by Cara Scott
By the time I've showered and changed into pajamas, Ava is walking in through the door with her panties in her hand and a glow radiating from her I'd deeply envy if I could remember what it felt like.
I grin at her. “I take it Detective Miller performed his duty to your satisfaction.”
She gives an Ava leer and collapses on my couch, holding up three fingers. “Oh yeah, satisfied me again and again and again.” Drop curling a finger with each ‘again’, she turns sideways towards me. “But, hell, who’s counting.”
I frown fondly. “Lucky you!” I pour us both a glass of water. “Cocoa?”
Ava sits up and downs most of the glass. “Grandma’s recipe?”
My grandmother’s cocoa was the best, guaranteed to provide a good night’s sleep. I found out why when she let me in on the secret a few months before she died. Half cream and a teaspoon of whiskey. It stopped doing the trick for me months ago. I head into the kitchen and Ava joins me. She sits at the table. I turn on the burner and add the milk, cream, cocoa and whisky. Keeping it at a slow heat, I start to slowly whisk. Standing looking out at the creek from my grandmother’s solid range is straight from a childhood memory. It feels right. Connected.
I glance over at Ava. She grins at me “You know, if you really want a good night’s sleep you should be having some of what I just had.”
I turn to her with a matching grin. “You think so? Maybe? But don’t you think you’ve worn him out too much to service me as well?”
“Smart ass. Actually, he's probably ready to go again by now, but you know damn well I wasn’t talking about him.”
I don’t answer her. I gaze out the window instead.
Across the creek, framed by the dark, distant outline of the majestic Rockies, I can see the opposite dock. Mason and Cord are walking down with beers in hand. I guess they decided to have their nightcaps outside. They're two very fine male specimens and I can’t help staring. At 6’3” Mason’s lithe, tawny-haired, graceful physique is an inch or so taller than Cord’s dark, rough good looks.
Ironic really, Cord has the typical hard man appearance against Mason’s more refined appeal, but Cord’s a soft mark really. Of the two, Mason is unquestionably the tough guy. Not for the first time, I get hot imagining him in the interrogation room. I redden heatedly as a steamy little role-play around that room starts to invade my mind. I turn to Ava to distract my wayward thoughts.
“You could be right, the guys are out on the dock. Maybe I should go ask him.”
“Hell right! You should go ask, him. Mason, that is!” She fires me a suspicious frown. “You’ve been holding out on me, Maura girl.”
She gets up and joins me to look out the window. “Just look at Detective Sex-on-Legs, out there. He’s gorgeous. He lives right next door and clearly likes you. What’s wrong with you woman. You should be lucky every night with him just across the way. Not to mention lunch time quickies.”
I shift awkwardly. I try to ignore the heat in my womb and the hope in my heart her assertion unwisely arouses. “He doesn’t like me. He just likes acting all alpha protective around women. He can’t help it. He’s a Johnson. It’s in his genes.”
Ava looks at me with a raised eyebrow. “Duh! Exactly. It's hot! I love a protective, alpha male. That’s how they claim you, sweetie. And, you are all pouty defiant with him, acting out your part of the mating ritual. That was a cute little stunt you pulled to get his attention.”
I look at her belligerently. “What stunt?”
She snorts. “Teetering on the dock like that. You sure know how to press his buttons.”
I consider another denial, but think better of it.
She's got a point.
“You can’t fool me, Maura. You like him too. A lot. So why aren’t you together?” She accepts the cup I give her, sips from her cocoa and gives me a shrewd look. “What gives, girlfriend? Spill.”
Mason
I walk quickly away from Maura’s place, avoiding the temptation to look back at her. Another evening when she cold shoulders me or rejects any advice I have to offer. Except when I put my arm around her when we walked back. That was a surprise. She leaned into me and I swear she snuggled in and inhaled against my chest. When I draped my jacket over her, she pulled it around her.
It's pathetic how much that sight and her unexpected gruff “Thanks” warmed me.
