by Lacey Black
Dad nods before turning and getting into the squad car. Uncle Jake looks at him like he lost his mind, but I can’t help but smile. My dad extended a huge olive branch today in the form of a casual invitation, and that thought makes me the happiest girl in the world.
Inside, I help Becker walk to his bedroom, which is the mirror image of my own. Exhaustion is settling in as he drops onto the mattress and groans in pain from the movements. “Shit, that hurts,” he mumbles, toeing off his black shoes and leaving them laying on the floor.
“Let me help,” I tell him, crouching down in front of him and pulling off his black socks. When his feet are bare, I stand up, motioning with my hand for him to do the same. He does silently, though I can tell by the look on his face that it bothers him.
After he stands, I unbutton his shirt, my eyes locked on his the entire time. When the shirt is open, I gently push it off his shoulders, carefully running my hands up his shoulders and down his arms. Leaning forward, I place my lips over the angry purple welt where the bullet hit his vest. I can hear his gasp, but feel him instantly relax against my tender touch.
My hands then move to his belt. He doesn’t say a word as I remove the leather and unbutton and unzip his pants. As I start to push them over his hips, I can already tell he’s hard. My eyes meet his and a smirk transforms his handsome face to one of pure mischief, and maybe a little desire.
When he’s standing in nothing but dark blue boxer briefs, I point to the bed. “Get in.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he replies in a sleepy southern drawl that does dirty things to my lady parts.
“I’m going to get you some Tylenol,” I tell him as I slip out of his room and head to the kitchen. I find the bottle of pain reliever on the windowsill and a clean glass in the cabinet.
Once I have both, I head back to his bedroom, finding the curtains already drawn tight and the room somewhat darkened, considering it’s early morning. Becker’s lying on his back, one arm thrown over his eyes and the other held protectively against his side.
Setting the glass on the nightstand, I touch his good shoulder, careful not to startle him. “I have your pain meds.”
He shifts his arm until his hazel eyes are exposed and focused solely on me. My heart gallops in my chest as all these crazy feelings swirl around like a tornado. I like him. I mean I really, really like him, and I’m not one hundred percent sure, but I think he feels the same way.
Becker sits up and takes both Tylenol at once, gulping down half the glass in the process. He sets it back on the nightstand and lies back down on the pillow, his eyes never wavering from me. “Bee?” he whispers, his voice low and gravelly.
“Yeah?”
His eyes hold just a hint of vulnerability as he asks, “Will you stay?”
My throat is tight, preventing words from exiting, so I nod in agreement. I slip off my belt, setting it on the ground beside him. He points to the small safe in the closet and recites the three numbers I need to unlock it. There, I place both his and my service pistols inside, securing them for the day.
With that task complete, I strip down to my white cami and panties. I always wear a cami between my bra and my vest to keep it from chafing my skin. I reach between my breasts and unhook the front clasp on my bra, pulling it from the tank and dropping it on the floor. Becker’s eyes are dilated as he watches me undress, clearly enjoying the view from where he lies.
Very carefully, I slip beneath the comforter on the opposite side of the bed, but Becker has other ideas. He adjusts me so that I face away from him and pulls me back against his chest. He grunts a bit when our bodies touch, but then starts to relax, throwing his arm over my waist.
“Thank you,” he whispers, his warm breath tickling my ear.
“For what?” I ask, glancing over my shoulder.
“For staying.”
I turn just a bit more so that I can see his eyes as I say, “No place I’d rather be.”
His delectable lips turn upward as he pulls me back tighter. “Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas, Becker,” I reply softly, my fingers entwining with his.
He’s out just a few minutes later, his breathing pattern steady and deep. My own exhaustion starts to pull me under, and the last thing I recall before sleep takes hold is the sound of his whispered words, “My Bee.”
Chapter Ten
Becker
I’m nervous as hell as I carefully climb out of the passenger seat of my car.
