All That I Am (Men of Monroe Book 1)

by Rachel Brookes

  “Don’t get in a hissy fit.”

  Oh yeah, she possessed a no bullshit attitude and said whatever the hell she wanted. She didn’t put up with my shit.

  “Gigi,” I warned.

  She sighed dramatically. “I was up feeding Dolly and heard something out here, so I thought I’d do neighborhood watch and check things out,” she replied matter-of-factly. “I can report I saw nothing.”

  Christ. “Gigi, you have my number, so use it. Don’t come out if you hear something. How many fuc—”

  “You were at work.”

  “Leave a message.”

  “What about when you are out running? Speaking of that, a man like you doesn’t need to be running so much. You’ve got muscles on muscles, how many more do you want? Not that me or any of the other women on the street are complaining.” She winked and looked me up and down.

  Were we really having this conversation on the sidewalk? Not only was I dealing with a dead body and Sasha Hamilton getting my attention, but now I was dealing with a neighbor who thought she was the Queen of neighborhood watch even though she had a cop living next door?

  “Get inside, Gigi. I’ll have a look around.”

  “Why do you run so much?” she fired back.

  My response was instant. “Because I have to work off the cakes you make me. If I don’t, I’ll get a belly. Do you really want to be the cause of that?”

  She hooted. “Lord no. I wouldn’t enjoy watching you mow my lawn as much as I do if you lost your six-pack, although if you ask me it’s more like an eight-pack.”

  Fuck me.

  I was desperate to get inside to shower, have something to eat, and try to attempt to get some shuteye, but now Gigi was looking at me like she had something life altering to discuss, so I waited for impact. What I learned early on was that anything and everything could fire out of her mouth, so I never tried to work out what it could be. I just had to brace.

  “I worry about you in that big house on your own,” she said softly, her hand dropping to my arm.

  Shit, here it comes.

  I swear one of her favorite pastimes was focusing her attention on me living alone and not having a woman in my life. She loved pressing the point. Fuck, she was worse than my mother when it came to me settling down. She didn’t hold back her opinion, and she’d even researched dating websites and proudly told me about a site where people could go if they wanted to find someone to fuck, or as she put it, wanted to have intercourse. It had been at least two weeks since we’d had a find Mrs. Ben Hunt discussion, so she obviously realized that we were long overdue. I fucked when I wanted to fuck, I just didn’t bring women back to my house.

  “A man like you needs a good woman to come home to. A man of the law, I might add. You are out there protecting the community, putting your life on the line, being a good citizen, and you work too much. You need to stop with the random intercourse and get some stability in your bed. Imagine coming home to a woman after those long hours. A warm womanly body in that big bed of yours.”

  I gave her what I knew would work because I really was not in the mood to start having a talk about my sex life. “Who needs a woman when I’ve got you living next door? You look after me and bake me cakes every week. Who could possibly live up to that? You’ve ruined me for all women, Gigi.”

  She started fanning her face dramatically. “Benjamin, shush, you’ll make a lady blush.”

  “I’m going to try and get some sleep. Stop doing neighborhood watch and call me instead.” I kissed her cheek and started heading up the path.

  She followed my lead and made her way to her house. Clearly, neighborhood watch was over for the day. I pushed the key in the door, and before I entered my house, I made sure she did the same thing. Before she disappeared, I called her name and she looked over. “The double chocolate cake you made last week,” I said with a smirk. “It was fucking delicious.”

  The last thing I heard her say as I stepped through the door was “That mouth of yours will get you in trouble, Benjamin.”

  I walked through my house chuckling.

  I woke up with a start and groaned as my neck throbbed in pain after sleeping awkwardly on my couch. Stretching, I turned and looked out front, and through the floor-to-ceiling windows that covered the front of my house, I saw and heard evidence that the day had started for some of my neighbors. The clock on the microwave told me I’d been asleep for barely an hour.

  Fuck.

  I woke up with only one thing on my mind.

  Sasha Hamilton.

