Brothers in Blue: Matt

by Jeanne St. James

  “I don’t have a problem. I’m out here doing my job.”

  “You could be a little friendlier.”

  “I don’t need to be friendly to do my job. I just need to be good at it.”

  She studied him for a moment as if trying to see deep into his soul. She wouldn’t find much. It was empty.

  “Are you always an asshole?”

  He gave her an exaggerated smile. “Yes.”

  “Good to know.”

  He moved over to the open driver’s door and inspected the deflated airbag. How the hell did she manage to get that goose egg on her noggin when her airbag deployed properly?

  Ah. She hadn’t been wearing her seat belt. Naughty, naughty doctor.

  “Where’s the deer?” he shouted toward the back of the SUV while staring at the front-end damage.

  “I don’t know.” Her soft voice near his ear made him jump.

  Jesus. You never, ever sneak up on combat vets. Ever.

  “There was a deer, right?” he asked quickly to cover up his nerves.

  “Yes, Officer Bryson. There was definitely a deer. It had four legs, brown hair, and a fluffy white tail.”

  With a shake of his head, he left her where she stood and went back to the cruiser. After grabbing his shotgun and a bottle of water, he returned to where she propped herself against the vehicle, and handed her the still half-frozen bottled water. “Here. For your bump.”

  She looked at it for a moment before reluctantly accepting it. “Thanks.” She pressed it gingerly against the lump on her forehead. “Is the shotgun for what I think it’s for?”

  “Yep. You have any idea where the deer went?”

  “No.” She sighed. “It couldn’t have gone far. Hopefully he’s not suffering.”

  “That’s what the shotgun is for.”

  “You just said that.”

  So he did. Matt shrugged and moved over to the tall grass at the side of the road. Scanning the berm, he searched along the edge of the woods to see if he could spot the four-legged victim.

  He noticed a patch of brown in the weeds a few yards ahead and approached the fallen animal carefully. An injured buck was no joke, especially if he sported a rack.

  When he finally stood over the deer, he realized all life had left it. Hopefully, the animal didn’t suffer too long. He’d have county dispatch call the game warden, though he doubted the meat remained any good. Unless it could be used for hamburger.

  He sighed, relieved he didn’t have to shoot his weapon. In fact, since he’d been back, he stopped hunting all together with his brothers. He no longer found pleasure in killing things.

  Even if it supplied food for the table.

  He carried his shotgun back to the patrol car and then grabbed his metal clipboard to start his crash report. The doctor had moved back to the rear of the most-likely totaled SUV and sat in the back of the open hatch.

  “I’ll need your license, registration, and insurance card.”

  She nodded slightly. “They’re in the car.”

  “You know what? Don’t move. I’ll get it. Tell me where they’re at.”

  She looked surprised at his being helpful. “Wallet on the passenger seat. Insurance and registration in the glove box.”

  He grabbed what he needed and returned to her, handing her a large turquoise vinyl wallet. “You sure have a thing for that color.”

  “It reminds me of the Caribbean.”

  He could imagine her in a turquoise bikini on the beach, those long legs baking in the sun to a golden brown. He cleared his throat. “You like it there.”

  “I’ve never been there. One day. It’s on my bucket list.” She eyeballed him. “You’ve been?”

  Right. “Nope. I don’t like sand.”

  “It’s more than just sand.”

  He lifted a shoulder. “Don’t care. I’ve had enough sun and sand for a long time.”

  “Where?”

  Matt ignored her question because he already said more than he should, and instead, jotted down the information from her cards. She dug out her license and handed it to him.

  Her warm hand brushed his. He quickly took the little plastic card from her long, graceful fingers. He couldn’t help but notice her nails were short and neat. No-nonsense.

  And not a ring on any finger.

  Not that he cared. Much to his mother’s dismay, he wasn’t looking for permanent anytime soon. Hell, he wasn’t even looking for a roll in the hay. His fist had been a dependable companion for a long time and just happened to be convenient. Very convenient.

  He glanced at the blonde in front of him. He might have to rethink his current love life with his hand.

  He read her license. Carly Stephens. He was right about her height. Five-eight. As he scribbled down her address, he hesitated. “Is this your current address?”

  “Yes.”

