Officer Breaks the Rules (Semper Fidelis. Always Faithful.)

by Murray, Jeanette

  Nurse Henley gave her the beady eye, then Matthew, who slowly slithered down to the floor from the countertop and began recounting the sterile cup packs. “No hanky-panky in the supply closet. You wanna do something dirty, you take it home.” With that short—and completely unnecessary—lecture complete, she let the door swing shut behind her.

  Madison and Matthew waited to the count of ten by silent agreement, then burst out laughing.

  “That never gets old,” she said, wiping her eyes. “Do you think everyone in this place just assumes we’re secretly humping in every dark corner?”

  Matthew straightened from holding his gut with laughter. “You know, if I had to choose a beard, you’d be my number one pick.”

  “Aw, that’s sweet.” She gave him the finger and started counting all over, having lost her place.

  “Well, tell me. Wouldn’t you use me?”

  Madison didn’t look up from her counting. “For what?”

  “A beard.”

  “I’m straight.”

  “Not the point. It’s hypothetical.”

  Madison sighed and stretched her neck, realizing she lost count again. “Fine. In theory if I needed a beard for something…” She trailed off as her mind drifted into plan-making mode.

  “For something,” Matthew prompted.

  “Shh,” she shushed him, staring blankly at the wall next to the door.

  A minute passed, then two. And then she smiled, a large smile. “You know… I might need a beard after all.”

  One of Matthew’s brows rose. “Going girl on us, are we?”

  She snorted. “Not even close. No offense.”

  “None taken. I don’t wanna go girl either.”

  “Ha. Clever. But no. I might borrow you and your… muscles. Just for a little bit, if you’re not opposed.”

  He shrugged a shoulder. “What for?”

  Madison headed for the door, cart trailing behind her. “Are you free on Saturday? I’ve got a friend who needs help putting together some furniture.”

  ***

  Skye bound in to Madison’s apartment, arms full of bags. “I’m sorry I’m so late!”

  Madison just laughed. As usual, her sister-in-law was moving to her own schedule of life. “It’s fine. Jeremy just got here a few minutes ago. Veronica’s in the bedroom with him, helping him figure out where the best place for all the furniture is before they start building. Which I think takes some of the fun out of it, but they didn’t ask me.”

  “Oh. Good.” Skye let the bags drop to the floor where she stood. “I was running a few minutes behind from my shift at work, but then I realized I hadn’t gotten her anything as a housewarming gift.”

  “The house is already warm. I’ve lived here for months,” Madison pointed out as she started to dig through the bags.

  “You have, but she hasn’t. I thought just a token or two would be a good sign of support, now that she has her own place—so to speak.”

  “Thoughtful, anyway.” That was Skye. Always looking out for others.

  “Is Veronica okay back there with Jeremy?”

  Madison glanced up at Skye, confused about the worried tone in her friend’s voice. “I assume so, since she was the one who suggested he help her figure out the placement before he set the stuff up. Why?”

  Skye waved it off, as if she hadn’t just asked a strange question. “No reason. I just thought since they hadn’t been around each other as often, she might be nervous.” When Madison cocked a brow at her, she added, “Because she’s so shy.”

  “Hmm.” Madison moved some of the bags to the couch to clear the path for when they brought over boxes later. “I don’t know if she’s shy so much as just unsure. I think sometimes I don’t give her enough credit. She’s soft-spoken, but she’s no pushover.”

  Skye thought it over for a moment. “You’re right. I need to stop playing mother hen. She’s a big girl.”

  Veronica walked in at that moment. “Do you want to come see the placement, Madison? I told Jeremy to wait until you gave the okay to set it all up.”

  Madison blew out a breath and shoved a strand of hair behind her ear. “Sweetie, we’ve been over this. It’s your apartment too now. So you don’t need me to give you the okay before you go ahead and pick where your furniture goes in your own bedroom.”

  Veronica’s eyes went a little dreamy. Madison imagined some women might look that way when they were thinking of their wedding day, or staring at their newborn baby. For Veronica, all it took was a room of her own. Very strange. And a little sad, though Madison struggled not to think of it that way.