  Fuck me, she was something else.

  Intriguing, frustrating, and enthralling, all rolled into one. I knew Sasha Hamilton on paper, but I had no clue about the woman who chewed her lip, whose green eyes twinkled when she received a compliment, and who could spit enough sass to destroy the strongest man. That woman was a mystery, and the more I experienced her, the more my determination grew to be the man to unravel it.

  While my body and head screamed at me for more sleep, I knew it was a lost cause. I rose from the couch, strolled through my house and headed to the kitchen. Opening the fridge, I tagged a bottle of juice, unscrewed it, and drank straight from the bottle. Fuck, it was going to be a long day. I put the bottle back in the fridge, then patted my back pocket, looking for my cell.

  I pulled it out, went into my messages, pulled up Carson Reeve’s details, and tapped out a quick text.

  BEN: She good?

  CARSON: She’s good. Locked up tight.

  BEN: Thanks.

  REEVES: You buy the beers next time.

  I threw my phone on the couch, stood with my arms folded across my bare chest, and looked absentmindedly outside. My mind jumped between the case I’d been working on for six months, and Sasha. It had the ability to turn into a clusterfuck if I wasn’t careful. There was no need for me to take her to the break in. I already had enough on my desk to work on, but there I was offering to take her and getting involved.

  Those green fucking eyes.

  Kryptonite.

  Fuck it.

  I grabbed my phone and jammed it in my pocket, then threw on a shirt and headed for the door.

  It was closing in on eight a.m.

  She’d be asleep.

  But, I needed to see she was good for myself.

  What the fuck was I doing?

  9

  SASHA

  I woke with a start.

  What the hell was that banging noise?

  Sun streamed through my bedroom window, blinding me with light and causing me to squint in protest. My head screamed with a ferocious ache brought on by late-night tears, an excruciating trip down memory lane, and barely two hours of sleep. I felt like I was hungover, but without the fun-filled yet blurry memories of an awesome night. I stretched in bed and looked at the clock on my nightstand.

  Eight forty five.

  On any other day, I’d jump out of bed, curse, and insult my phone alarm for failing me. I’d rush around my room, darting into the bathroom to attempt to put on my face and get my hair under some kind of control, before dressing in something that resembled my normal attire. I had a reputation for dressing a certain way when I was at Sass—skirts, high heels, cute tops, blingy accessories, and that kind of thing. So, there was no way I could go to work wearing sweatpants and flip-flops with my hair in my fave topknot.

  Today though, I had nowhere to be.

  For the first time since I opened the doors, I chose to close Sass for the day. It didn’t sit well with me. Sass was my safe place, but right now I wanted to be anywhere but there.

  The banging continued downstairs, and my confusion deepened as fear started creeping in. After last night I was on edge, and banging in my house was not something I welcomed. I quickly pulled on my lilac silk robe and tiptoed to the stairs. I didn’t even bring my phone or have any form of weapon, and I was wearing a barely-there nightie, which my robe didn’t cover at all. God, I was the worst damsel in distress ever.

  “She’d sle
ep through an earthquake.”

  I froze on the top step.

  “Nothin’ budges her.”

  What the hell?

  I took the stairs two at a time after hearing Crazy John’s declarations and his gruff laugh afterward. I’d given him a key years ago, but he’d never used it . . . until now. He’d decided that today would be the day to come in and start banging around before nine a.m. with god only knows who. Maybe he really was crazy.

  When I stepped into the living room, totally confused and still in the haze of waking up, his eyes flashed to mine and a grin spread over his face. What the hell was happening?

  “Jesus, Sassy, we didn’t think anything was going to wake you.”

  Who the hell was we?

  As I opened my mouth to ask him the question, my body became alert, my heart rate increased, and I felt it.

  That feeling.

  “Mornin’, sweetheart.”

  No! No! No!