Sometime in the early morning, both my car and Brooklyn’s truck showed up in our driveways. I don’t even want to think about how her dad and uncle pulled that off, considering we both had our keys at my place. Or the fact that when they delivered the vehicles, Brooklyn wasn’t at her place, as insinuated when they left.
But waking up with her in my arms (or arm, considering the other one causes a little discomfort when I move it)?
Fucking heaven.
Totally worth the shit I’m probably about to get from her family.
I’m just praying they’re all in the Christmas spirit today and don’t lay it on too thick, ya know?
Not that I can’t handle it.
I’d do just about anything for the woman who looks badass as hell driving my car. If the sight of her in that big Chevy truck did a number on me and my libido, the view of her behind the wheel of my baby pretty much ensured hard-ons for the rest of my life.
“Ready?” she asks, pulling the keys from the ignition and looking over with those big blue eyes.
I’m moving, leaning over and taking the back of her head in my right hand. My lips brushing lightly against hers, the touch both calming and arousing. When I’m certain her lip gloss is smeared all over my mouth, I pull away with a smile. “Ready.”
She’s grinning as she climbs out of the driver’s seat. There are gifts in the trunk for her grandparents. The pile for her parents and siblings still at home for their Sunday gathering. With Brooklyn and Captain Jackson both working shifts last night, the Jackson family decided to celebrate together in two days, after the craziness of the holiday settles down.
“You gonna wipe that off?” she asks, her arms laden with gift bags and a couple of wrapped gifts.
“What?” I ask, even though I know exactly what she’s talking about it. I can taste the fruitiness of whatever is on my face, and it reminds me of her. Frankly, I don’t want to wipe it off.
“That,” she says, nodding to my head. “I didn’t know Passionfruit Paradise was your color.”
“You’re my color,” I tell her, a wide grin on my face.
“I’d suggest wiping it off,” a deep, ominous voice carries over my shoulder.
I turn around and find a tall man, one I haven’t met before. He’s glaring daggers at me, and I’m pretty sure if they were real, I’d be dead already. He looks like the type of guy who could probably bury a body or two as well, and they’d never find it.
“Uncle Nate,” Brooklyn says, the smile in her voice evident as she runs up the stairs and throws her arms carefully around one of her uncles while juggling the packages.
The man continues to stare at me, and I suddenly find myself wiping her lip gloss off my mouth as fast as I can without seeming intimidated.
“Knock it off and be nice. I want you to meet someone,” she says, turning my way as her uncle takes the bags from her hands.
“I’m always nice,” he replies, giving her a sweet smile mixed with something else that lets me know this man has a mischievous side.
Brooklyn rolls her eyes but turns back to me. “Uncle Nate, this is Becker Ramsey, my partner. Becker, meet Nate,” she says, warmth evident in her voice.
I stick out my hand and wait. The man’s arm doesn’t move very quickly, but his eyes sure do. He seems to assess me in a matter of a few seconds before sticking his hand out and placing it in my own. His shake is firm, but not in an intimidating way, which I’m thankful for. “Her favorite uncle,” he finally says, flashing his niece a smile.
&
nbsp; She giggles before the door opens behind them. “I thought that was you.” The woman turns to the man and gives him a look. “Let them come inside out of the cold before you start your mean uncle gag,” she says, patting him on the chest and turning and walking away.
“It’s not a gag, woman!” he hollers after her with a laugh.
“That was my Aunt Lia. You’ll meet her in a second,” Brooklyn says, coming over to where I stand. “Ready?”
There’s something very soothing about her smile and her eyes. It settles the nervousness I’m trying to pretend I don’t feel and calms the rapid beat of my heart. I feel I can do anything as long as she’s by my side. That’s why it’s an easy response to reply, “Let’s do this.”
Inside, I’m hit with the warmth of laughter and the scents of homemade baked goods. My stomach rumbles in anticipation of all the food Brooklyn has assured me her grandmother has made. Apparently, she’s a pretty good cook and is no stranger to fixing food for an army.
