Chapter Three #3
We get out of the SUV, and he comes around the vehicle.
He looks so happy, it’s hard not to feel okay about my decision.
I feel even better about it when he slings his arm loosely around my shoulders.
The press of his hip against mine makes my dick hard.
I know I’m playing with fire by allowing my attraction toward him to grow, but it feels impossible to ignore.
From the moment I set eyes on him, I’ve felt the strangest sense that he’s mine.
I know that’s insanity, but I can’t shake the possessive emotions.
When we enter The Fox & The Kettle it’s busier than it was last night. I recognize a few faces from the station sitting at the bar. Diane from the front desk, Sally, and Detective Wong in civilian clothes looking relaxed and maybe a little buzzed.
“You made it,” Sally says cheerfully.
“Of course he did.” Liam’s arm tightens around my shoulders.
“Sit, sit.” Sally gestures to the empty stools beside them. “What are you drinking?”
“Just a beer,” I mumble.
Wong catches the bartender Jim’s attention and before long I have an ice cold mug of beer in front of me.
Liam takes the stool next to me, and his leg presses mine.
I’m positive he’s not even aware our legs are touching, but I’m achingly aware of the contact.
Last night he was kissing a woman, so I’m pretty sure he’s straight.
Unfortunately, my dick didn’t get the memo.
The touch of his leg and the scent of his woodsy cologne has me hard. I just pray Liam doesn’t notice.
More people from the station enter the bar.
They come over and slap me on the back, saying nice things.
My face hurts from fake smiling so much.
There are a lot of questions about Atlanta and about my first day.
I try to keep up, try to seem engaged, but my shoulders are tight and I’m uncomfortable being the center of attention.
After a while, I start to feel a little claustrophobic and jittery.
I do my best to hide how anxious I feel, but I’m sweating like the last donut at a cop convention.
At one point, Liam shifts toward me and our eyes meet. “You good?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I lie.
He narrows his eyes and studies me, then he turns to address a guy sitting a few seats down at the bar. “Hey, Tucker, didn’t you have to arrest a naked guy dressed like Santa yesterday?”
Tucker looks up and laughs. “I sure as hell did. The guy was nutso.”
Sally giggles. “Oh, I remember that call. Wasn’t he a pastor or something?”
People start asking Tucker questions, and he launches into a story about the drunk, naked Santa. Liam turns back toward me, only this time he shifts his body so that he’s between me and the others, blocking their view of me.
He winks. “There. Now everyone has forgotten about you because of naked Santa.”
“Thanks.” I give a weak smile, relieved to have the attention off of me.
I take a long drink of my beer and let myself observe rather than participate.
I try to focus on the cozy ambiance of the bar rather than how much I hate social situations.
The room is warm, filled with the low hum of conversation and classic rock playing on the jukebox.
My anxiety fades as Liam continues to shield me with his body from the rest of the group.
After a few minutes, Liam asks, “How long were you with Atlanta PD?”
“Uh, five years.”
He frowns. “How old are you?”
“Twenty-nine. I joined the force back home in Florida when I was nineteen.”
He smiles. “So, we’re the same age.”
“Guess so.”
He sips his drink, swallows, and leans closer. “Chief said you had a decade of experience. So it was Florida before Atlanta.”
“Yep,” I say, trying not to notice how good he smells. “But I split those five years at two different stations.”
“I see.” He nods. “Then you decided to move to a bigger department in another state.”
“Yep.”
He studies me. “You didn’t feel sad leaving your home state?”
“Nope.” He obviously thinks that’s weird. Spending the day with him made it apparent he loves living in Golden Peak. It was also obvious anyone who knows him loves him. That’s not how it’s ever been for me.
“But you probably made friends with the people in Atlanta, right?” When I don’t respond, he adds, “You ever hang out off the clock with your partner back in Atlanta?”
“Not really.”
He raises his brows. “Never?”
I grimace. “I had a few different partners. My last partner worked with me for three years. I wasn’t close to any of them though.”
“Not even your last one?”
I shake my head. “Not really.”
“You seriously never got together after work for drinks?” He frowns. “Was that your choice or his?”
I’m surprised he’s being so nosy. He’s had a couple of tequila shots with his beer and his pupils are slightly dilated. I suspect that’s why he’s being more inquisitive. He was careful during our shift not to ask too many personal questions, but the alcohol must be loosening his tongue.
It must be loosening mine too because I admit, “Mostly his.”
“Really?” He wrinkles his brow.
I sigh. “Other than our job, we didn’t have much in common.”
“Do you keep in contact?”
With that backstabber? Hell, no.
I shake my head. “We don’t talk.”
“Three years partnered with the guy and you don’t talk?” His expression says that does not compute in his world. “Did something happen?”
I stiffen. I have no intention of going into detail about what made me leave Atlanta. I want a fresh start and telling everyone what happened will only hinder that. “Sometimes you just don’t click with a partner. Derek and I didn’t click.”
“Hmmm.” He watches me for a few seconds then asks, “How about us?”
I frown. “What about us?”
“Do we click?” His voice is softer now and his gaze very focused.
I swallow. “I think we do.”
“Okay.”
“But it’s only been one day.”
“True,” he says quietly. “We had a good first day though.”
“It went way better than I thought it would.” I hesitate.
“Do… do you think we click?” I’m not sure what possesses me to ask him that.
I suppose it’s because the conversation has a strange undercurrent.
Something about the way he’s watching me feels almost intimate.
Or am I just reading into things because I’m attracted to him?
Is it my imagination that his gaze keeps dropping to my mouth?
“I think we do,” he says quietly. “Feels like we’ve been partners a lot longer than one day.” A muscle works in his jaw. “In fact, when I saw you in here last night, I thought for a minute I knew you.”
At his confession, my pulse picks up. “I… I had the same feeling.”
“Did you?” He laughs gruffly. “It was weird. I’d have sworn we knew each other, but I’m positive we’ve never met, right?”
“No, we’ve never met that I’m aware of.”
He wrinkles his brow, looking muddled. “Why do you suppose we both felt that?”
“I have no idea,” I say softly, holding his gaze. “What do you think it means?”
Before he can respond, the pretty red-head from last night suddenly appears out of nowhere. She slips her arms around his neck and says, “Hey, baby, I finally made it.”
Then she proceeds to plant a big, wet kiss on his mouth.