by Lacey Black
At the end of the aisle, I turn the corner at the dairy products and grab a half-gallon of milk and some pepper jack cheese. For a small-town store, they have a pretty good selection to choose from. I’m getting ready to head down the condiment aisle when I hear my name.
“Officer Ramsey.”
Turning toward the voice, I find my captain in casual weekend attire. “Captain Jackson, good to see you,” I reply, offering my hand.
“This is my wife, Avery, and our two youngest, Dax and Ellie. Ave, meet Becker Ramsey, our newest officer on the force,” he says, waving to the two teenagers standing beside him. The resemblance in the boy is uncanny. Dark hair and dark eyes, while the girl features more of her mother’s lighter, softer qualities.
His wife reaches out her hand to shake. “It’s always nice to meet one of Maddox’s officers,” she says politely, her blue eyes shining brightly.
Something tingles at the back of my neck as I nod to his wife and kids.
The names…
They sound familiar.
Realization slams into me like a Mack truck as my partner rounds the corner, her eyes cast downward at what she has in her hand. “Beck, did you see they have those weird peppers you like on your pizza?”
I don’t even open my mouth. I glance to the woman standing beside my captain, the resemblance almost picture-perfect, from the nose to the hair color to the eyes. Even her smile is the same as her daughter’s. Her eyes light up with laughter as she looks my way, a knowing grin on her pretty face.
But it’s when my eyes land on my captain, I feel the full weight of his stare. They’re all-knowing and even a little accusatory. You know, the look a father gives the man wanting to bone his daughter?
Jackson. Clearly, I underestimated the family connection. I was thinking uncle, since she mentioned she had one on the force. But Dad? I didn’t see that one coming.
“Daddy. Hi.”
Chapter Five
Brooklyn
Well, shit.
“Brooklyn,” my dad says with a sigh. “Care to explain why you’re at the grocery store with your new partner and know how he takes his pizza?”
My siblings just stand there, smiling like I’ve been busted sneaking back in the house way past curfew. And Mom looks wildly intrigued at finding me at the grocery store with my new partner.
I can’t help it; I roll my eyes at his question. “Becker just moved in next door to me,” I reply in way of answer.
“And that makes you new best friends?” he asks, the vein at his temple sticking out just a smidge and pulsing. I’m just not sure if it’s from my blasé answer or at the fact that I’m friendly with Becker.
“Well, not best friends, but we’re friendly. We were both headed to the same place so we rode together.”
Again, the vein pulsates. “Hmm.” His reply is short and sweet. I can already tell the Great Inquisition of the Year is about to commence. Surprisingly, he doesn’t say anything else, which might have me just as concerned as if he started drilling me for answers.
Answers that even I don’t have.
Are we friends? Sure. We’re partners and partners look out for each other, on and off the job.
Are we more? No. Not really. Do I fantasize about getting him naked and determining if he has any tattoos? Discovering if he’s a briefs or boxers guy? Is his ass as firm as it looks when he bends over in his uniform? Does that beard feel as soft as I imagined it would? Yes to all of those questions, but that doesn’t mean I’m actually going to find out.
Not in this lifetime.
“Well, it was great running into you,” I deflect, grabbing my cart and walking around my family.
“Brooklyn.” My dad’s voice rings loudly through the store.
Stopping, I slowly turn back around to face him. “Yes?”
“Dinner will be served at five tomorrow.” He leaves no room for question.
“But, I have to work,” I start, knowing that I have to get a decent nap in before starting at six.
“You’ll be there on time,” Dad says, his brown eyes intently watching me.
Swallowing hard, I nod. “See you then.” I grab my cart and continue down the aisle. I can hear them speaking behind me, but I choose to ignore them all. I know exactly what’s about to happen at five o’clock tomorrow, and I just pray Dad doesn’t invite my uncles over to join us for dinner.
