“Do you like your job here?”
Her eyes harden. “It’s a job. Not a career choice.”
I can’t help my eyes traveling over her. Damn. I’ve never been drawn to curves on a woman before since I never cared. Realizing I’m staring, I look out the window and blurt, “So, where do you come from?”
Feeling the table move, I look up to see her leaning toward me, glaring. Her eyes captivate me, and I stare. “Oh, because my skin is darker than yours, that gives you the right to know where I’m from? Although it’s none of your business, my father is Irish and English, and my mother is Black and Puerto Rican. Is that a damn problem for you? Do you feel better now? What else must you know about me, officer, before you pat me down?”
At a loss for damn words, I stutter, “I just thought maybe you were from L.A. or San Fran. Jesus.”
She straightens and spins on her heel, nearly sprinting to the counter.
“What the fuck?” I mutter for the twentieth time today. Thankfully, no one saw me since anything I say will be used against me everywhere. Behind the counter, Natalia’s hands go to her face. Why do I fucking care if she talks to me or not? I’ve never gone out of my way to make friends. There’s Jordan, Tristan, and maybe Deedle when he’s not stoned. I guess I can include Finn. Ricky? He wishes. But they all approached me first.
On the clock, I suppose I need to establish good public relations. I can’t do my job all by myself. Witnesses fill in the missing pieces of a crime, helping us bring criminals to justice, so their cooperation is essential. Damn them.
Getting up, I go to the empty counter and sit on a stool. “Why do you have a problem with me? I’ve been nice to you.”
Natalia smooths her light blue uniform and walks over to me. Her beautiful eyes are a little glassy, but she gives zilch away. “Nice? You come in here, parading your gun and polishing your badge like you’re at the O.K. Corral.”
I laugh because it’s unexpected from someone so delicate looking. “I’m not Wyatt Earp.”
“Not even close. You’re a rookie cop. You have everything to prove to people who don’t give a damn. You cut your teeth on unsuspecting women with your puffed-up authority, smug swagger, and half-cocked attitude. Take a hike. I’m not that woman.”
My mouth falls open like she just gut-punched me, especially since Taggart just called me cocky. “Whoa. That’s not…I wasn’t…I just wanted to get to know you.”
“Why, really? What’s in it for you?” Natalia grabs a coffee cup and avoids looking my way.
“Nothing. I’m just polishing my badge.” She bites her lip as she removes a carafe and pours coffee. “And parade? I’d need a permit for that. And you’re kind of raining on it right now.”
Natalia quickly turns away from me and clears her throat. My gaze returns to her ass, and I watch her move. She’s agile, but I notice her hands shaking as she reaches for an order. Turning to me, she sets it down. “Your club, officer.”
“Really. I’m just Dylan.” I hold out my hand. “Dylan McGrath.”
She stares at my hand but doesn’t offer hers. “You’re not just Dylan. You can hurt and kill.”
I drop my hand, kind of offended. “Actually, I took an oath to serve and protect. Kind of the opposite.”
“Maybe in a perfect world, but we know it’s not, Officer McGrath.” Her enchanting eyes leave my face, and she quietly offers, “Have a nice lunch.” Natalia goes into the kitchen, leaving me alone at the counter and shutting down our non-conversation. A Black, older waitress behind the counter shakes her head. “Good luck with that one.”
“What’s her deal?”
“Life has burned her. Too many times. She’s hesitant.”
“That was her, hesitant? She just annihilated me and didn’t bat an eye.”
The woman shrugs. “A defense mechanism.” She walks over to me with a smile. I don’t receive many of those from anyone in fucking Joy Springs. “I’m Marilou.”
I smile back. “Dylan.”
Marilou nods toward my table. “I see you’re stuck with The Dragon.”
I laugh. “Say what?”
“Sergeant Lynn Taggart. She’s a tough one. Her recruits? She always brings them in here for lunch. They’ve all barely made it out of training alive or sane.”
“Awesome,” I mutter.
“To be honest, it’s not your job performance that will end you.”
“It’s not?”