Ever since she came crashing into my life, eight years ago, she's been firing volleys at me from her gorgeous bee-stung mouth and green-fire eyes. Even her apologies sound more like challenges. Always have, ever since she landed at my feet after denting my pride and joy and tried to act like it was no big deal.
I remember the surge of relief after the hot rush of terror when she lay unmoving at my feet, looking deathly pale, eyes closed with smoky long lashes and all that gorgeous dark hair fanned around her. As well as the way she stood up, tossed back her long mane of hair, dusted off the seat of her low-slung, should be illegal, too tight jeans, and told me with a cute, little shrug to get over it, you could hardly see the tiny, little ding.
I had no idea who this curvy bundle of female trouble was, but right from the start, I could tell she needed protecting. She was riding on her bike down a steep incline. Without my Harley in the way, she'd have gone over the edge. It was just too fucking dangerous. So typical of her. Just plain reckless.
I reach my place and consider cracking open a beer. I decide to wait for Cord. He won’t be back for a while considering how he and Ava where going at it. Maura’s place only has one bedroom. No matter how cozy he gets with Ava, he'll be back. Neither of us is on duty until Monday night. It’ll be good to spend some time catching up over a few beers.
That’s why I moved things along so he and Ava could hook up. They were both itching so much for each other it was time to get down to the scratching. Ava is a real sex kitten. She and Maura are very different, but I'm glad Maura has her. She’s a solid friend.
Her tall, cool blonde looks aren’t my preference, but she usually bowls over most men. She’s not shy about going after what she wants. Ava is just what Cord needs.
Shaking off my disgruntled mood, I decide on a late night swim. The water is a mix of the chill of the creek and heat of the geothermal currents our state is famous for. I consider swimming further up near the hot springs. There’s a spot where I like to laze in the warm water under the small waterfall. I decide against it. The cold grip of the creek is in keeping with my mood. The stimulation is just what I need. After a while, my tension starts to ease away.
My family has owned the land on this part of the creek for over a century and a half and the Michaels have owned that patch beside us for almost as long. The continuity of it feels good, right. After my swim, I grab a shower and pull on jeans and a t-shirt. Walking into the living room, I find Cord sitting in front of my now blazing fireplace, with his feet up, knocking back one of my beers, well pleased with himself.
“Hey, buddy.” He greets me too cheerfully. “Went for a swim, huh? Guess it works better than a cold shower. Or not.” He baits me with a grin.
I grunt, flop down on my couch and flip him the bird. If he wasn’t my best friend, not to mention house guest, I might deck him, like I wanted to earlier. I take a slug from the opened beer he hands me.
He looks ar me and says what has become almost a litany over the past couple of years. “You need to go for it, Mason. She has you tied in knots. Just fuck her, for Chrissake.”
“Oh right. Sure, no problem. How do you suggest I do that? I can’t even get her to dance with me.” I shift uneasily in my chair. “Not tonight or the night we met! Remember?”
“Sure, I remember. I remember you gave up too easy. Tonight, just like back then. If you pushed her, she’d say yes. Trouble is, you accept her no at face value. She wants you, Johnson. I know it. No matter how much she knocks you back. In fact, the more she says no, the more she means yes.”
“Listen to yourself, Miller. You’re a cop. You spent three years
in city vice and now you’re in homicide. You know you just spouted the worst kind of classic crap men use to excuse harassing and bullying women.”
“You really need to get laid, man. Lighten up. You know what I mean.”
I grunt again. “Yeah, alright. I get it. The chemistry’s there and I probably could turn her around if I worked at it. That’s the problem. She’s too high maintenance. The challenge might be a turn on if she was just some conquest for a few hook ups, but Maura’s a keeper. No way I want an argument with my woman every time I turn around, no matter how beautiful her face and adorable her ass.”
Cord laughs. “She makes you work at it anyhow, Johnson. She constantly pushes your buttons. Look at how she gave you a hard time at the celebrations and manipulated you out on the dock.”