I keep going, shoving food into my cart that I probably don’t need, my armpits starting to get a little sweaty. I’m not afraid of my dad, not in the least. He would never harm a hair on my head. The problem is actually quite the opposite. From the first time a boy picked me up for prom to the few boyfriends I’ve had since, none of them are ever good enough for me, in my dad’s eyes. He’s overprotective to a fault and has been my entire life. Tomorrow night’s dinner won’t be a fun, enjoyable meal. No, it’ll be full of questions.
So many questions.
“So… Jackson. You mentioned family on the force,” Becker says, leaving the end of his question hanging wide open.
“Yeah, so Captain Jackson? He’s my dad.” I throw two jars of pickles into my cart just to give my hands something to do.
“I kinda gathered that. And I’m assuming that as one of the only females on the force, as well as the captain’s daughter, that’s why you don’t offer up that information to just anyone,” he says, his cart stopping beside me. I can feel his eyes watching.
I finally glance his way. “Yeah. Everyone at the station knows I’m his daughter, but I don’t advertise it. I want to be known as a good officer who understands her job and does it well, not because she’s the boss’s daughter.”
“I would never think that,” he defends quickly. “In fact, I think you’re a great officer, and the fact that your dad is our captain has no merit on my opinion. You obviously studied hard and worked even harder through the academy. You’re here because you can do the job, not because he got you in.”
My gaze is locked on his. That weird connection is back, the weight I carry on my shoulders slowly lifting. It’s comfortable to talk to him, even in the middle of the supermarket, and that’s the scariest of all because the only people I feel like that with are my roommate, and my parents. “I’m terrified they think he got me the job.” My confession hurts, yet is freeing at the same time.
Becker shakes his head. “If they think that, it’s because they don’t know you. They don’t see your dedication, night after night, or the fact you give one hundred and fifty percent in all that you do. It’s in your blood, Brooklyn, and that can’t be bought by a relative or by a name. That’s on you because it’s in you.”
My eyes burn with tears, but I blink them away. Unable to speak through my Sahara-dry throat, I simply nod my head.
“I worked with a man who didn’t have a quarter of the dedication to his job and those he serves as you. One of these days, I’ll tell you about it. What I’m saying is that age doesn’t mean anything. You’re better than most guys I’ve worked with twice your age. Let’s wrap up this shopping trip, shall we?” he says, slowly continuing to casually walk down the aisle, his well-worn jeans molding perfectly to his ass.
We finish quickly, only running into my family once more in the meat aisle. My dad watches us closely, dissecting our every move. We keep it friendly, of course, but make sure to also keep a little more distance, considering we have an audience. Plus, there’s the fact that there’s no reason to be that close.
As we’re unloading the carts into Becker’s car, my dad comes up to me and wraps his arms around my waist. “Love you, Bean,” he whispers, kissing me on the forehead before walking away. My dad has always been affectionate, especially when I was younger. Working together, I’ve strived to make our relationship strictly professional at the station, so these little father/daughter moments are few and far between anymore.
“Love you, Daddy,” I tell him, evoking a smile from his lips. Mom waves and blows me a kiss, while Dax and Ellie barely pull their noses o
ut of their phones long enough to wave goodbye.
“See you tomorrow, sweetheart,” he says firmly, throwing a small wave to both me and to Becker before heading back to where he parked Mom’s SUV.
When my groceries are piled in the trunk, I jump in the passenger seat and warm my fingers by the heater. Becker hops in the seat beside me, his woodsy, masculine scent tickling my nose and rendering my panties useless. The air is still pumping fairly cool, but it gives me something to do, which I’m grateful for. Otherwise, I’m liable to throw my leg over the console and engage in inappropriate, dirty things to the one man I shouldn’t want, yet still do.
The trip back to our building is quick, considering all the extra pre-Christmas traffic. It’s the last weekend before the big holiday, so the streets of Rivers Edge seem to be a little busier than usual.
As Becker pulls into the complex, he stops in front of my condo. “Thanks for shopping with me today,” he says, throwing the shifter into park.
