by Peyton Banks
“It isn’t my fault I have yet to find someone I can trust to be in control,” I said playfully. His green eyes flashed brighter with something I couldn’t identify.
One eyebrow quirked as he surveyed me with a tilt of his chiseled jaw. “Don’t you trust me?”
My sex clenched just imagining all the sweaty wicked things he was probably very good at in the bed. Shit. Am I thinking about fucking Lukas?
“Lukas…I…”
Lucia stopped by the table. “We’ve got the Baptist Bible Study group coming in,” she said, sounding apologetic. “I don’t want to boot you but we could really use the table.”
I looked at Lukas. Technically, we’d only agreed to coffee together and that was over with. The coffee date could end we could go back to whatever we’d been doing before we left to meet up at Virgil’s. But I didn’t want to just go back to Grandma’s place and start rehab exercises or help her clean things around the house. I wanted more time with Lukas.
“We can go,” Lukas said. “Let me pay and we’ll free up the table for you.” He got up, keeping me from even making an offer to pay.
I sat at the table, waiting for him and trying to decide what to do next. I felt tingly all over—the first time I’d felt that way in years—and tense, but not the tension I got at work, it was the kind I got on a first date. It was crazy, I’d known Lukas for years, but it was like I was seeing him for the first time all over again. I watched Lukas pay for our orders and then turn around to come back.
When we’d been in high school together, he’d been this tall, pale, gangly, awkward kid with green eyes, and he’d kept his black hair long as a protest against his father. But the military had toned him up and I couldn’t help wondering what his broad shoulders and slim waist looked like under his t-shirt and jeans. I’d seen him naked before—but that had been on a skinny-dipping adventure when we were sophomores.
“Let’s go for a walk,” I suggested, when Lukas came back to the table and gathered up his jacket. “It’s nice out.”
“And you don’t want to go home just yet?” Lukas asked with a grin. “You can admit it.”
I stood carefully, making sure I didn’t put too much weight on my bad leg. “I just don’t want to clean Grandma’s silverware,” I told him. Lukas snickered.
“You up for a walk?” he asked quietly.
I nodded. “Marchman Park isn’t far from here,” I pointed out. “We can head that way, maybe claim one bench if my leg gets tired.”
Lukas put his hand on the small of my back and I felt that tingle again, that little burst of sexual spark. What is wrong with me? Lukas is just a friend. Yeah, but you haven’t seen him in years and he isn’t the beanpole he used to be. He’s hot. I’d known that at least in theory back when we’d been friends, but it just hadn’t connected for me, despite how many girls wanted to get with him. It had connected over coffee when his green eyes collided with mine, and a welcomed bolt of heat slammed into me in pure female appreciation. He had a little scar on his cheek from what he’d called ‘an incident’ in Iraq and it made him look manlier somehow.
He steered me through the crowded cafe, out onto the street. We were maybe three blocks away from the park and it was still nice outside. Lukas grabbed my hand and as soon as the ridges of his calluses slid across my skin, and his fingers tightened on mine, a shiver of awareness shot through me.
We made our way up the street towards the park, maybe a foot of space between us and I realized that Lukas was keeping pace with me—slowing down to make sure I wouldn’t have to limp to keep up.
“You know, I haven’t seen Marchman Park since I’ve been back—not since the week I left,” I said.
“We planted a bunch of new trees there, this past spring,” Lukas told me. “I think they’ve got plans to build a new playground at the other end—where the old one used to be.”
“About time,” I said, thinking about the old playground. “The old one can’t be safe.”
“They’ve cordoned it off until they finish the new one,” Lukas said.
We kept walking, talking about town gossip and after about two blocks, my leg spasmed. I cringed and Lukas stopped, looking at me with worried eyes.
“It’s okay,” I said. “I can manage a short walk. I used to run a damn mile in eight minutes.” “You got shot,” Lukas said. “Come on, grab onto my arm.”
“Someone will see us,” I pointed out. “Everyone will talk about it.”