  “Well, I’d like your input anyway, if you don’t mind.”

  “Sure. Why the hell not?” She dusted off her hands on her jeans and headed back to the bedroom where Jeremy was surrounded by posts and metal framing and little bags of screws. The furniture, a nice oak color, was laying in pieces on top of the cardboard boxes they were packed in. And teeny tiny little white flecks that flaked off of the Styrofoam padding for the furniture were currently littering the carpet. Damn. She’d have to get the vacuum out later. She hated vacuuming.

  No, she wouldn’t. This was Veronica’s room now. She smiled slowly, positively gleeful that she was now responsible for cleaning much less square footage.

  “Wow, looks like the IKEA fairy landed.”

  Jeremy huffed out a laugh. “Yeah. She’s got a lot of stuff. I wasn’t sure it’d all fit, actually.”

  “Oh.” Veronica’s face fell. “Do you think it won’t? Well, if it’s not—”

  “I was kidding.” Jeremy gave Veronica a gentle smile. “Of course it’ll all fit. Remember? We just measured it. You picked great spots.”

  Veronica melted a little at that. Not in the hot guy complimented me, I’m so into him sort of way, but more like, I don’t hear compliments far enough in my life sort of way. Madison felt that same wave of sadness curl up her throat, but she battled it back down. There was a positive side to this… Jeremy’s soft treatment and understanding.

  “Thanks. You’ve been working so hard at this. I’ll get you a bottle of water. You want a bottle of water, right? How about something to eat, like a granola bar? Or a bowl of cereal? I can’t cook well, but I could make you an omelet.”

  Madison watched from another angle as Jeremy reached behind him nonchalantly and rolled the almost-full bottle of water sitting behind him under a piece of paper. “You know, a bottle of water would be fantastic. I’d appreciate that.”

  Eager to help, Veronica scooted out of the way, calling, “Be right back!” over her shoulder.

  Madison smiled a little to herself.

  Jeremy cocked his head to the side. “What’s so amusing?”

  She held up three fingers and ticked them down one by one. “Cue the blowup in three… two… one…”

  “Bottled water? What in the world does she have bottled water in here for?” Skye’s voice was clear as day all the way from the kitchen as she huffed and started lecturing Veronica on the evils of plastic.

  Jeremy gave her a grin. “Looks like you’re busted.”

  “It happens. I forgot she was coming over or I would have put out the filter pitcher. I’ll get the lecture later, for which I will appear duly chastised. And then we both walk away knowing I’ll end up doing what I want to anyway and we’ll be repeating the process in another month. At least I recycle.” She grinned when Jeremy chuckled, then toed a bag of screws to the side. “This looks like the world’s most annoying craft project. Need any help?”

  “Yeah, if you don’t mind.” Jeremy patted the carpet by him and she sat down, legs crossed beneath her. “Veronica’s a sweetheart, but she’s really not much help with this. Too nervous, her hands shake. Not that it’s rocket science, but a second pair of hands to hold stuff steady is always wel
come. Plus, my arms are getting tired. One piece of furniture is one thing. But an entire bedroom set, damn.”

  “No problem. Steady hands, aye.”

  He laughed and bumped her shoulder with his, then went back to reading the instructions.

  She resisted the urge to glance over his shoulder, using the guise of checking the directions for a chance to press her body against his. Not in her plan. Not today.

  Jeremy’s voice cut through her mental scheming. He held the instructions out, turning them one way and another, as if not sure he was even looking at them right side up. “Okay, grab post A and slide it around so it’s ready for screw three and the spring thing to connect it to post F.”

  Madison stared at the available pieces of wood and metal. “That wasn’t English.”

  “It was IKEA English. Which is recognized in at least twenty states.” Jeremy reached over her lap and grabbed a mini wrenchlike object, his arm brushing against her breasts as he pulled back.