“Hmm-mm.” She shakes her head and nods toward the kitchen, where Natalia disappeared. “It’s her.” Marilou steps closer and whispers, “For the past year, since returning to Joy Springs, Natalia’s opinion influences Taggart’s training. If Natalia likes you, your training will go a lot smoother.”
“Are you serious? So far, she hates me. Am I doomed to fail now?”
“No, but tread carefully. Maybe don’t get on her bad side.”
I nod as I contemplate that. “I don’t kiss ass.”
Marilou laughs. “I like you.” She pats my shoulder with her notepad. “But sometimes you have to do whatever you can to stay afloat.”
“How in the hell did anyone make it through training if she hates cops?”
“That’s not the case. The Dragon’s recruits have been women, at least for as long as I’ve known her, and that’s twelve years.”
“Come again?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“I don’t know if that’s good or bad. So, I not only have to prove myself to The Dragon,” I laugh again at that, “but to a waitress who hates men?”
“I can’t divulge all of Natalia’s personal business. Just know she is a good person. Don’t give up.” Marilou pats my hand with a smirk.
“Give up on what?”
She blows air through her closed lips as a reply and then laughs. “I see you watching her.” Marilou leans onto the counter and whispers, “And I mean watching her.”
I start to argue, but the kitchen door swings open, and Natalia reappears. Marilou darts to busy herself with another customer.
Picking up my plate, confused as fuck, I walk to the booth, and Taggart asks, “Do you not have the capacity to listen?”
“What?”
“She’s a challenge for you, and you don’t like her turning you down.”
I laugh. “Who? Marilou? Not really. I like her. We’re already friends.” It surprises the hell out of me.
Taggart’s frown is swift. “Not her. Natalia.”
I’m tired of her bullshit judging. “She didn’t turn me down. I picked up my sandwich.”
“She’s not an airhead you’ve dated in the past.”
“I’ve never dated an airhead.” I feel like I’m spinning, blindfolded. “You think I’m a player?”
“Actions speak louder than words.”
I’m both amused and offended, and it’s a confusing place to be. “What actions? I haven’t done anything. And I don’t judge people like that,” I say, shaming her for shaming me.
“When I have the evidence in front of me, that’s hard to disprove.”
“Find new evidence.” Taggart purses her lips and raises a gray eyebrow, and I say, “Don’t make assumptions about me.”
“I’ve read your reports. I think I have a fairly good idea what you’re about, Officer McGrath.”
I sigh as Natalia returns to our table. Her perfume again knees me in the balls as much as her attitude. “Can I get you anything else, Lynn?”
“No, honey, but thank you.”
Natalia smiles at Taggart and then me, but her eyes linger longer than usual, making Taggart clear her throat. Natalia then smiles at Taggart and says, “Have a good day. See you tomorrow.”
I watch her return to the counter while pretending to look out the window across the room. I also see Marilou shaking her head at me and then rolling her eyes behind Natalia’s back.
When Taggart finishes her lunch, she yanks the invisible chain around my throat. As I follow, I glance to my left and see Natalia at another table, watching
me but then quickly pretend she was listening to her customer. I notice her chest heaving faster, and with renewed need, I imagine taking one of her tits into my mouth.
A challenge?
We’ll see about that.
Chapter 5
Natalia
As I watch him talking to Lynn, I can’t stop staring at how his back muscles move in his uniform shirt. It’s a big problem for me.
“Stare any longer, and you’ll set him on fire.”
Startled, I drop the handful of napkins I’m holding, and they flutter to the floor. “Shit,” I mumble, but not because of the napkins. I glance at Marilou before stooping to pick up my mess. “I don’t know what you mean.”
She laughs with a dramatic sigh as I scoop the napkins from the floor and toss them into the trash. Then I try to busy myself with another brainless task, even though I screwed up the last one. “Don’t play coy, girl.” She steps close to me to whisper, “Dragon’s new recruit is a man and a tasty snack, right?”
“I told you to stop calling her that.” I wipe the counter for the third time in ten minutes. “And I can’t believe you said that, a woman of your age.”
“I’m forty-nine. Not dead. And keep it up, lady. You’ll be looking down the barrel of fifty in the blink of an eye.”
