Greer

Danika bounces off me, and I rush to grip her elbows, to keep her from going splat. I start to lecture her on being more careful, but then I see see her.

And damn. I wasn’t expecting a dress. It’s . . . red. Wait, what is her hair doing?

Good things. Great, actually. It’s kind of loose on the sides, but still pulled away from her face. A piece of it is caught on her glossy bottom lip. Wait, there’s lipstick involved here, too?

What have I walked into?

The softness of her skin distracts me from how different she looks, but only for a few seconds, because she straightens, and I’m back to gaping like a fucking jackass.

I flash back to academy orientation when she strolled in wearing sneakers, a T-shirt and jeans, her hair doing that flippy ponytail thing. She’d turned heads dressed like that. I’d been forced to refer to my notes when giving my standard new recruit speech, because she’d sat right in the front row with her big, brown eyes. I like that girl. The tough one who walks the walk. I’m not sure how I feel yet about this whole red dress business, except for one concrete fact.

If there are single men at this party, I’m going to escort them out. In handcuffs, if necessary. Am I being completely irrational? Yes. Not to mention selfish, considering I’m never going to be relationship material for Danika.

“I brought back your mother’s Tupperware,” I push past my tightening throat. “And the edge of your bra is showing.”

Danika looks at me like I’m soft in the head. “So fix it.”

Touch her in that dress? “I shouldn’t have to. It should be underneath your clothes.”

She does a two-finger press to her temple. “Let’s start over, okay?”

“Great idea,” I return, equally irritated. And out of place. And a little desperate to have this girl to myself—right now—when I know I shouldn’t. “Take the Tupperware, please. It took me ten minutes to get the stupid top on, and I never want to look at it again.”

“Tough day?” she asks, her eyes warming with amusement.

“Yeah,” I answer honestly.

Her smile dims and she takes the Tupperware. A little frown forms between her brows when she feels the weight, but I try to appear busy checking my phone while she lifts the clear plastic and looks inside. “Is that a brownie?” She lowers the container. “A frosted one?”

“It’s for your mother.” People are starting to notice me standing out in the hallway, my brother being one of them, followed by Jack and the girls. Which leads to a fucking parade of raised eyebrows. Ignoring them, I do a quick scan of the room, but it doesn’t yield any men of a marriageable age. Though I can’t see the whole place where I’m standing. Is this why I came here? To make sure no one else can have her, including myself? “I can’t stay.”

Danika shakes her head, but she’s still looking at the brownie. “You’re staying.”

“I’m on shift.”

“Leave if you get a call.” Her brown eyes hit me with the impact of a meteor. “Please?”

My stomach grows heavy. Has she ever spoken that word to me? Hearing it from her mouth makes me hot and anxious. It glues my feet to the floor and keeps me from leaving, simply because she asked me to stay. “Last time I asked you please, your answer was no.”

The darkening of her cheeks tells me she knows what I’m talking about. “I’ll change it to yes if you give this brownie to my mother yourself.”

“That seems a little personal.”

“So is the kiss I plan to let you take,” she whispers.

Jesus. How have I managed not to drag her out of the apartment like King Kong on steroids yet? Let you take. She’s speaking in our language. The kind we create more of every time we’re together. “You drive a hard bargain,” I say, moving closer, until she’s forced to step to the side. As soon as I’ve moved from the dark hallway into the light, the craziest thing happens.

Someone is actually happy to see me.

Danika’s mother comes swooping in like a perfumed bird, soaring through the guests with her wings out. “Lieutenant Burns, you came to my birthday!”

“Yes.”

Before I can avoid it, I’m being hugged. Across the room, Charlie’s eyeballs almost pop out of his skull, and if he doesn’t stop staring, I might speed the process along. Everyone is looking at me wondering who the hell called the police, but apart from my brother, no one is making a huge deal out of me being hugged in public. Which lets me consider how I feel knowing I made a good impression on Danika’s parents.

Good. Dangerously good.