“They’re here!” a little girl yells before taking off running, her big blue eyes shielded behind a pair of cute purple glasses.
Brooklyn giggles as she takes off her coat and hangs it on the overflowing coatrack in the corner. “That’s Lydia, Will and Carmen’s daughter. She just turned six last week,” Brooklyn says, waving at her little cousin who hides around the corner of the entryway.
The shy girl waves back, but doesn’t take her eyes off me, the stranger in the house. I give her a little wave, but she turns and runs into the room full of people. Figures. I’m making a great impression already.
Suddenly, the noise draws closer as a slew of people starts to file into the foyer of the house. I’m pulled into hugs by the women and glared at by the men. I officially meet Nate and Lia, Will and Carmen, Travis and Josselyn, and even my Lieutenant, Jake, and his wife, Erin. There are kids too—so many damn kids—and I’m pretty sure I won’t recall even one of their names if I were to take a test on them.
Brooklyn introduces me to her brother, Ryder, who’s home from college, as well as her younger brother and sister that I met in the grocery store. Her mom, Avery, pulls her daughter into a big hug and kisses her forehead before turning to me. Without any warning, the woman pulls me into a hug too and whispers, “Thank you.”
“For what?” I ask, even though I have an idea.
“That bullet was meant for my daughter. You stepped in front of it, protecting her and causing bodily injury to yourself in the process. So, thank you, Becker, from the bottom of my heart.”
Her eyes are glassy as I try to swallow over the lump in my throat. “You’re welcome,” I reply, glancing over at Brooklyn, who’s wrapped in her father’s arms. “I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”
She smiles fondly at me. “I’m happy you’re here, Becker. This family is a lot to handle, but I think you’re going to fit in just fine,” she says, patting me on the arm.
I’m pulled into another set of arms, these belonging to an older woman. She smells of sugar and cinnamon, and I already know this is the infamous Elizabeth Stevens I’ve been hearing so much about. She hands me off to her husband, Michael, who shakes my hand and leads me into the living room to watch football.
The next hour is spent in a daze. The adults hang out, talking and snacking on appetizers, while the kids keep busy in the rooms upstairs. Normally, I’d feel overwhelmed with so many sets of eyes on me, assessing and judging me, but that’s not really the case here. In fact, it feels almost normal and right.
The family tries to include me in conversations, and even asks me a lot of questions about my life in Oklahoma, as well as my own family. I don’t tell them about my past on the force, but I get the feeling that even if I did, they wouldn’t judge. Brooklyn stays by my side, providing constant support with the subtle brushes of her leg against mine or the gentle touch of my arm.
I excuse myself to use the restroom, knowing dinner will be ready soon. I try to prepare myself for what is probably going to be a very boisterous dinner. They are about to start setting up tables all over the place to seat the entire Stevens family. Deciding I could use a few scored points, I wash my hands and head out to help set up the tables and chairs.
When I step into the hallway, I find my captain there. He’s looking up at one of the photos on the wall, the hint of a smile on his face. I go to step around him, assuming he’s just waiting for the restroom, when he speaks.
“The first time I met her, I knew she was special.”
I stop in my tracks and turn to face him. He continues to gaze up at the wall, so my eyes follow his to a portrait of a wedding photo. I can tell instantly that it’s my captain by his dark eyes and hair. There’s also no mistaking the woman standing beside him, her long blonde hair and striking blue eyes vivid in the photograph. Avery hasn’t aged much at all, I realize, even after more than twenty years of marriage.
And then my eyes land on the little girl, her matching blonde hair and blue eyes shining brightly in the photo. She’s wearing a little white dress too, and is in the arms of the man standing beside me.
“Brooklyn was three when I fell in love with her mother, even though I’d probably loved her my entire adult life. But her,” he says, pointing to his daughter, “she gave me purpose in life. She showed me what unconditional love meant.”
I glance his way, surprised to see tears reflected in his eyes. Suddenly, it’s hard to breathe in this too-small hallway.