“No, thanks.”
“Anyway, that’s neither here nor there. You know who I’m talking about.” Marilou puts her arm around me and giggles. “You’ve got the burning hots for him.”
“I promise you, I don’t, and that sounds like a disease needing a prescription.”
“He’s cute. Sexy, even. I’ll give him that, even though he’s young enough to be—”
“Stop!” I hiss and move away from her. Jesus in Heaven, I hope she lets this go. But I know better, working with her for almost two miserable years—not because of Marilou. I consider her a close friend. Still, I don’t tell her my inner-most desires. No way. The only one I tell those to is my mirror. My mother is probably watching me from above and would haunt me from beyond the grave if I become a repeat offender. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, then I’m a dumbass who didn’t learn her lesson the first time. At least, that’s what Mom would say.
“His name is Dylan.”
“I know that.”
“Mm-hmm. I bet you do.”
I pour coffee for a regular sitting at the counter as Marilou follows. “Don’t you have your own business to mind?”
“Not when it’s The Young and the Restless up in here.”
“Oh, my God.” I smile at Mr. Cartwright, who is reading the paper, oblivious to our argument.
“I saw you talking to him.”
“And you didn’t hear what I said.”
Marilou jerks her thumb toward the window. “Oh, the car wash next door heard you.”
I suck my teeth. “Do you have a point?” I return the carafe and irritably turn away from her, hating that she knows more than I want her to.
Marilou corners me with her hands on her hips, and I can’t escape. “Why were you so hard on him? He’s a nice guy.”
I pick lint from her shoulder and drop it into the trash can next to me. “They all start out that way.”
Marilou’s smile dies, and she gives me a stern look. “He’s not your ex.”
“And if I date him, he soon will be.” I nudge past her and go for the kitchen door, but Marilou blocks me again.
“Dylan is different.”
“How do you know? You’ve known him for two minutes.”
She shrugs, and her sudden grin disturbs me. “I felt the flames of desire roaring off the both of you like a raging inferno—”
“No more reading from the bargain bin for you.”
She waves me off with a hiss. “Maybe you should remove the stick up your butt and read one for yourself. Loosen you up some.” Marilou shimmies, making her breasts jiggle, and then laughs at my horrified expression.
“I’m done with you.” I push past her to pick up my orders from Ollie in the kitchen. “Forever!”
“You’re no fun,” I hear her mutter as I go into the kitchen. So, I’ve been told.
When I return, she’s still on her warped and useless mission to sell Dylan to me. There’s no need. I’m damaged goods, and he’ll only break me more. “You know, maybe he’ll jump at the chance if you ask him out. You’re beautiful, smart—”
“And not his type.”
Marilou frowns. “He talks to me. I’m usually a good judge of character, and I like him. Not as much you do…”
Rolling my eyes, I deliver my orders to the elderly couple who eat here every Tuesday, Liam, a retired baker, and his wife, Fawn, a retired florist. They’re British and a bright spot every week.
“Thank you, lass,” Liam says with a wink and a smile.
“How are you this afternoon?” Fawn asks.
“I’m great. I found peony bulbs at the store and will plant them this spring.”
“Oh, how wonderful! My favorite.”
I grin as she regales her love for the flower as I catch Lynn and Dylan rising from their table. The way he carries himself is confident yet unassuming, like he’s unaware of his effect on people. Ok, fine…me. His uniform pants fit him impeccably, but they’d look better on the damn floor.
Marilou has corrupted me. I want to grab Dylan’s ass while he pounds my pussy until I can’t walk, but that can never happen. We’re from different galaxies. I need to remember that and keep that fantasy solely between my vibrator and me.
As they walk to the door, Lynn waves at me, and I automatically smile. But then Dylan looks at me, and time freezes. Sharp tingles stab my body more than a crime of passion. Underneath my uniform, my nipples harden, and my pussy tightens. I’ve never had this type of reaction to a man before, let alone a white police officer. And I’m quite familiar with them—my father’s white, and he was a cop.
Desire for Dylan blasts me, and I burn. It’s a crucial need. No talking needed. Just rough, primal sex. At least that’s the only kind I’m used to, wanted or not.