Behind me, Danika is discreet about placing the Tupperware in my grip, but just like her daughter, this woman sees everything. She eases back and eyes the container with her hands clasped beneath her chin until I give it over. “I brought you a brownie.”

“Oh, thank you. Thank you.” I grimace as she pries off the impossible lid, takes a big whiff of the baked good, then reseals it with zero effort. “Come right in. What do you like to drink? Danika will take care of you.”

Yes, she mentioned that. “Milk, please. I’m on duty.”

Danika shakes her head at my choice, but skates off to fill my order, her mother in tow. I almost storm after them when I see Danika’s dress doesn’t have a goddamn back, but manage to hold myself in check, because there are still no bachelors skulking around. I’ll have to check the bathroom and the fire escape when I get a chance.

Charlie, Jack, Ever and Katie approach like a foursome of marionettes. I picture them coming from a huddle, my brother as quarterback. Look casual. Ready? Break. And then they all do the exact opposite. It doesn’t escape my notice that Jack doesn’t look thrilled to see me. “Hey,” starts Charlie, a cup of soda pressed to his bottom lip. “So, uh . . . when did you meet Danika’s mother?”

“Yeah, you guys seem pretty chummy,” Jack adds. “Meeting someone’s mother isn’t something you do unless you have honorable intentions, though.”

Bolts tighten on either side of my neck. “Until a few weeks ago, you wouldn’t have known an honorable intention if it bit you on the ass, Garrett.”

Katie doesn’t like what I have to say. “That’s a load of bollocks. He was always very honorable with me. Except those few times.” She purses her lips. “And a few times after that . . .”

“Let’s not have a fight in the middle of the party,” Ever murmurs, her smile tight. “I have it on good authority that church folks make the best eavesdroppers.”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to alert Jack to the fact that he isn’t telling me something I don’t already know. I berated myself on the way to the party for being too weak to stay away from Danika when there’s nothing I can offer her but sex. My lack of honorable intentions has been at the forefront of my damn mind since Wednesday night. I’m well aware I’m behaving like a bastard, and it stings even more because I should be setting a better example for my recruits. For my brother.

My gaze seeks out the only girl who’s ever succeeded in making me break the rules—

And after about twenty seconds, I really do not like what I’m seeing.

She’s hobbling around in those heels, for chrissakes. My milk is in one hand, but she can’t make it two feet in my direction before someone asks for a refill, or inquires about the cake or secures a favor for later in the week. For the first time since I arrived, I notice the balloons. There are a million colors, all tied in strategic spots. Out of the way, but still visible. There’s a banner with her mother’s name on it, streamers flowing out from either side. Chinese lanterns of various sizes are tacked to the ceiling, candles are bunched on several surfaces. “Who helped her with the party?” I bark the question at the foursome. “Did you guys help her do any of this?”

“No . . .” Jack looks around, as if he’s just noticed the decorations, too. Slowly, everyone’s gazes light on the beer icing in the sink, the food, the rearranged furniture. “She was gone by the time we got home. I would’ve helped if she’d asked.”

“Me, too,” Ever says. “She couldn’t have done all this alone, right?”

Nobody has an answer, but I already have one. My stomach is starting to hurt watching her run the show, all nods and taking mental notes. How often does she do this? Constantly? Last time I was here, she’d just finished fixing the leaky sink and dropping off a prescription. Her cousin calls her about an impending robbery and she hops into a cab, no questions asked. She carries the world—her world—on her shoulders, and somehow I love that about her and hate it at the same time. Explain that one, Dr. Phil.

Have I been so wrapped up in Danika I forgot why I put her on probation in the first place? She’s a cowgirl who wants to save the day all by herself, no matter the cost. But I’m not going to let that happen again on my watch.

After what seems like an hour, Danika breaks free and approaches us, extending the milk out for me to take. “Hey, sorry that took so long.” She tucks a piece of stray hair behind her ear. “I just have to run out for more beer—”

“No, you don’t!” everyone shouts at once.