Captain turns to me and levels his gaze at me. “I made a mistake with her mother. We didn’t want anyone to know we were dating,” he says, shaking his head and looking down. “But that’s not what she deserved.” His eyes return to mine. “Don’t hide my daughter. If you want to date her, I’ll respect that, but please don’t hide it. Cherish her for the amazing woman she is.
“I saw what you did in that warehouse. I watched as you jumped in front of a bullet. I saw the look in your eyes when you made that split-second decision to protect her, sacrificing yourself. I saw it and recognized it because I have the same look in my eyes when I see my wife.
“I’m not saying you’re in love with her.” He rubs his temples and grimaces. “Hell, the thought of that makes me a little crazy. What I’m saying is do right by her. Be professional at work, respecting the positions you are both in, and appreciate the amazing, gentle, sassy person she is outside of it.”
He glances back up at the photo and smiles. “She’s my little girl and she’s everything to me.”
When he turns my way, he holds out his hand for me to shake. “I promise, sir. I’ll do right by your daughter.”
He nods and turns and walks away, his hands stuffed in his pockets and his head hanging down.
I’m left standing there, watching as he leaves his daughter’s happiness in my hands. My heart soars with excitement as I think about spending more time with her. Dinners, movies, and other dating stuff. I can’t wait, and knowing that I have her father’s blessing only makes it that much sweeter.
Glancing up at the wall of photographs, I smile at the images. Weddings, graduations, and family portraits. Five kids, each with their own families. In the middle of all of them is an old, faded photograph of Michael and Elizabeth’s wedding. It started with those two and has branched into the big family gathered in the other room.
And I’m a part of it.
At least for today.
No, I don’t know what my future will hold, but I’m hoping for the chance to explore more with Brooklyn. Her dad’s right; she’s a special woman, one who deserves to be loved and cherished. I’m not there, yet, but I see myself there one day. The man who comes home to her every night. The lucky bastard who gets to wake up beside her every morning.
That’s what I want.
Someday.
I turn toward where the family is gathered, prepared to help them finish setting up, but when I turn, the hallway is blocked. There stands four men, all with a serious look on their faces, all staring directly at me.
“Uh
, hey, guys,” I state, looking from one to the next, my armpits suddenly a little sweaty. None of them say anything, which makes the tension in the small space even thicker, a solid reminder of why I fucking hate small spaces.
Running my hand along the back of my neck, I take a small step forward. “So…anyone have a flamethrower?” I ask with a chuckle, referring to the story I was told about her uncles using the unregulated device to scare off Brooklyn’s prom date.
Travis snorts a laugh. “Not anymore. Jake’s wife made him destroy it years ago.”
Relief washes through me and my shoulders relax.
Just then, my lieutenant steps forward, places his big, meaty arm around my shoulder and steers me back down the wall. I can feel the other uncles behind me, blocking any chance of an exit, as we head up the stairs. “No, flamethrower, Ramsey,” he says. “But I want to show you my laser bazooka.”
Epilogue
Brooklyn
“Look, it’s snowing,” Becker says behind me, his gaze directed out the back door of his condo.
Turning away from the sink, I’m treated to the view of my partner wearing those hip-hugging jeans and a thick Henley shirt. Everything is framed to perfection, from his lean hips to his muscular arms. He looks positively delicious, as he has all day. It was hard to keep my hands off him while in the company of my family.
Grandma sent us home with enough leftovers to keep us fed for a few days, so instead of cooking tonight, we heated up leftover turkey and potatoes, green beans, and rolls. I wasn’t quick enough when I came to get the last few rolls stuffed in my to-go bag, but Grandma didn’t disappoint. She pulled a small bag of half a dozen rolls out of the pantry where she hid them and secretly put them in my bag.
I turn off the water, dry my hands, and meet him at the back door. Becker’s arm instantly wraps around my shoulder, draping me in warmth and security. Security I didn’t know I needed or wanted. Just having him near makes me feel things I’ve never felt before, and I hope we get to continue to explore those feelings.