“I’m going to have to cite you for shoplifting,” I tell the woman.
“Do I get to keep the stuff for lunch?” she asks.
“I’m afraid not.”
“He’s not going to resell it. He’ll probably just throw it away. And I’m hungry.”
The woman probably did steal the stuff because she didn’t have anything to eat. I feel bad for her, but she did break the law. “There’s a place in town for seniors to sign up for free meals,” I tell her.
She glares at me. “How old do you think I am?”
“I was only trying to help.”
“Officer Jackson,” I turn to Cody. “If you could get a statement from the manager while I write the citation.”
As Cody works with the manager I do the paperwork on our shoplifter.
***
Cody hasn’t said much to me all afternoon. He seems to be completely lost in his own thoughts.
Just as I’m about to try to start a conversation I notice a grey Mercedes inching down the road at a snail’s pace. It’s going so slow that the drivers in the cars behind him or her are honking their horns.
I turn on the cruiser’s lights to pull the car over.
When someone is driving that slowly it’s often because the person is drunk and is trying really hard not to do anything wrong.
But we’re in a shopping area with a lot of big box stores, not many bars, and it’s the middle of the day.
The other option may be an old person who is being extremely cautious. That’s much more likely in this area and given the price tag on a car like that.
We run the plates to see who the owner is: Jackson Drake, the novelist. He’s supposed to be a recluse who never leaves the house.
As we head toward the car Cody begins to sing Ticket to Ride by the Beatles, only he’s substituted Ticket to Write for Ticket to Ride.
Funny.
I’m not surprised to see it’s Ms. Malone driving.
“License, registration and proof of insurance,” I recite when she rolls down the window.
The poor young woman is shaking so badly she can barely remove her wallet from her purse. Taking the registration and insurance cards from the glovebox proves to be even more of a challenge.
“You’re the girl with the cat.” Cody points in her direction.
“Did you just call her a girl?” I glare at him. “Woman is preferred, or you could just refer to her as the person with the cat. Why even make reference to her gender at all?”
“Why do you have to be like that?” he fires back.
I cross my arms in front of me and stare into his eyes. “Be like what?”
“So politically correct all the time.”
“Politically correct? Try being a female in a male dominated profession. You wouldn’t last one day.”
He rolls his eyes at me. “Don’t be so melodramatic.”
“It’s not melodrama. It’s the truth.”
I’m not even sure why we’re bickering like an old married couple. It’s unprofessional and embarrassing.
When Ms. Malone clears her throat in an effort to gain our attention I’m even more humiliated.
“I am the person with the cat,” she states. “I work for Jackson Drake. I’m his personal assistant. This is his car. I was running an errand for him.” She lifts up a plastic bag from the office supply store as if she’s trying to prove her point.
“Do you know why we pulled you over?” I ask. It’s a routine question that we ask nearly everyone we pull over for a traffic violation.
She shrugs.
“You were driving too slowly,” I inform her.
Her eyes go wide. “I didn’t know that was a thing.”
“Hazardous driving,” I explain.
She gulps. “I’m sorry.”
“We can let you go with a warning this time,” I tell her. “Just make sure you keep up with the flow of traffic.”
“I will,” she promises. “Thank you.”
When Cody opens his mouth I point a finger at him. “Don’t say another word. We’re done here.”
“Fine,” he spits. He looks anything but. He’s shooting daggers at me.
As soon as Ms. Malone rolls up her window and pulls away Cody says, “Why do you have to do that?”
“Do what?”
“Put me down like that?”
It’s a good question. I have no idea why I’m doing it. I’m really confused and lashing out for no reason. “I’m sorry.”
When Cody closes the distance between us my entire body tenses. “Is all of this because you want me?”
I can feel his breath on my neck as he whispers in my ear.
My heart is thundering in my chest. I do want him, but I know I can’t have him. That really is the bottom line.
“We’d better get going,” I sputter.
His eyes don’t leave mine for several long moments and I get hot all over.
“Then let’s go, Sweet Cheeks,” he says before he turns and walks away.
***
I’m a little disappointed that Cody doesn’t say anything to me when we get back to the station.
I was hoping to ask him more about why he never finished his student teaching. Maybe it has something to do with why he had to get out of LA.
The more I get to know Cody the less I feel I know about him.
I was also hoping that maybe he’d ask me to out for a drink again, even though I probably would have said no.
Maybe it’s for the best. Instead of fanning the flames, maybe I need to close the book on our desires for each other once and for all.
When I get home I decide to take a hot bath and clear my head a little. Why am I so intrigued by Cody? I can’t stop thinking about him.
I try to imagine him as a music teacher. In some ways it seems a better fit than him as a police officer. Even though he has a tough exterior, deep down he seems to be a sensitive soul.
His eyes lit up when he talked to Mr. Duncan about helping out with the string quartet. It was the same look he had when he was playing guitar.
And the same look he had when he was inside of me.
