I know if I do, I won’t sleep a wink, but maybe it’ll make her feel better.
Could Moose survive one night with a total stranger?
The real question was could a total stranger survive a whole night of Moose?
“I should’ve told them you weren’t here,” my mom huffs, wringing her hands in her napkin in front of an empty plate.
An old buddy from the precinct I used to work with called me, told me the groomer I’d left Moose with for the weekend was in the hospital.
“Some broad who nearly killed your groomer with nut milk has Moose, apparently… Just thought you should know,” he’d said.
And I’m glad to know, even though it makes me so mad.
Makes me wonder what’s wrong with people.
Who the fuck drinks nut milk, anyway? And why would she give it to Sasha? Everyone knows about her allergies.
Allergies.
I consider the word as I look over at my mom again, sighing.
“I guess I could stay one night,” I murmur, regretting it instantly.
Sorry Moose, but Dad’s gonna be a little late in collecting you. Hang in there and try not to hurt anyone, will ya?
“That’s a good boy,” my mom says, patting my hand. Finally helping herself to a tiny portion of food.
It’s the least I can do, and the only thing I can think of to lessen the shock of me suddenly rushing off again.
I haven’t seen my mom in six months, and every time I do she looks older and frailer.
“Just remember what I said,” she adds. “Give up that service, son. You’ve done more than your fair share,” she reminds me.
My shoulder throbs again. Always reminding me of that day, like they never took that damned bullet out.
“Don’t wait until it’s too late in life to start your own family… Not like your father and I did,” she laments. The tears threaten to return, but settle into a glassy look that I know is a reflection into the past.
Better times, all of them for her. And for my dad. Maybe better times for the whole world.
As I predict, it’s a sleepless night for me. Not that it would usually bother me or even surprise me after eating so much, but without Moose by my side, the only real family it feels like I have anymore. It’s a long and lonely night.
I can’t help but worry for him, even though I have the strange feeling he’s just fine without me, which honestly bugs me more than anything else.
I wait as long as I can once the sun’s up, but I can’t help it and before long I’m calling Sasha’s grooming salon and her cell trying to piece together just what the hell’s going on.
But there’s no answer.
There’s no breakfast yet either, my elderly mom being a late sleeper these days.
I use it as my window out and leaving a note as I slip out before she gets up. Rolling my truck down the gravel drive before starting it and heading back to the city.
I’ll call her later, I tell myself. Knowing I probably won’t.
Who was I kidding anyway? A whole two days with my mom?
It would’ve ended badly anyway. There’s a reason we don’t see each other often as it is.
I try the grooming salon and Sasha’s cell a dozen times on the way back to town, but nothing.
It’s my first port of call once I exit the freeway back into the city, as I decide to use my detective skills to find Moose if nobody will answer their damned phone.
Pulling up out front, I can see the ‘closed’ sign on the salon door, but I need to make sure Moose isn’t inside, so shielding my face with my hands against the glass I peer through the window.
Then I see it.
The note.
Red marker on a full sheet of paper, from someone, called Naomi.
I can’t believe what I’m reading.
Can’t believe anyone would be so naive, so innocent.
She’s politely written a note to tell me she’s looking after Moose, but instead of looking me up and calling me directly, she’s left her own cell number and address in the shop window for the whole world to see.
It’s behind glass, so I can’t tear it down.
Stabbing the cell number into my phone, I growl when it goes to voicemail.
Looks like a house call then.
Memorizing the address, I wince at the neighborhood. Poor Moose’s nose would be working overtime in his sleep if he’s had any.
It’s a known drug area and I don’t imagine Moose being able to switch off from his job.
I try Naomi a few more times along the way, wondering if it’s don’t answer your phone day or something all the way up until I reach her building.
Yep, it’s not where I’d want my dog put up for one night, let alone a whole weekend.
You did the right thing by coming back early.
“On my way to you now, buddy,” I murmur, locking up my truck and making sure it actually is locked before going inside.
I find the apartment she advertised for the whole city to see, surprised it’s not already taped off as a crime scene.
Before I can even give my cop’s knock on the grimy entrance, I hear Moose barking, then scratching at the door.
He’s okay. I know he is.
I hear a muffled, “Don’t tell me you need to go out again?” sleepy female voice before the door finally opens once I knock loudly again.
It opens an inch, a couple of chains stopping it from opening all the way, but not enough to stop Moose from trying to escape once he sees me.
Even though I only catch a glimpse of her, I feel myself having to pick my jaw up off the floor before I introduce myself.
“Officer Parker, K9 unit,” I hear myself tell her. “I’m here for my dog.”
Sleep misted eyes widen and I hear the chains loosen before Moose pushes his way out and leaps fully into my arms.
I’m happy to see him, sure.
But I can’t take my eyes off her.
She’s fucking perfect.
CHAPTER THREE
Naomi
Not again, Moose?
He can’t want to go out again. Surely.
