh, you’re too pretty not to. There has to be someone interested in you.”
Amy’s mind spun as the man’s eyes pierced her while grabbing his drink. He rose and disappeared into the crowd.
She turned to Lucy and Sarah. “What was that all about?”
Lucy stuck her hand out. “Hi. I’m Lucy Abernathy, and this is Sarah O’Neal. Nice to meet you.”
Amy put her hand in Lucy’s and politely squeezed. “Amy.”
“We know.”
Lucy stood and wobbled, catching herself on the chair next to her. “Fucking high heels. How the hell are you supposed to fight crime in a slinky dress that doesn’t even cover your ass and shoes that should be licensed as weapons?”
Sarah cleared her throat. “You’re the one who picked out your clothes.”
“Just playing the role.”
“Whatever you say.”
A baritone voice sounded behind Amy. “Sarah, are you okay?”
Sarah’s face lit up. “You came!”
Amy turned to see an incredibly tall man beaming down at Sarah. Hank. Had to be. She hadn’t seem him close up in daylight, but now she knew he was handsome in a teddy-bear type of way. He was huge, but cute, not rugged like she’d expected.
He went to Sarah and pulled a chair up beside her. “I told you I’d come when I got off work. I don’t like you going to these kinds of places alone.”
Lucy glared. “Excuse me?”
“You know what I mean.”
“No, I don’t. I’m a cop. Your lady friend is quite safe with me.”
Sarah put her hand on Hank’s arm and rested her head against his shoulder.
Peter walked up, eyes narrowed and jaw clenched, gazing into the crowd. “Who was that guy sitting here?”
Lucy rolled her eyes. “Jealous that some dude was hitting on your girl?”
Peter ignored the comment and continued to scan through the laser lights at the mass of writhing bodies.
Amy’s heart fluttered. His voice alone launched her into the clouds, but the alcohol intensified it. She gazed at him dreamily. “Peter? What are you doing here?”
Lucy walked over to the chair that the mystery man had been sitting in. “You people make me gag. Stop with all the lovey-dovey shit.”
Peter glared at Lucy. “What lovey-dovey shit? Someone tell me who that guy was. Now.”
“Cool it, Rambo. I’ve got it all under control.” Lucy pulled a dusting kit from her purse and looked around to see if anyone was watching.
Peter held his phone out. “Amy, what was that guy’s name? I’ll run a check on him.”
“For sitting here?”
“He’s a suspect.”
“For what?”
“I don’t know, but Lucy’s checking his prints, so there has to be a reason. What’s his name?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t ask.”
“Amy, dammit, I told you to pay attention!”
“Don’t yell at me! I’m here to have fun and be with my sister and dance and drink fruity alcoholic beverages through penises and practice my technique sneakily ogling hot men.”
Peter blinked. “What?”
“I don’t know. I’m drunk.”
“You’re drunk? While you’re in danger?”
“I’m not in…” She looked at Lucy and back at Peter. “Lucy’s shoes are weapons. She said so herself. Is she like a, what do they call that guy with all the gadgets?” She tapped her temple. “Oh yeah. Bond. James Bond.” She broke out in a fit of giggles.
Peter glared at Amy. Amy took in a deep breath, narrowed her eyes, and glared back. Then she picked up her drink and sucked through the straw. Alcohol. She needed more alcohol.
Peter’s nostrils flared as she sucked. His eyes zoned in on her mouth, emboldening her to suck harder and longer.
“Amy, you look…” Amy’s belly fluttered as she waited for the words. Subtly, she slid her hand down her front and tugged her bodice down to reveal her cleavage. Thank goodness the straps were narrow and the back was open. Her sister was a genius for making her wear it. She leaned closer waiting for Peter to finish. His eyes roamed over her hair, her face, her neck, and cleavage. He grinned and flipped her blinking penis earrings. “You look ridiculous.”
She pushed her way out of her chair, forgetting that one foot was still injured. Grabbing hold of the back of her chair, she fumbled to find her shoes under it.
“Amy, don’t be mad. I was talking about all your jewelry and that….what kind of lipstick are you wearing?”