  Holy hell. The address belonged to a well-known boarding house outside of town. And not well-known in a good way. The place had a reputation for being a dump and a frequent flyer when it came to police incidents. Why the hell would a doctor live in that hovel?

  “How long have you been living there?”

  She squinted. “Do you need that for the report?”

  “Nope. Just curious.”

  She sighed, still holding the water bottle to her head. “Too long.”

  “One night is too long in that place.”

  She didn’t answer him. He peeked at her and found her frowning as she gazed at the ground. Suddenly she looked up and caught him staring.

  “Have you seen the baby yet?”

  She was trying to change the subject. He dropped his gaze back to his report. “No.”

  “Aren’t you excited to have a niece?”

  “No.”

  “Really.”

  It wasn’t a question. And he wasn’t going to respond even if it was. Let her think what she wanted. Once he gathered all the info and the flat bed arrived, most likely he’d never run into her again. He certainly didn’t hang out in the maternity ward at the hospital.

  Especially since he wasn’t having any kids. Ever.

  Just then the rollback arrived, its amber overhead lights rotating. The truck pulled in front of her SUV and the driver got out.

  He shouted a greeting to the guy and headed over to give him some basic information, then, once he caught him up to speed, asked, “Can you handle it from here?”

  “Yup,” the driver said before spitting a wad of chew on the ground.

  With a frown, Matt jumped back to avoid the brown splatter. “Good,” he said, turning on his heels to put some distance between them before he smacked the guy upside his head.

  As Matt headed back to Doctor Carly Stephens, the tow truck operator yelled out, “Does she need a ride?”

  Carly lifted her head. “Yes.”

  Matt raised his palm and told him, “No. I got it handled.” He grabbed the doctor by the elbow. “C’mon. I’ll take you home.” And he firmly escorted her to the passenger side of the cruiser.

  “Why are you being nice now?” She looked at him with suspicion.

  “I’m not. It’s just an illusion.”

  She made a noise, but climbed into the car, and he ran around to the other side. Within minutes, he pulled away from the scene.

  “You’re going the wrong direction,” she stated, the bottle still pressed to her injured forehead.

  “I know.”

  “Are you kidnapping me?”

  He snorted. “Yes. While I’m in uniform and a marked car.”

  “I need to go home and go to sleep.”

  “Not if you have a concussion. Do you have any family around here?”

  He already guessed the answer. Anyone who had any loving family would not let her live in that boarding house.

  She didn’t answer.

  “I didn’t think so,” he said with a nod.

  She sighed. “Are you taking me back to the hospital?”

  “No.”

&nbs
p; “Then where the fuck are you taking me?”

  The low, demanding question lacked any sense of panic. It was a question from someone who normally took control and wanted answers.

  His cock stirred. The commanding tone of her voice could bring him to his knees very easily. An image of him being down on his knees while she stood over him popped into his mind. He gripped the steering wheel harder to fight the shudder threatening to run through him.

  Jesus.

  She dug into the neckline of her baggy shirt and pulled a cellphone out of what he assumed was her bra. She pushed the power button and the screen lit up.

  “What are you going to do, call the police?” he asked, not bothering to disguise the irony in voice.

  She scowled at him. He ignored her and kept his eyes on the road. Her phone screen went dark again. She stared at it for a second, then glanced back at him. “Tell me where you’re taking me.” The way she worded it cemented the fact that the woman liked to be in control.

  “Somewhere safe.”

  “And where is that, Officer Bryson?”

  “You said you have no family nearby, correct?”

  “Correct.”

  “How about friends?”

  Once again, silence greeted him. She probably worked too hard to have time to have friends or socialize. Her career most likely consumed her.

  Just like the sandbox had consumed him.

  “I thought so. You might have a concussion. You can’t sleep. Someone needs to observe you.”

  “So you decided that you’re up for the job.” Not a question.

  He took a quick glance at her. She faced straight ahead, clearly annoyed that he was making decisions for her. “No. Not me.”

  “Then who.” Again, not a question, but a demand.

  A muscle ticked in his jaw as he turned right off the main road onto a stone lane.

  “Why are we at a tree farm?” She twisted in her seat to finish reading the sign by the road. “Wait. That’s says Bryson’s Tree Farm. Is this your place?”

  “No.”

  “I need an explanation,” she insisted as she returned to face him.

  “You’ll get it and I will only say it once.”