I gasp and look away, mumbling a polite excuse to Liam and Fawn. I’m tempted to go into the storage room and get myself off there, but I’m so wound-up people would hear me.
Behind the counter, I set down my tray and go into the kitchen to find the rail-thin man with a scraggly gray beard, “Ollie, I’m not feeling well.”
“Seriously? Who’ll run your section?” Elves. I don’t fucking care. “I don’t know. But I—” In an Oscar-worthy performance, I cover my mouth with my hand and gag.
Ollie immediately shrieks, “Go, Welch!”
Dropping my hand, I hurry to the storage room to grab my light jacket and purse. When I return to the dining area, I see Marilou staring at me. Shit. Quickly, I mutter, “I need to go home. I’m sick.”
She frowns and then rolls her eyes. “Lovesick. Easily cured, but you won’t let me play Cupid.”
Ignoring that, I hightail it out the back door and to my car. The walk is agonizing, but the drive isn’t far to the house where I grew up. Driving, I squeeze my thighs together and brush my fingers between my legs once. When I pull into the crumbling concrete driveway, I stop in front of the one-car garage. I bound up the stairs to the beige house with dark-blue shutters, my mother’s colors of choice for the house my dad bought for her before his arrest. Afraid she’d die young, she added me to the deed. Sadly, she was right.
Barreling through the front door, I throw off my jacket and toss my purse onto the couch and fly up the staircase to my bedroom. Tearing off my uniform and then underwear and bra, I get into bed and reach into my nightstand, pulling out the much-needed, hot-pink toy. Opening my legs, I dig two fingers inside of me to the squeezing of my muscles. “Fuck,” I whisper, though I live alone.
Turning on the vibrator, my pussy again contracts in anticipation before I slide it into me. I close my eyes, and I see Dylan’s face smiling at me. Amid the buzzing, I push and pull as I move my hips. “Dylan,” I moan. “Make me
come.” While my right hand holds on to the toy, my left pinches my nipples, and I imagine his lips closing over one, sucking. Lifting my hips more off the bed, I’m impatient with the slow build—I’m a pressure cooker, ready to blow. Sitting up, I kneel with my legs apart, and I fuck it this way. Cradling my tits with my left arm, I tweak my right nipple as I pull the vibrator out of me and then slam down onto it.
“Fuck my pussy good. I want to come on your cock.” I’ve never been inclined to have sex for the hell of it, so needing him inside my body and giving me pleasure is foreign to me. My starving cunt squeezes more, and I moan from joy and pain. Pulling the dildo out, I target its vibrations on my clit. “Lick it, Dylan.” Sending the hot-pink dick into me again, I again fuck hard, bouncing my bed and my tits.
The familiar pull looms, and I open my legs more, pumping faster. “Dylan, I’m going to come. I need to so fucking bad. I want to own that cock.” I yell as my pussy explodes, putting porn stars on notice as my voice drowns out the buzzing.
When I’m wrung out, I stop thrusting, but the vibrating continues and sends little shocks through me. I again whisper, “Oh, Dylan.”
Then I wipe the tears from my eyes, hating that he’ll never see me the way I see him. I’ll forever be fucking an imaginary substitute to fill the void of someone who doesn’t view me worthy because of what I look like on the outside. To that end, he’ll never see or feel me on the inside. It should be his loss, but I feel more like I’m the one being punished.
Chapter 6
Today, my first week with Taggart is over, and I’ve made it this far. The job is mostly driving around, checking on frequent fliers, as Taggart calls them, and traffic enforcement. She makes me do all the grunt work—writing speeding tickets, citing people for breaking municipal codes and fetching her drinks and snacks—which annoys me. She enjoys when I stumble over things, like writing reports and doing paperwork, which is the bulk of my job. Sort of disappointing when I spent months busting my ass to bulk up. The most exciting part of my day is lunch, and I eat little of it. Natalia barely talks to me, shoots me dirty looks, and couldn’t give a fuck, but I’m still attracted to her. At least she’s pretty, and that’s a sad understatement.
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