It was a look of pure passion.
When I get out of the bathtub and get dressed I decide to do something I probably shouldn’t be doing.
I decide to go to Cody’s place to get some answers. I need to know what happened in LA and why he never finished his student teaching.
And to be honest I just want to be near him again. Not in the physical sense. Not jumping into bed with him. Just hanging out and having a conversation about something other than policing.
Pulling up to his apartment my stomach knots. What if he thinks I’m here for a booty call? I’ll have to make it clear that I’m just there to talk—as friends—nothing more.
It’s not a conflict of interest for us to have a conversation after hours, is it?
My heart begins to pound as I get closer to his front door. Maybe this whole idea is completely misguided.
Nice time to second guess myself.
It’s not too late. I can still hop back in my car and drive away. Pretend this didn’t happen.
Except that the front door cracks open before I even have a chance to knock.
“Who is it?” a voice behind the door says. It’s not Cody’s voice so I assume it’s his roommate, Russ.
I clear my throat. “It’s Maya Navarro. We met the other day.”
The door swings open revealing Russ wearing a rather tight swimsuit and nothing else. Does the guy have some kind of aversion to actual clothing?
“Cody’s not here.”
We stare at each other for a long moment.
“Do you expect him back soon?”
He shrugs. “I’m not his babysitter.”
I’m not sure what to do. Should I Stay or Should I Go? The Clash song starts to rattle around in my head.
Maybe Cody is rubbing off on me.
“Wanna come in?” Russ asks, solving my dilemma.
&nbs
p; When he steps aside I enter the apartment.
“Want a beer?” he asks.
“Sure. Unless you have wine.”
He laughs. “One beer coming up.”
I follow him into the kitchen. “So do you ever wear pants?”
“Rarely. I manage a surf shop.”
That explains a lot.
He grabs two beers from the fridge, removes the bottle caps and hands me one.
“So you’re a cop.”
I nod.
“You don’t look like a cop.”
“What do cops look like?”
He shrugs. “Not like you.”
The guy is an expert at circular conversation.
“Drink up,” he tells me.
I choke down a sip of the beer. It’s German. Expensive stuff. And very strong.
He guzzles down what seems like half the bottle.
“Can I ask you a question?”
He places his beer on the kitchen counter and looks into my eyes. “Fire away.”
“Why did Cody drop out of his student teaching?”
He shakes his head. Then he grabs his beer and takes another swig before responding.
“You’re going to have to ask him about that,” he says finally.
“He’s a little tightlipped about his personal life.”
He puts his beer down again and crosses his arms in front of him. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing to him?”
His question feels like a slap in the face. “What am I doing to him?”
“He wants to be with you. Desperately. I told you he’s a sensitive guy. He’s got it bad for you. I’ve never seen him like this before.”
My head is spinning. “That can’t be true.”
He rolls his eyes at me like a spoiled teenager. “Whatever you say, Officer.”
I down a swig of my beer. “My job is very important to me.”
“It’s not every day you find someone to fall in love with.”
“Cody and I barely know each other,” I counter.
“That’s the problem. If you knew the first thing about CJ you’d know he’s falling fast and hard for you.”
My chest tightens. Coming here was a really bad idea. I thought I’d be able to clear the air if I got some answers, but I’m just falling deeper into the rabbit hole.
“I think I’d better go.”
“Not till you finish your beer.”
Great. I still have more than half a bottle. I take a gulp, but it doesn’t seem to put that big of a dent in it.
“Do you like being a police officer?” Russ asks.
“I love it. Do you like managing a surf shop?”
“It pays the bills.”
There’s a moment of awkward silence. We both take sips of our beer.
“Cody told me that you played sports together in high school.”
He nods. “Baseball. CJ was really good. But he always liked band better. If he had a choice between practicing ball and practicing one of his instruments he always picked playing music.”
“Then he joined the Army right out of high school?”
Russ nods. “His dad was pissed that he didn’t get a baseball scholarship. He blamed him for not practicing enough. His father wanted him to play college ball. CJ definitely had the talent to make it professionally. He just didn’t have the drive. His dad told him he wouldn’t pay for college, so CJ went into the service. The GI Bill paid for college.”
Russ takes another swig of his beer. “CJ knew that he wouldn’t be able to study music if he was on a baseball scholarship. They both require a lot of practice time. It wouldn’t have worked out. He didn’t want to major in anything else.”
“If music was so important to him, why didn’t he finish his student teaching?”
He points a finger at me. “You’re still not getting it out of me. It’s not something we talk about. If you really want to know you need to ask CJ.”
“I’m afraid he won’t tell me.” I take another sip of my beer.
Russ shakes his head. “I thought police officers were supposed to be good communicators. You haven’t been listening. CJ is nuts about you. He would literally do anything for you. And I mean do anything. If you ask him to tell you he will.”
It takes a moment for Russ’s words to sink it. He’s crazy about me. No one has ever been crazy about me before.