Then I hear the knock. A cop’s knock if ever I’ve heard one.
Hear them every day in this building, but never on my door.
It’s hardly cold out, but as soon as I see him once I open the door just a little, as soon as I hear his deep voice introducing himself, I feel my nipples stiffen to under my T-shirt.
Sasha never said anything about Officer Parker being a six foot five wall of muscle that just happens to look like he stepped out of a magazine.
The phrase god’s gift to womankind springs to my mind, but not much else.
I’m suddenly awestruck by the man in front of me.
Dumbstruck is more the word.
Moose pushes the door aside once I let the chains off and leaps into his owner’s huge arms, which ripple and flex with a natural strength as he holds the huge dog as if he were still a puppy.
I try to say something, anything. But all I can do is run my eyes up and down his huge body as his dog wriggles with excitement, licking at his face, whining.
Making me wish I could switch with the hound for just a few moments.
To feel those strong hands gripping me so tight, to feel his hard body pressed up against mine…
I only become aware of the silence once Moose calms down enough to be let down, and his master’s eyes are scanning my body much the same way mine were his.
Except I’m nothing to look at. Not in gray sweats and a white T-shirt with holes in it courtesy of Moose the dog, and a stain I hope still looks like marinara sauce.
I feel myself blush once it registers the man’s scrutinizing cop’s stare is solely focused on my body.
I’m shy even on a good day, but when a perfect ten is eyeballing me in my jammies, it’s too much.
Guess I’ll just die then.
He lets out a low sound, almost a growl.
I think for a second that Moose is gro
wling, but he’s panting happily, looking up with loving eyes now that his dad’s come to pick him up.
The man’s lips curl into a satisfied grin on his chiseled face, the ginormous bulge at the front of his pants seems to have shifted as much as my chest has stiffened too.
My head tells me it’s the pleats in his pants, or the light, I try not to stare, but his low sounds only become deeper once he sees me unable to take my eyes off his thickening crotch.
A small, whimpering sound escapes me, and I feel a line of sudden, very hot wetness between my legs as I realize I’ve been pressing them together the whole time.
Something about the man, his presence, his cologne.
That dark hair and even darker eyes.
His everything. Tall, dark, and handsome if ever there was another that walked the earth.
I feel like getting down on all fours myself, barking at him to put a leash on me and make me do whatever he tells me to.
He’s magnificent.
Moose barks loudly, shattering the moment, but his master’s not looking any less pleased with either of us.
Suddenly kneeling down to pet his friend, Officer Parker ruffles Moose’s fur and nuzzles his face into his neck.
“I thought you had a bath, boy?” he murmurs, looking up at me, his penetrating eyes dancing with a friendly question.
“Uh… We had a problem yesterday, Officer Parker,” I stammer, covering my chest with folded arms, trying not to moan loudly once I brush my own bullet-hard nipples with them.
I shiver and feel my knees start to tremble. Like I’m about to burst down there if something doesn’t happen to make this stop.
Or make something happen to relieve this delicious pressure inside me.
He doesn’t skip a beat, only cocking his brow as he seems to inhale the air between us with flared nostrils before giving another of his satisfied growls.
“So I heard,” he remarks. “Is Sasha okay? I’ve been trying to reach her all morning. And you too,” he adds, suddenly looking serious before standing up, looming over me.
Instead of feeling worried, I want him to get closer. I feel like burying myself in those huge arms, holding onto him, and never letting go.
His whole aura just feels so safe, so warm and inviting.
Giving off a definite return signal of whatever it is I’m broadcasting.
My best attempt at flirty-sexy?
I wouldn’t know, I’ve never even tried. But if standing in my doorway, practically whining in my jammies, about to cream my own panties counts, then I’m a fast learner.
“Your address and number in the salon window was a stupid thing to do,” he says suddenly, making me feel a stab of hurt in my heart that until now has been doing somersaults.
He’s not angry, but concerned. Like overprotective concerned.
I guess he is a cop after all, and his job is to keep people safe.
“But I…” I try to tell him, not able to hide my hurt, and before I know it, the only wetness I can share with him is the tears streaming down my cheeks.
I’ve probably lost my job anyway, probably about to be sued for trying to kill my boss too. And now the cop in charge of Moose is at my door, wondering why I haven’t even bathed his dog and probably thinking I’m a halfwit for advertising my address and cell number to an entire city block.
He frowns, looking down at his feet before he looks up at me again.
“Hey, don’t cry,” he says apologetically. “And please don’t call me Officer Parker. Just Parker,” he adds, as I sniff and run the back of my hand across my face.
“I just meant it’s dangerous for a pretty young lady to go posting her address in a window is all…” he sighs, a hand almost reaching out for me, but falling before he can commit to it.
Did he just call me pretty?
I want to ask him in, to do something to make him stay just a little longer, but I’m too tongue tied, upset, and embarrassed to do anything but stand there like an idiot.