“Sorry you had to deal with my family,” I reply, unbuckling my seat belt and grabbing my purse.
“Your family doesn’t bother me. In fact, it’s a nice little glimpse inside your personal life.”
The front door opens and Elaina pops her head out. “That’s my roommate, Elaina.”
Becker nods. “Well, come on. I’ll help you get your stuff inside.”
“It’s not much. I can get it,” I argue, stepping out into the late afternoon chill.
The trunk is popped and I start retrieving my bags before Becker even has a chance to come back and help. By the time he’s there, I have most of my things in my hands. He insists on taking the last two bags, basically ensuring he’s coming inside with me. I try not to mentally freak out that my sexy new partner will soon be inside my condo, but it still happens. Especially as he steps up on the front step and motions for me to enter first. I can’t help but wonder if Elaina picked up her mess from the living room.
“You must be the new neighbor I’ve heard about,” Elaina says, a coy little smile on her face.
“That’d be me,” Becker says, setting the bags down on the table next to mine. “And you must be Elaina.” He reaches out his hand, and I swear Elaina visibly swoons a little in his direction.
“Nice to meet you.” She giggles (actually, giggles), her cheeks turning a lovely shade of light pink.
“Well, thanks for helping me carry these inside. I’m sure you’ll want to get yours inside,” I interrupt my roommate’s fangirling, placing my hands on Becker’s upper arms to gently give him a little nudge toward the front door. In doing so, I wrap my arms around hard, muscular biceps that flex beneath my touch.
My wide eyes move to his hazel ones. The rich gold color a more vivid shade of green now. They’re dilated, even under the dim fluorescent lighting, I can see something brewing in them that leaves me both breathless and excited. They’re full of yearning, or at least, that’s my interpretation.
“Well, I better get my stuff in the freezer,” he says, not taking his eyes off me for one second.
Something deep inside my brain tells me to throw my arms around him and kiss those full, slightly chapped lips, but I don’t. I hold my position and merely nod in agreement. “Thanks again,” I add, my voice a little pitchy and breathy.
He moves a step closer, his scent wrapping around me like a warm, familiar blanket. He holds my gaze, his lips slightly open and so close. It would only require one of us taking another small step forward and we’d be touching. “It was my pleasure, Brooklyn. Thanks for spending the day with me.” He throws a wave at my roommate, who’s standing there, staring with her mouth gaped open, as he turns and heads toward the front door.
“Bye,” I whisper, trying to keep my eyes from falling down to where his jeans mold to his ass, but failing.
When his ass stops moving, I glance up, only to find those same hazel eyes laced with humor, his eyebrows arched in question. A slow smile spreading across his lips as he replies, “Bye, Brooklyn.” He throws me a wink, you know, just to let me know that he totally busted me ogling his rear, and heads out the door.
My heart is pounding in my chest as the front door closes. I’ve never wanted someone to kiss me more than I wanted Becker to right then. Probably a good thing he didn’t, though. Partner, remember? Talk about gray and blurred lines. Kissing him would essentially be like jumping so far over the line that I can’t even see it anymore.
Sighing, I turn my attention back to my groceries. Before I even have the bread pulled from the bag, I feel the weight of Elaina’s stare. When I glance up, her jaw is hinged open and she’s fanning her face. I can tell exactly what’s about to happen.
“Holy shit, girl. You need to spill everything. Now.”
Chapter Six
Becker
I’ve never wanted to kiss a woman more than I wanted to kiss her.
As I toss my food onto my counter, I chastise myself. There’s the fact that I really, really wanted to kiss her, but knew that I shouldn’t. The problem is the wanting outweighs the shouldn’t. The contentment and elation I feel when she’s around is a welcomed change from the remorse and uncertainty from before.
Before in Durant.
Finding out my captain is her father was a shocking revelation. I wasn’t kidding when I said I thought he was family, but father wasn’t what I was expecting. They look nothing alike, but the love and adoration in his eyes when he said goodbye was all I needed to see to know that man is definitely her dad, resemblance be damned.