  There was no freaking way I was hearing that seductive voice behind me. I had to be dreaming. That’s what this had to be. I was deep asleep, surrounded by way too many pillows, snuggled into my blankets, and I was in the middle of an extremely real dream. There was no way Crazy John would be in my house this early. There was no reason for him to be here. And there was absolutely no reason Ben freaking Hunt would be standing in my living room and calling me sweetheart in a tone that sent shockwaves through my body that came to rest between my thighs. I smiled at the pleasant dream I was having. I could dream about what his voice did to my lady parts, and maybe even in my dream I could act on them, because in reality he already had two women, but in dreamland he could be all mine to play with.

  “Fuck, Sassy, you sleep walkin’, or you lost your ability to speak?” Crazy John said in my dream. “Also, what the fuck are you wearing? I keep tellin’ her she needs to cover up, but even when she’s sleepin’ she’s showing herself off.”

  I chuckled.

  Geez, my dream was real. I swear I could smell fresh coffee.

  “I’m thinkin’ she looks really good.”

  There was pure seduction again.

  And there was the tingle between my thighs yet again.

  But this time I felt something crawling up my spine.

  Awareness.

  Oh, shit balls!

  I was hurled out of my dream world at a rapid speed and crashed head first into reality. My gaze darted from Crazy John, who was still grinning huge, to Ben who was smirking.

  What the hell was happening?

  “Someone needs to tell me what the hell is going on and why you two are in my house?”

  “Ahh, she’s alive!” Crazy John hooted, before narrowing his eyes at me. “We need to have words.”

  Oh boy.

  “Coffee first.”

  The coffee I thought I was dreaming of was currently brewing in my kitchen.

  “You started coffee?” I asked, looking at Crazy John who stood just outside the kitchen and watched me closely.

  “Nope.”

  My gaze swung to Ben. “You?”

  He smirked and shot me a chin lift.

  God damn it.

  I busied myself in the kitchen and tried desperately to ignore the feeling of Ben’s eyes burning into my back. I needed to get a grip, and I needed to know why he was in my house before nine a.m. Straightening my shoulders, I took a deep breath, silently counted to five, and turned to him.

  “Can I speak to you? Privately?”

  I didn’t wait for him to answer. I strutted with attitude and sway in my hips through my house as I slipped on my Miss Confident mask. I had a feeling I’d need everything I could muster to go head to head with Ben.

  I walked outside, leaving the door open for him to follow, and stopped when I reached the railing on my small yet cute back deck. The chilled morning air hit my legs and wrapped itself around my bare skin as I looked out at the mountains and waited.

  The feeling of his eyes on me was the first indication Ben had joined me. His intoxicating scent was the second. Turning slightly, I took him in as he took in the view. His jaw was tight and his eyes glazed over due to tiredness. I imagined I looked exactly the same. He’d left my place after three a.m. and he told Austin he was going back to the station. Had he slept?

  “Did you go home and sleep?”

  He turned and met my concerned gaze. “I crashed for an hour.”

  “You need to sleep.”

  “One day.”

  He turned fully toward me, leaned back against the railing, and crossed his arms over his broad chest. The black t-shirt he wore was pulled tight, and the ridges of his chest were not hidden. He may as well be standing here shirtless. Actually, no, that would not be good.

  I shook off all thoughts of a shirtless Ben standing on my back deck and stared back at him. “Can you tell me what you are doing at my house this early? Actually, why you are here at all? Is this another service offered by the Monroe Police Department?” And just like that, the attitude came out and I put another layer of bricks on my wall.

  His lips twitched. “Here to change your locks. And I’m doing it on my own time. This has got nothing to do with the PD.”

  I stared at him in disbelief.

  At some stage my heart began to pound.

  “Told you last night your locks were shit.”

  I continued to stare at him.

  At this stage I had concerns about the excessive thumping of my heart and long-term damage.

  “I ran into John when I was getting coffee. He asked if I’d cracked you yet, and I told him I was still working on it. Now we’re here to change your locks.”

  My mouth opened and shut as I tried to put together two words to say. My brain was stuck on the fact he was trying to crack me.