  Madison’s nipples hardened automatically, as they usually did when he touched her. Jeremy, on the other hand, didn’t even seem to realize they’d touched, let alone where. He had eyes for IKEA only.

  The furniture floozy.

  There was a knock at the door, and Madison was reminded of her master plan. Or, well, at least the next step of the ever-evolving master plan. Though, now that Matthew was there, she almost regretted having started it. No going back now, though.

  She heard Skye’s confused greeting, then Matthew’s more lively hello.

  Jeremy cocked his head to one side. “Who’s that?”

  “Oh, I invited another friend over. Wasn’t sure how involved this process might get. Thought the help might be welcome,” she said, like it was no big deal.

  In theory, it wasn’t.

  In practice, it was a big deal. A big fucking deal.

  Suddenly, she second-guessed her choice of involving Matthew in the plan. He’d agreed to be a willing participant, so it wasn’t as if she tricked him into coming. But still…

  As Matthew’s obviously male voice grew louder, following Skye down the hallway toward the bedroom, Jeremy’s eyes shifted a little. “Friend, huh?”

  “Yup. Guy I work with at the hospital. He’s great; you’ll like him.” All true. She was positive that Matthew and Jeremy would be great friends, if they met under the right circumstances.

  These, however, weren’t such.

  “Mad, hey!” Matthew walked into the room, picked her up under the armpits, and hauled her up for a big hug, spinning her around once.

  Over his shoulder, she couldn’t help but notice Jeremy staring holes through Matthew’s head before directing his intense focus down to the paper clenched in his hands.

  Okay. She started it, so she had to go with it. Plan Matthew Makes Moves was now in action.

  ***

  Who the hell was this dude?

  A tall guy with a tight graphic T-shirt and shaggy blond hair stepped into the room. Without hesitation, the new guy greeted Madison, picked her up, and spun her around like a toy.

  Jeremy watched as the guy’s hand slid down to support her body from her thighs, just under the curve of her ass.

  Friend from work, he mentally scoffed. Like fucking hell.

  The other man set her down and grinned. “So how goes it? You said you needed help with furniture?”

  Jeremy stood up, and the other man’s eyes widened, as if he hadn’t realized anyone else was even in the room. “Yeah, sorry you got dragged away from… whatever you were doing. I’ve got it, though.”

  “Oh. Well, I’m already here to lend a hand. Maybe it’ll go faster this way.” The guy shrugged, then held out a hand. The sleeve of his shirt cut into the muscle in his arm. The guy looked like he lifted weights and surfed for a living. A beach bum with a gym membership. “Matt McCormick. Call me Matthew.”

  Jeremy shook his hand, doing his best to not squeeze too hard like a douchebag. “Jeremy Phillips.” He took his hand back and wiped it on his pants before he could help it. “So you guys work together?”

  “Yup.” Matthew slung an arm around Madison’s shoulders, to which she rolled her eyes in response. What did that mean? Did she not want the guy putting the moves on her? “We work the same nursing rotation. Hey, wait. Jeremy Phillips. Yeah, I remember you. You came in the other week after laying down your bike, right?”

  He held back a wince. Not a finer moment he wanted to remember. “That’s me.”

  “Cool. Glad you’re okay, man.” Matthew surveyed the room with everything laid out, then swiped the hair out of his eyes with one hand.

  Get a haircut, hippie. Jeremy shook off the negative thought. He had no right to feel this… jealous? Was that what this burning, pinching feeling in his chest was all about?

  “So, just putting together some furniture, right?” He bent over to pick up one of the instruction sheets. “I actually have this dresser at my place. I’ve had to take it apart and move it twice already. I could put it together in my sleep now.”

  “Great!” Madison said, eyes lighting up.

  “I got it,” Jeremy insisted, pulling the paper out of the other guy’s hand. “They asked me to do this as a favor, so I’m working on it.”

  “Two heads are better than one and all that,” Matthew said easily, taking the paper back.

  “Too many cooks,” Jeremy replied, grabbing the paper and stepping away. And then he felt about three feet tall… the average height of a five-year-old. Exactly how he was acting.