She wiped at her mouth, pulling the glowing streak across her cheek.
He tried again. “Honey, really, under all the penises, you look beautiful, I swear.”
She rocked with dizziness as she bent over for her shoes, stumbling into Peter. Arms tight, he caught her and helped her stand upright. She shoved him away. “I don’t need you to hold me up.”
“Really?”
A sharp smack on Amy’s bottom sent her flying into him. “What the hell was that for?” she snarled.
“Wasn’t me.” Eyes wide, Peter held his hands up.
“It was me, beautiful sister!” Zoe said, twirling past them. “Get out there and dance with us!”
“I’m trying. I just need to shoe my foot on. Foot my put on. Put my foot in my shoe. Or something like that.”
Zoe clapped her hands and squealed. “Amy’s drunk! Woot, woot!”
Amy pointed at Peter. “This is my friend Peter. Isn’t he hot? He has a really nice ass.” She swirled her finger in the air. “Peter, turn around so Zoe can see your ass.”
Ignoring Amy’s order, Peter stuck his hand out to Zoe. “Congratulations on your upcoming marriage.”
Zoe squealed again. “Amy has a friend who’s a boy. A boy friend. Girls, Amy has a boyfriend!”
Peter dropped his hand and watched Zoe run off to the other ladies draped in penises. “You and your sister are nothing alike, are you?”
“Can you hold me up while I foot my shoe on?”
“You just yelled at me for helping you.”
“I know, but the floor keeps shaking.”
Gingerly, Peter rested his hands on her waist. She slipped into her shoe and pulled away, only to wobble in her heels. Relief flooded her when a slow song came on. She’d be much less likely to fall and get hurt.
Peter slid his arm around her waist and helped her onto the dance floor. “Come on. I’ll help you.”
“I don’t think I can in the middle of an earthquake. Shouldn’t we be taking cover?”
“I’ve got you.” He stopped in the middle of the floor and pulled her close. “Just lean into me and I’ll hold you up.”
“Oh, okay.” She threw her arms around his neck and rested her head against his chest. “Why aren’t you falling down?”
“I’m not drunk.”
&nbs
p; “Oh. Am I drunk?”
“Yes.”
“Oh.”
“How much did you drink?”
“I don’t know.” She scrunched her face and looked up at him, sticking a finger in his face. “One and a half that I know of.”
He chuckled and pulled her head against him again.
Peter
Peter ran his fingers through her soft curls under the penis veil. “Amy, are you sleeping against me? The song’s over.”
He buried his nose in her hair and spoke into her ear. He couldn’t help it. The floral scent of her hair was too much to resist. “Amy.”
She lifted her head. “What?”
Her body shifted against his and he groaned in both pleasure and frustration as she brushed against his hard cock. “Slow song’s over, babe. We need to get off the dance floor or we’ll get trampled with all the bumping and grinding.”
“Oh.” She plopped her head back against his chest.
“Do I have to pick you up and carry you off the floor?”
“Okay.”
“Your ass will show.”
“Okay.”
“Can you say anything besides oh and okay?”
“Maybe.”
He turned her side by side next to him and tucked her under his arm, then half dragged, half carried her off the floor. “I’m not very happy with you for getting this shit-faced when you knew you were in danger.”
“I didn’t mean to. I’ve never drank alcohol before.”
“Now wasn’t the time to start. You’re not taking your safety seriously.”
She turned into him and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling herself up his body and hanging on tight. “But you came to take care of me. You’re my hero.”
Desire exploded throughout his entire being as she clung to him. She nestled her face against his neck and sighed, sending shocks straight to his groin. He groaned and held her close, whispering against her skin. “Honey, you need to get off me.”
“I’m thanking you.”
“Hell yes, you are, but now’s not the time.”
Her pelvis jolted against his, shoving her warmth against his rock hard cock. “Fuck, what was that?” he hissed.
She jerked in his arms and turned her head. “Will you stop smacking my ass?”
Luck o' the (non)Irish (New Haven Police Romance Series Book 1) Page 5