  Why was he doing this? Yeah, I could understand why Crazy John would have concerns about my safety, but this man had no reason. I was a stranger to him, just as he was a stranger to me. My gaze darted to the kitchen where Crazy John was leaning against the counter, a cup of coffee lifted to his lips and his attention zoned in on the morning news playing on the TV. As if he knew I was looking at him, he turned and our eyes connected. Frustration gazed back at me, and it confused the hell out of me. Slowly, he shook his head at me, dismissing me, before looking back at the television. My stomach sank. Crazy John was one person I never wanted to dismiss me.

  I’d deal with whatever was going on with him after I dealt with Ben. Firstly, I needed to lay it out for him and give him some home truths. Secondly, I needed him to get out of my house. Thirdly, I needed to call a locksmith for not just my house but also Sass.

  Come on, Sasha, you can do this, I chanted silently to myself. I had it all planned out in my head how I’d tell him to back off. More importantly, I would tell him I had no desire to be another woman in his harem. Seriously, how many women could one man have? That question wasn’t the best to ask myself, because my mind went straight to the gutter and I began imagining the stamina a man like him would have. Shut up, brain! I cursed myself. Although I knew what I wanted to say and had planned it out to the last word, what eventually came out of my mouth was nothing like I’d planned.

  “I’m not a fan of orgies.”

  Yep, that’s what I led the conversation with.

  The side of his lip curled up and his eyes flashed with amusement while I began dying of embarrassment. Seriously, where the hell had confident Sasha disappeared to? Sassy Sasha? Attitude-to-the-max Sasha? Anyone other than this Sasha presenting herself would be better right now.

  “If I had you, sweetheart, I would not share. So, I’ve gotta say, I’m happy as fuck that you aren’t a fan. That means there’s a lot less ass I’ve got to kick.”

  “What? No!” I sighed in frustration. “That’s not what I meant.”

  “You are a fan of orgies?” He gave me the once over, his eyes travelling over every inch of my body, sending a shock to my core. Seriously, he needed to stop doing that. “Nope, I still wouldn’t share
you.”

  I shook my head and took a deep breath, desperate to try again. More than ever I needed to get my point across and get him out of my house. At the rate I was going, I was seconds away from blabbing that I’d considered in great detail what he’d be like to add to my one-night-stand, no-attachment list . . . if he was single.

  “Ben, listen to me. I am not a fan of orgies, I am not a fan of swinging, and I am definitely not a fan of having men in my house that should not be here. I am not a home wrecker. Well, in your case a house wrecker, so I would appreciate if you stopped with all the looks and things you’ve been saying to me. Oh, and definitely all these favors. How am I meant to pay you back when you’ve got women in your life? Seriously . . . do I look like a mistress?”

  I sucked in a deep breath to calm myself down after my epic rant.

  Confusion swam over his face before my ramblings began making sense. He threw his head back and gave me the gift of witnessing him laugh again. Although, I didn’t think what I’d said was that funny.

  He regained control, and his eyes found mine. He took two steps toward me, breaking the distance I had put between us. I couldn’t find the ability to move, so there was barely an inch left between us.

  “The woman I was with in your store was my sister, Dee. She’s wanted to decorate my place since I bought it, so she jumped at the chance to drag me in there.” He gave me a second to let it sink in. “The woman I was with at Missy’s is someone who doesn’t understand the difference between a casual fuck and a relationship, and she sure as hell had no right to try and claim me like she did.”

  Well, crap.

  “And, seeing as you brought it up, I’ve got to tell you that it was sexy as fuck when you called me out at Missy’s.”

  My cheeks tinted, and heat crept down my neck. He still stood way too close, but now I wanted him to move for a totally different reason. Now he was a single, way-too-attractive man who seemed to be everywhere I was these days. He was the world’s sexiest stalker.

  “Well, at that stage I thought you were spoken for. I don’t look kindly on cheaters and players, and Blondie was claiming you pretty hard. I thought she was going to scratch my eyes out.”