Lukas shrugged. “So?” he said. “Take my damn arm unless you’d rather they talk about me picking you up and carrying you around town.”
I looked at him for a second and knew from the stubborn gleam in his eyes he wasn’t joking. I took the arm he offered.
We walked the rest of the way to the park and Lukas pointed out the trees they’d planted, finally setting in and getting themselves established.
“Hopefully there’s enough time for them to flourish,” I mused, reaching out to touch the new growth on one sapling. “In this part of the country, storms get intense by winter.”
“The tree people said they’d be fine,” Lukas said. We followed along the trail that looped around the park. “Hey, there’s a bench,” Lukas told me, pointing it out. “Let’s sit down for a second.”
“You covering for me or getting tired yourself?” I asked him playfully.
“It’s such a nice day, I figured sitting in the park would be nice,” Lukas said. “Besides, if you were hurting a block and a half ago, your leg can’t be fine now.”
I wanted to argue, but there was something in the way Lukas spoke that made me give in—willingly. I sat down and Lukas sat down next to me, reaching out for my hand.
“You must really want the towns’ rumor mill to go crazy,” I said, but I didn’t take my hand back.
Lukas chuckled. “I don’t mind if it does. They’re already talking anyway, after we danced at the party.” Lukas reached out and tweaked one of my curls.
“Are you flirting with me, Lukas Koch?” I asked him before giving him a wide grin.
“Well, Detective Powell,” Lukas said, “what are you going to do about it if I am?”
I could feel my heart beating faster. “Let you have your wicked way with me…” I answered huskily.
“Right answer,” he replied. “Tell me more about the NYPD.” He didn’t take my hand out of his, but he stopped playing with my hair and I was almost disappointed. “I’m curious about that life. I almost went to the police academy after I got out.”
“I’d been hoping to make my way up the ranks, eventually transfer to the FBI,” I said. “Since I had a dual degree in psych and criminology, I figured it was a good career path.”
“You figured? Plans have changed?” Lukas asked.
I shrugged. “I’m sort of re-thinking my options now,” I said. “I mean, it’s not like the first time they have shot me, but mostly it’s been a graze, or the vest caught it—things like that.”
“It must have been a serious injury,” Lukas said.
I looked down at my lap. There were only a handful of people who knew how serious it had been—even Grandma hadn’t gotten the full story out of me. She just knew I was in for a slow recovery.
“Can we not talk about that?” I asked.
Lukas nodded. “Tell me about your funniest bag,” he said.
I thought about it for a few moments—there are lots of stories, anyone on the force in a city like New York has dozens. “An eighty-year-old drug dealer,” I said. “Well, a drug dealer and nudist. We caught him in his meth lab, in an abandoned building, and he was cooking naked.”
Lukas snorted. “Oh god and that didn’t traumatize you?”
I shook my head, laughing a little. “It was close,” I said. “I’ll never be able to look at Sudafed the same way again.”
“Did you lock him up still naked?”
I shook my head. “No—thank god, we got him into a jumpsuit.”
“How did you get him taken down?” Lukas wanted to know.
I explained the whole situation which reminded me of another case and we kept talking about the oddest cases I’d handled, laughing over the details together. I noticed that Lukas was moving closer and closer to me, leaning in and I didn’t stop him—I didn’t want to.
“Lukas!” a man yelled. “Chief said you were at Virgil’s.” I didn’t recognize the man walking up to us. Lukas sat back, pulling slightly away from me but not releasing my hand.
“Sheriff Baker,” Lukas said, nodding. “What can I do for you?”
Baker hadn’t been a Sheriff when I’d been in town last. He looked to be about sixty, graying, with the start of a beer gut, but otherwise in shape.
“I hate to interrupt your date,” the Sheriff said, glancing at me then back at Lukas. “But I was hoping to have time to talk to you about the youth intervention program—Chief said you’d be interested in helping.”
“Definitely,” Lukas said. “You guys have been doing good work.”
“I also wanted to introduce myself,” the Sheriff said, turning to me. “You must be Kendra Powell—I was just starting here when you moved out of town.”