“That gives you a lot of power,” Russ warns. “Don’t abuse it. You could break his heart.”
I drink the rest of my beer in a single gulp. I feel dizzy with emotion and alcohol. “I really need to go.”
I hand Russ the empty bottle. “All done.”
Before he has a chance to stop me I head towards the door. Just as I’m about to grab the handle the door flies open.
Cody’s eyes widen when he realizes I’m standing in front of him. “What are you doing here?”
Russ comes up behind me carrying his bottle. “Your girlfriend stopped by for a beer.”
“She’s not my girlfriend,” Cody snaps.
“I was just leaving,” I tell him.
“Why were you here?”
When our eyes meet the exchange of electricity between us is so overpowering my knees get weak.
“Are you okay?” Cody asks.
“Just a little dizzy. I think I drank that beer too fast. And I haven’t eaten anything since lunch.”
“You shouldn’t be driving,” he warns.
“I can walk home.”
“I’ll walk with you,” he offers.
I wave him off. “It’s not necessary.”
“I want to,” he insists.
The beer has hit me a lot harder than I expected. I’m a little unstable on my feet.
Cody puts his arm around me to steady me.
“You shouldn’t be doing that,” I tell him.
“I want to get you home in one piece. It’s a safety precaution.”
“Okay,” I agree. I have to admit that it feels nice to have him touch me again. I relax into his protective arms.
“Why were you so late?” I ask as we head down the street towards my apartment.
“String quartet. The band director hired me on the spot. The kids need a lot of work.”
I can hear the enthusiasm and joy in his voice.
“I need to ask you a question.”
“Anything.”
I gulp. For some reason I’m suddenly afraid to ask. Maybe I’m afraid of what I’ll hear. It’s got to be something pretty bad if Russ refused to talk about it.
“What is it?” he prods.
I take in a deep breath. “Why did you drop out of student teaching?”
He’s silent for several moments. Then he clears his throat. “I was engaged to my high school sweetheart. We were going to get married at the end of the school year, as soon as I finished my student teaching. She was an English teacher at the same school. We had just found out she was pregnant. We wanted to have kids right away so we were both thrilled. That afternoon we had both stayed late. I was giving a private lesson to one of our flute players, and she was helping the kids put together the school literary magazine. She was their advisor. We planned to meet in the parking lot at five thirty.
“As I was leaving the building I saw her in the distance. She was standing next to her car talking to three students. They were joking and laughing. Another car sped by as I hurried over to them. A guy leaned out the window and shot all of them. One minute I saw her laughing and a moment later she was dead. One of the students she was talking to was in a gang and someone wanted him dead. She and the other two students were collateral damage.
“I never went back. I just couldn’t make myself walk into the school again. As soon as I graduated college I left LA and went into the police academy. There’s not too much you can do with a music education degree when you’re not certified to teach. A few of the guys I served with in Iraq became police officers so that’s what I decided to do.”
“What was her name?”
&n
bsp; “Julia.” There’s so much sadness in his voice it makes my heart ache.
“I’m sorry you lost her,” I tell him.
“Can you believe I made it through two tours of duty and never saw anyone get shot. When I come back to California I witness my fiancée being gunned down right in front of me? How messed up is that?”
“Very.”
“I didn’t think I’d ever be happy again. I didn’t think I’d ever be able to love anyone the way I loved her.”
We’re both quiet the rest of the way back to my apartment.
Once we’re at my front door he removes his arm from my shoulder. “You’re back safe and sound.”
“Thank you.”
“I’d better get back…”
I place my lips on his before he has a chance to finish his sentence.
“What are you doing?” he whispers.
“Kissing you,” I whisper back.
“I thought…”
“Just kiss me before I change my mind.”
That’s exactly what he does.
My heart flutters with excitement as he reclaims my lips. Within moments he’s devouring me, his mouth hard and searching on mine.
“I’d better go,” he says breathlessly.
“Stay.” The word leaves my lips before I can stop it.
Or maybe I don’t want to.
“Are you sure?” I can see the confusion in his tortured eyes.
“No,” I admit.
He places his hand on my cheek. “I want you, Maya, a lot more than I should. But I don’t want to do anything that’s going to hurt you or jeopardize your career.”
My judgment is so clouded by desire that I can’t even think. I know he’s right. The best thing would be for him to walk away. But my body has other ideas.
And so does my heart.
“Stay with me tonight.”
He presses his lips together. He looks as torn as I feel.
I turn and unlock my door. Then I take his hand and pull him inside.
When I turn on the light I can see that his eyes are moist. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t ever talk about Julia,” he tells me.
Is that why I’m agreeing to be with him again? Because I want to lessen his pain? That’s definitely part of the reason, but it’s not all of the reason.
I think I’m falling for him just as quickly as he’s falling for me.
Rookie Mistake (California Dreamers Romantic Comedy Series Book 4) Page 7