I have to admit, meeting her family in the supermarket wasn’t what I had planned for my afternoon. Her siblings seemed like your typical teenagers with their faces stuck in their electronics, and her mother, well, her mom could probably be easily confused for her sister. The resemblance was definitely there, but so were a few other things. Her mannerisms, her smile.
As I unload the bag of potatoes and carrots in the fridge, I find a small bag of kiwi fruit. There’s also a few bananas and peaches, things I didn’t buy. That can only mean one thing. I have one of Brooklyn’s bags. Tossing the rest of the food haphazardly in the fridge and freezer, I grab the extra bag and my keys and head next door.
The air slaps me upside the face, something I’m just not sure I’ll get use to. Midwest winters can kiss my ass. I walk next door and knock. It only takes a few seconds before Brooklyn appears. She seems shocked to find me on her doorstep, but more than that, her eyes sparkle with desire. It’s evident in the way her breathing hitches and she licks her lips. Suddenly, all I want to do is kiss those delicious lips.
“Is everything okay?” she asks, not moving back to let me in.
“Fine, yeah. I found one of your bags,” I reply, holding up the fruit.
The door falls open a little more as she grabs the bag, her hand brushing against mine. Without warning, I reach for the strand of blonde hair that has fallen to cover part of her face. It’s smooth and silky between my fingers and makes my hand tingle for more.
My eyes fall to hers as my hand gently slides to the nape of her neck. We both move at the same time, each stepping into the other’s personal space. That sweet scent of her lotion engulfs me, all blood flowing directly to my dick. Fingers entwined in her long locks, her fingers come up to rest on my chest. I feel the burn as they dance slowly upward and snake around my neck, bringing her body flush against mine.
Our eyes are locked as I slowly lower my head. There’s no hesitation, no question. Only desire. Only need. Only resolve that I want this kiss as much as my next breath. She’s not my partner, not my boss’s daughter. She’s the woman I want – have wanted since the moment I first laid eyes on her.
Her breath hitches moments before my lips touch hers. They’re warm and soft, just as I’ve imagined them for the last week and a half. My lips coax hers open, her tongue meeting mine in a slow but steady dance. I feel her hands grip my neck and slide into my hair, her nails biting into my scalp. All I can fucking think about is those damn nails, digging into my
flesh. It drives me absolutely crazy.
My own hand grips her hair gently, yet with just the right amount of pull. My other hand moves to her back, pressing her body into my own. She aligns beautifully against me, as if her body was made for mine.
“Brooklyn, who’s there?” I hear just over her shoulder.
I release her lips and my hold on her and allow her to step away. Instantly, I miss the feel of her pressed against me, and almost reach for her. “It’s Becker,” she replies, her words a pant and maybe a little pitchy.
“Ohhh, Becker,” Elaina singsongs, making Brooklyn roll her blue eyes.
Smiling down at her, I brush that same strand of hair that started this whole front door kiss. “Don’t forget to put your fruit in the fridge.”
Her eyes dart down, the bag of fruit discarded on the floor. They’re probably bruised and battered at this point. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” I reply, and because I can’t stop myself, I lean forward, inhaling the subtle scent of jasmine and vanilla. I place my lips on her cheek, letting them linger a beat longer than I probably should, but I don’t care. I’m committing the feel of her skin against my lips to memory. “Goodbye, Brooklyn,” I whisper as I slowly pull away.
“Bye.” Her eyes are wide as she watches me turn and walk away. It’s the last thing I want to do, but I don’t suppose throwing her over my shoulder and finding the nearest bed is appropriate either.
At least not yet.
I can feel her eyes on me as I head back to my side of the condo, a little extra pep in my step. I don’t turn around as I slip inside, the taste of her skin still seared on my lips. I can’t help but smile as I close and lock my front door with memories of our kiss still playing on repeat in my mind.
Yes, it was one kiss, but I can already tell you one kiss won’t be enough.
It may never be enough.