I released Lukas’s hand, extending it to Baker. “Nice to meet you.” The Sheriff shook my hand.
“Your grandmother has been talking you up a lot,” Sheriff Baker said. “She mentioned you might be looking for an alternative to your job at the NYPD—and I got to say, if you’re looking for something a bit lower-intensity, I’ve got a deputy retiring soon and we’d love to have you.”
I smiled, but made a mental note to tell grandma to butt out of my career. “I haven’t made any long-term decisions yet,” I said, taking my hand back once it was polite to do so. “I’m still up for evaluations and all of that.”
The Sheriff said, “But if you’re interested, just know that we could use someone with your kind of experience and talent.”
“Thank you, Sheriff,” I said. “I’ll keep it under advisement, for sure.”
“We’ve got a case right now I could use your eyes on,” the Sheriff said. “Normally we’d get outside law enforcement in…”
“That serious?” I asked. Despite myself, I couldn’t help but be curious.
“String of B and Es,” Sheriff Baker replied. “Not a lot to go on—usually in a small town like this it’s obvious who the suspects are, but here…”
“I might drop by and look at the evidence you’ve gathered so far, offer some insights,” I said politely.
“I’d appreciate it,” Sheriff Baker told me. “Anytime you’re free—just as an outside opinion.”
“Well,” Lukas interjected, “If you can email me the stuff about the Youth Intervention program, I’d love to see it. I must figure out how we can best offer support, what the scheduling will be like—all that.”
“Right,” Sheriff Baker said, nodding. “Like I said—I hate to interrupt your date, but I didn’t know when I’d get a chance like this again. Enjoy this fine weather we’re having.” He shook my hand again and left, heading towards the other end of the park and the exits.
I looked at Lukas and laughed. “Date?”
“Yep. Date.” He grinned.
“I forget just how subtle people are in this town,” I said.
Lukas chuckled. “Well, you’ve got an alternative to your exciting NYPD career, if you want it,” he pointed out.
“I do,” I said, rolling my eyes slightly. “I mean, I guess it might not be the worst idea. Probably fewer shootouts here.”
“You keep hedging on if you’re going back,” Lukas observed. “I take it the ‘officer-involved shooting incident’ was a little more intense than you’re saying? Maybe you’re not sure whether you want to go back to the job at all, even here?”
I thought about it for a second and then nodded. “I have some issues,” I admitted. “I’m working through them. I don’t really enjoy talking about it beyond that...but you know.”
“Yeah, I get it,” Lukas said. “I’ve got guys from back in the service—people I know—with issues. It takes time. No need to rush it.”
“Do you want me to tell you about it?” I asked.
Lukas looked at me for a long few seconds. “You can tell me when you get ready.” He leaned forward and pressed his forehead to mine. “Until then, it’ll only make things awkward, right?”
I swallowed. His compassionate words I hadn’t expected to hear. “Right.” My voice was barely a whisper.
He reached up, cupped my face with his hands, and pressed his lips to mine. We stayed like that for a while before he finally pulled away but kept his hands on my cheeks. “I want you Kendra. But I won’t push if this is not what you want.” He stroked my cheeks with his thumbs.
His words unlocked my last resolve. I kissed him. Sliding my hands around his waist, his hands slid around my neck, tangled his fingers in my curly hair, and tugged me closer. Lukas kissed me hungrily, greedily.
My body flooded with fire as I kissed him back, nipping his lips, tangling my tongue with his before finally pulling back even though I didn’t want to.
“That was something,” I said, catching my breath.
Lukas licked his lips as if savoring my taste on his skin. “Damn, I’ve wanted to do that from the moment I saw you at the party,” he said. “And you’re a way better kisser than you were in the ninth grade.”
“Oh, shut up,” I said, smacking him on the shoulder. “That wasn’t even the same thing at all. You just wanted to kiss a girl—any girl—to see what it was like.”
“I’ve gotten practice since then,” Lukas said. “I’d love to show you some tricks I’ve learned.” He smiled secretively.