“Well, thanks for looking out for Moose,” he says finally, sounding disappointed all over again.
He lingers as long as politeness allows before letting me know he’ll head to the hospital and check on Sasha himself.
I stand helpless, speechless again as I watch his back turn, slowly moving down the hall.
Moose lingers too, looking from me to his owner, letting out another high pitch whine as his head tilts before choosing to follow his master.
The man I can’t believe just walked into my life and is now walking out again just as quickly.
The man I know I’d let master me any day of the week. Any time. Anyhow.
But once I see his huge frame find the stairwell, not even turning to look back, I know I must’ve imagined the look in his eyes.
Must have been kidding myself a real man like that, a man who could have any woman he wants would even look twice at a younger, chubby girl like me.
Who am I kidding? He probably refers to all women he meets as “pretty” out of politeness because he’s a gentleman.
No man would look at me, let alone someone like Parker.
Never even got his first name.
I want to stay, to keep waiting for him in the hall in case he comes back.
But my tears return.
The loud, barking sobs of my own self-loathing as I rush to get inside before anyone else sees or hears me.
I throw myself face down onto the sofa-bed in my one room apartment, crying like I’ve never cried before.
Crying like someone who’s seen what life could be like, but knows it never will be.
It’s the story of my life but I’ve never felt it hurt so much as it does today.
Something in me really believed that Parker was interested.
That I really stood a chance in this life.
In this body.
Even just for a moment.
And it felt freaking amazing.
CHAPTER FOUR
Parker
It feels like the same dream I’ve just walked into, I’m now walking away from.
What the fuck are you doing?
The most beautiful girl in the world, and I’m walking away?
I got Moose back, and I told Naomi she’s irresponsible for advertising her whereabouts.
Cop job done.
But that’s not what I’m feeling inside.
Not by a long shot.
It’s not what I want to leave behind and just walk away from.
My first instinct after seeing her there in her doorway is to cover her up.
To get that body of hers out of view of any other prying eyes, she’s too perfect for anyone but me to see.
That’s my gut instinct. To cover her with my own arms. My whole body against hers.
My non-cop side, Parker as a man instinct.
She’s mine. That’s the only thing I can tell myself when I finally manage a single thought, once I make it to the stairs.
I don’t even look back. I can’t.
Proving to myself I’m just walking away would destroy me.
Moose bucks and lags a little, something he’s never done when he’s on his leash with me.
Like I said, his keen senses pick up on everything, and it’s nothing for him to notice that there’s already something wrong with this picture.
He’s sure glad to see me, but it’s obvious he likes being around Naomi as well.
We both do.
I try and tell myself I’m just overtired, that there’s no way I’d have a chance with a girl like that. I mean, she must be half my age…
Those eyes.
That hair.
Jesus, those hips.
That chest.
I feel the pleasing ache returning to my crotch as it thickens again at the memory of her.
Can’t remember the last time I even looked at a woman, let alone felt like this.
Moose whines and tugs at his leash again in the stairwell, his neck craning back in the direction of her apartm
ent.
“C’mon buddy,” I reason with him, looking down knowing just how he feels.
Knowing his instinct is one I trust more than my own, but today I know we’re both right.
I try to command him to come with me, but he’s not having it.
He slips his leash, something I know most dogs can do if they really want, but it’s something he’s never done with me either.
Taking off up the stairs again, there’s only one place I know he’s going.
I give a sigh of frustration, but also have to hand it to Moose. Sometimes he’ll give me a push in his own special way.
Jogging after him, back up to her floor, I hear the muffled sound of raised voices.
Male and then female.
Moose barks and I shift into action. My own training kicking in within a split second.
My first concern is that it’s Naomi. My second is for my partner and buddy, Moose.
There’s always an unpleasant rush of adrenalin when he runs off ahead of me, putting himself in the firing line first.
Moving into the hallway I reach for the holster I’m not wearing.
Technically I’m off duty, my uniform and gun belt are in my locker at the precinct. A carbon copy of all of it in my house, in case of an emergency.
Right now I have my badge, and I have a Moose.
I also have a fucking good reason to step in when I hear Naomi’s shrill voice and the figure of a male in her apartment doorway, grabbing at her wrist.
Moose is lunging for the assailant, and I’m not gonna give him the command not to. Nor do I stop him once he has a hold of the guy by the arm.
Naomi screams and covers her mouth with both hands, almost falling back into her apartment.
I identify myself to her attacker and in a second, I’ve joined Moose in pinning him to the ground.
The guy’s no muscle head, but he is heavy. I command Moose to release and he does, reluctantly, planting his growling jaw right in the guy’s eyes but it doesn’t have the desired effect.
This guy’s wound up on something and he still has some fight in him.
I see the flash of a small steel blade when his bloody arm slips from my grip momentarily, and it streaks across my field of vision until I hear Moose’s jaw snap tight on the offender’s wrist.
Groomed For Love: A Steamy Standalone Instalove Romance Page 2