I look across at him, sharply. “What do you mean, out on the dock?”
His tone is exasperated, laced with friendly derision. “You really are thick, dude. She was jealous of the attention you were paying, Ava. So she pulled you by making you worry about her safety. She gets you with that one every time.”
He sits back and twists off the ring pull on his beer can flinging it in the fire. “It would be funny except its being going on so long it’s starting to piss me off. Hell, if you’d followed through like you should have back when she first dented your fender, I'd have been best man at your wedding and godfather to a couple of your kids by now.”
I shake my head. “She wasn’t jealous. She just wanted to distract me from telling Ava the story of the dent on the Harley’s fender.”
“Naw, she was jealous, really hot jealous. It was all over her face and her curvy body was all fired up with it. I’m telling you, she wants you. And you sure as hell want her. She’s all you talk about, man.”
Cord’s right. Her intelligence and her spirit intrigue me and, for some unfathomable reason, the need to protect her consumes much of my waking hours and a few of my dreams as well, especially these past months.
Deep down, I know my buddy is right. Despite his talk, he’s a huge, mushy romantic. Lately I’ve come to understand what Cord’s always known. No other woman is right for me. That’s why he always roots for me and Maura for a Happy Ever After.
He stands up, stretches and offers a diversion. “Come on, I need to take in some of this fresh, country night air. Like my mother tells me, can’t get that back in the city.”
We pick up our beers and head out in silence. Walking down to the dock is a nightly ritual for me. I cast my usual look over to Maura’s tiny ranch house. The lights are still on and I can see her at the window of the kitchen. I smile. No doubt, she's treating Ava to Grandma Michaels’ cocoa. Maybe that, along with the celebrations and distraction of Ava’s visit, will give her a decent sleep tonight.
Too often in the past months, returning from my various night time shifts, I’ve seen her lights on as she struggles to sleep or burns the midnight oil on that stupid case. She's no idea that, from my vantage point on the dock, when her lights are on at night, I can see right in her house.
Including her bedroom.
I suppose I should feel guilty about watching her. Especially when my interest is fueled by the sight of her gorgeous, curvy body while dressing and undressing. I’d like to claim that I’m ever the gentleman. That I respect her privacy and look discreetly away, but hell, I’m no saint.
We reach the dock and Cord lets out a sigh of satisfaction. The distant outline of the Rockies are silhouetted against the velvet dark, starred sky. The crisp night breeze and reassuring silence of the semi-wilderness washes over us. I could never live in the city. I don’t know how Cord can after growing up here.
My buddy has other things than the natural beauty surrounding us on his mind. His tone has turned serious, a departure from his usual baiting. “Why do you never go for it with her, Mason?”
I shrug. Good question. “Maura’s too independent. I’m too protective. We’d clash too much as a couple.” I take a slug of my beer and then shake my head. “I just can’t stomach the idea of constant conflict and rows.”
Cord turns exasperated. He comes from a big, happy, two parent family and has little understanding or patience for any hang-ups I have over what he sees as the aberration of my parents. “Not every couple fights like your mom and dad, Mason.”
I'm not convinced. The image of my parents’ violent fights before my father left are too stark in my early childhood memories, along with frequent calls to domestic scenes in my early days on the force. Not to mention any number of couples of my acquaintance who just plain bicker and pick at each other all the time.
The idea repulses me. I’d rather stay alone than live that way.
So, I've got into the habit of giving Maura Michaels a wide berth over the years. It was easier when she went to law school and only visited her grandparents in the vacations. When she came back to practice law, our paths crossed more often. She seemed mellower at first. Her grandparent’s inheritance let her develop her own practice slowly.
Like her grandfather before her, she built a name for herself as an advocate for the underdog. She seemed happy in that role and her smile, the one that tilts up on one side and takes a sweet, slow, enticing moment to reach her eyes, began to show up on a regular basis.