  Madison glared at him. Without removing her all-too-knowing gaze, she patted Matthew’s arm. “How about you help us load some of Veronica’s boxes over at Skye’s place? So when the furniture is done, Veronica has something to put away.”

  Matthew stared at him too, and there was no mistaking the tone of this gaze. Primitive, all the way. One male taking measure of another. Though how he measured up, Jeremy had no idea. “Sure. No prob.” He turned and headed back to the living room by himself, calling out to Skye along the way as if they were already best friends.

  There was a beat of silence. Then Madison nudged a metal bar with the toe of her running shoe. “I might need to go help him.”

  “Sure.” Jeremy realized, as she was turning to go, he didn’t want her to leave. Not with Matthew. But really, not at all. Her sitting with him, surrounded by puzzle pieces claiming to be furniture parts, was the most relaxed he’d been in who knew how long. And he wanted more. Stupid as it was, dangerous as it was, he wanted more of it.

  “Will you be okay here?” She stared at him, as if this were a serious question. Like there was a definite right or wrong answer.

  He always hated these types of questions in school. Give him an essay any day.

  “Yeah. I’ll be fine. I’m a guy; we build shit. It’s what we do. Hammer, saw, screwdriver.” He sat back down, refusing to look at her face for his own safety. He didn’t want to know if he chose right or wrong.

  It felt wrong. It felt really wrong to him. But that didn’t matter.

  “Okay.” Her voice sounded small for once, rather than the larger-than-life quality it usually had. “I’ll be—we’ll be back later, then.”

  He waved over his shoulder, as if it didn’t matter where she was or what she did or who she did it with.

  But it mattered. It shouldn’t. But it mattered so fucking much.

  Chapter 7

  Madison sat in the car, folding and unfolding her fingers together, not sure at all that she’d played this hand well.

  “Being a beard is fun.”

  She slapped at Matthew’s arm without looking at him. “You’re not a real beard. I’m not pretending to be straight.”

  “You’re pretending. Isn’t that the major point of the beard? Being something you’re not?”


  “What am I pretending to be?”

  She slid her eyes over to Matthew’s in the driver’s seat, only to catch a hell of a look from him.

  “You’re pretending not to be in the mush with that guy.”

  “In. The. Mush.” Madison shook her head and laughed, albeit hollowly. “There’s a new one.”

  “It’ll catch on. Face it, Mad. You’ve got it, and you’ve got it bad.” He stopped for a moment, then chuckled. “Just call me Usher.”

  Madison groaned. “Awful. I’m going to call you awful if you keep this up.”

  “I say this with all the platonic love in my heart, but you are the world’s worst person at hiding shit. It’s written all over your face. He might not see it, because guys tend to wear blinders at the most inappropriate times. Mostly when it concerns themselves.”

  “So what am I pretending to not be again?”

  Matthew reached over and squeezed her knee. “Not completely in love with him. And totally okay with the fact that he isn’t going to be asking you over tonight to watch the game.”

  “What game?” As far as she knew, no games were playing that anyone would care about.

  Matthew shrugged. “Isn’t that what all guys use as code for ‘Come over for some beer and sex?’ No? Just me then, huh?”

  She slugged him again.

  He laughed, pretended to veer the car off the road at her abuse, then straightened. “Be nice, or I won’t share the bright sunny side to this whole tragic thing.”

  Madison perked a little. “There’s a bright side?”

  “Oh yeah.” Matthew made the turn, following Skye back to the townhouse where Veronica had left all the boxes full of her possessions. “And it’s really very simple. Funny how women tend to wear blinders right back.”

  “Speak English please, Usher,” she said through her teeth.

  “He’s dying about it. The whole ‘I want you but I think I can’t have you’ thing is killing him. He wanted to rip my head off, stuff it down the garbage disposal, and toss a few lemons in after it.”

  “He looked fine.” Madison reached for the door handle as he put the car in park, but Matthew’s hand covered hers.