“I’m sure you would. But I think we’ve given the town enough to talk about.”
“Well, how about you at my house, tomorrow night?” He took my hand, then joined our fingers together. “I’ll cook us dinner. I’m a good cook you know—comes from so much time dealing with fire.”
A corner of my lip lifted. “Every firefighter I’ve ever met is a good cook. FDNY guys feed us sometimes.”
“I’m better than FDNY,” Lukas said. “And it’ll give us some privacy.”
My spine tingled, not just with arousal but with something baser, an appreciation for this flirty game we were playing. “I’d love to have dinner at your place tomorrow night,” I looked him in the eyes. I knew what a date at his house meant and it wasn’t just going to be dinner and kissing. “Now, we should get leave before someone else from town interrupts us with urgent news or a request.”
Lukas chuckled giving my hand a playful little squeeze. “You just don’t want to risk me getting you hot and bothered in public.”
“I have some self-control,” I huffed mockingly. “And I have my dignity.”
“We’ll see how dignified you are tomorrow night,” Lukas said, letting his voice lower a bit. “After you’ve tried my food.”
“Are you that good?” I asked huskily.
“I’ll let you decide for yourself Detective Powell.” He pulled me to my feet, before we walked out of the park together holding hands.
7
Lukas
I took a step back from the stove, looking at everything I had going on. I’d gotten started on dinner as soon as I got home and cleaned up—the department had been doing a controlled burn to prevent some fires later on in the season when it would get scorching hot and I’d come home covered in smoke, soot, and dirt. Not the look I wanted for my date with Kendra.
Tonight, I’d went simple, with the rigatoni and a ‘Sunday sauce’ recipe I’d gotten off of a friend in my unit back in the Philippines. I’d gone out to the store the night before, after Kendra had gone home, and picked up grass-fed beef shank and Italian sausage, along with ground beef and veal for the meatballs. I had about half of what I needed in the pantry—pasta and canned organic tomatoes—but I picked up some wine and the fresh vegetables I’d need. I’d even stopped by the Harlequin Bakery to get a fresh baguette to make garlic bread with.
&n
bsp; The sauce was simmering away, with the meatballs ready to go in and the bread was in a warm oven, getting hot and buttery, and stuffed with so much garlic that a vampire would stay away from both of us for weeks. The pasta would go on at the last minute and I had nothing to do but let things stay in a holding pattern once I put the meatballs in.
I heard a knock at the door just after I got the meatballs in and I hurried to get it. It could only be Kendra—there was no one else who might come over tonight—but I wanted to get it quickly. The kiss the day before had left me tense, waiting for what would come next. I was in such a hurry I didn’t even take off the apron one guy at the firehouse had gotten me as a half-joking Secret Santa gift the year before and when I opened the door and Kendra saw me; she busted out laughing.
“What?” I asked, looking down. The apron was useful, but I couldn’t deny it looked ridiculous. On the front it had the figure of a busty maid, with her tits and ass barely covered. “Hey, it’s useful,” I said, taking it off quickly.
“I believe you,” Kendra said teasingly.
I let her into the house and just as I closed the door; I grabbed her by the hand and pulled her close, kissing her on the lips. Just a quick kiss—I still had dinner to cook—but the feeling of her body pressed to mine, the taste of her lips, was enough to make me wish I didn’t have to worry about anything else. I made myself pull back and guided Kendra into the kitchen where dinner was in progress.
“Have a seat detective. I’ll pour you a glass of wine.” I paused. “I got us a Lambrusco and a heavier red to go with the meat.”
“You really went all out on this,” Kendra said, breathing deeply. She was in a button-down shirt and a pair of tight jeans that showed off how great her ass was.
“Just something simple,” I remarked, pulling the foil off of the top of the bottle. “A friend in my unit taught me the sauce—supposedly his grandma’s recipe, but I suspect he held out on some secrets. Or maybe she did.” Kendra chuckled, and I gave the sauce a quick stir before pouring the wine.
“If she’s a real Italian grandma, she probably held it back,” Kendra said.