Cord’s voice cuts across the heart stopping picture of Maura directing that tilted smile at me. “I thought you two were getting along real well, last year. Didn’t you work together on a foster case?”
“Yeah.” Cord’s right. We did get on during that case. And that sweet smile of hers came my way a fair bit. I sit up straighter, stirred by the memory. “Hell, I actually thought it might be worth the effort to go for it with her then.”
“What happened?”
I growl darkly. “She took the job at the prosecutor’s office, that’s what happened. That’s when things went badly south. It brought us head to head way too often. I hate to see her caught up with the corruption and sordid side of the law.” I give Cord a sidelong look. “I know you think I’m sexist about that, but I can’t help it. My protective streak is just too ingrained.”
“Yeah, I did think you were too protective, but seeing the change in her since she took the job, especially since she took the Gemcor case, I get your concerns. Maybe you should go with your gut about protecting her, Mason.”
Cord’s shoulders droop. His voice takes on a harder note. “Thing is, I just might be coming round to your way of thinking there, buddy.” He pauses and then announces, his voice tight with anger and frustration, “I think Raisa is sleeping with Leo Gold.”
I turn to him surprized at the sudden serious turn in the conversation. “What! The Leo Gold. The scion of the Gold Crime Family. Human trafficking, drugs, prostitution. International clubs with the tag line, ‘Where’s the fun in playing safe?’ That Leo Gold?”
Cord nods. I can feel the misery coming from him in waves. Raisa and Cord go way back. All three of us do. We were tight throughout training at the academy in Casper. Cord ended up partnering her in vice for three years until he was promoted to homicide last year. She means a lot to him. She wasn’t just his partner, their connection goes even deeper than that. It’s like she’s another sibling as well as a former partner. Worry for her must be eating him up.
“Why didn’t you tell me? Letting me talk on when you’re carrying that around. Those clubs are bad news, people get hurt there. Badly. Since when?”
Raisa's quite a woman. A dedicated detective and a bit of a badass in a really sexy way. But there was never any hint of romance with either of us or anyone it seemed. She made it clear she didn’t do relationships at all and only hooked up with guys who understood that. Over the years, we got to know she was carrying around a lot of baggage about men from her early teenage years in foster homes. She didn’t volunteer much info about it and we didn’t pry. We had too much affection for her to ever make a move. The fact that she’s hooked up with a mob guy now is bad.
“It’s not just sex either. L
ooks like she’s fallen for him.” Cord mutters darkly.
I whistle and run my hands through my hair. “How's she getting away with the association in her position? Hasn’t she been awarded a police scholarship to go to law school?”
“That’s why I say I’m with you in protecting women from corruption. It's fucking FBI sanctioned. They want her to sleep with him. They're banking on good old fashioned pillow talk to bust the whole Gold operation wide open.”
“You mean she's in there undercover? He’s her target.”
“Yeah.” He looks even more miserable.
I give another low whistle. “They could’ve miscalculated there. If she’s fallen for him, her loyalties may end up with him. Assholes! They’ve no right putting her in that position, having to make that choice.”
“Yeah and there's nothing I can do about it. So, I’m just saying, maybe you should go with your gut about protecting, Maura.”
I nod slowly. Cord’s advice only hardens what has been a building resolve over the past months. Maura in the prosecutor’s office is bad enough, but her taking that Gemcor case was the last straw. That case is a whole mess of trouble I want her out of.
I'm determined I will get her out it.
Whatever it takes.
Maura
I sip my cocoa and walk away from Ava into the living room. Sitting in my armchair, I have an even better view of the two men on the dock. Mason looks across the creek. For a moment it’s almost like he can see inside the house. Maybe even inside me.
I hold my breath. The moment passes and both men turn and make their way back up to the house. I release my breath and think about earlier tonight. I remember Mason’s power when he picked me up from the water’s edge. The feel of his body heat. The protective weight of his arm, along with the gentle way he placed his jacket around me. Yes, I've totally overdosed on Mason Johnson’s attractions tonight.