  “I’m listening,” she said, impatiently.

  He pulled up to the farm house and parked. “Let’s go.”

  “Fine, Chatty Cathy. Let’s go. I can’t wait to hear this.” She got out of the car and stood glaring at him, hands on her hips.

  Now he could see some of her curves. And they were just right. Full. The perfect topping for her long-ass legs.

  He grabbed her elbow to escort her up onto the wrap-around deck and into the house. The door wasn’t locked. And never was.

  They stood just inside the door when he yelled out, “Ma! Pop!”

  His mother’s head peered out from the kitchen, and his father yelled out, “In here!”

  Matt pushed Carly forward through the entrance to the living room where his father slouched in his favorite worn recliner.

  “Who’s this? Boy, that’s some knot you have on your head, young lady,” his father stated, slamming the recliner closed and standing up to approach Carly. “Damn. That had to hurt.”

  “Dr. Stephens!” Mary Ann called out as she entered the room. “How are you? What are you doing here?”

  “Oh, I thought you looked familiar. You just delivered our first grandbaby,” Ron said, a proud smile spreading across his face.

  “Yes. I met you last night at the hospital.”

  “You look terrible, dear,” Matt’s mother clucked. “Come. Have a seat on the couch.” She shooed Matt away and took over like a mother hen. “What happened?”

  “Car versus deer,” Matt stated before the doctor could answer.

  “Oh no!”

  “I have a favor. Can you keep an eye on Dr. Stephens?” he asked his parents. “She may have a concussion and has no one to watch her.”

  “I don’t have a concussion and I don’t need a babysitter,” Carly grumbled.

  “Why certainly, honey,” his mother agreed happily. “She’s welcome to stay here until she’s out of the woods. You caught me just cleaning up from breakfast. Do you need something to eat?”

  “If she has a concussion, she may be nauseous,” Matt warned his mother.

  “I don’t have a concussion,” Carly insisted, her voice raising a notch. “I’m a doctor, I’d know if I had a concussion.”

  “Oh nonsense, Dr. Stephens. Better to be safe than sorry.” Mary Ann stated, waving her hand. “We need to keep you happy and healthy to deliver all our future grandbabies. Right, Matt?”

  Matt groaned under his breath. “Right, Ma. I’m sure Amanda will want more after last night.”

  “Ah, she will. She’ll forget the pain quickly.”

  Matt wasn’t so sure Amanda would forget anything. She didn’t seem the forgiving and forgetting type.

  “And there’s Leah. Marc and her will be married soon and they’ll be making me a proud grandmother too.”

  Matt wondered if Marc knew of their mother’s plans.

  “And then you just need to—”

  “Well, I have to get back on patrol. I left the portable radio in the car.”

  And he rushed out, his father’s booming laughter following him out the door.

  Chapter 3

  Mary Ann looked down at the baby and cooed. “I don’t know what I want her to call me.” She cooed again, making baby faces inches from Hannah’s. “Grandma, Gram, Grammy, Nanny. Nanna. Maw-Maw—”

  “Holy shit, Mom! Just pick one,” Max snapped.

  “Don’t you curse in front of the baby!” Mary Ann scolded him.

  “Mom, right now Hannah doesn’t care about what you want her to call you. You have time to decide. She doesn’t even know the difference between the words shit and Grandma.”

  Matt almost reversed right back out of the house. He smothered a yawn and rubbed at his eyes. His shift had worn him out since it had been busy with petty nonsense calls. Barking dogs, teenagers mad because their parents grounded them, a kid stealing a soda from Wal-Mart. Stupid shit.

  He moved into the living room where everyone gathered around his mother holding the newborn. “They let you out of the hospital already?” he asked his sister-in-law, surprised. “It’s only been a couple days.”

  Amanda lounged in Ron’s recliner—another surprise since this father allowed no one to sit in his recliner—watching with soft, ooey-gooey eyes Mary Ann holding the baby.

  What the fuck? Max’s wife had to be on some sort of pain meds. No one went from being hell-on-wheels to a sweet, loving woman in just forty-eight hours. Especially Amanda.

  “She had a normal birth. They don’t want you hanging around the hospital taking up space,” came a female voice behind him.

  Matt spun on his heels to face the Dictator Doctor. Why the hell was she still here?

  She pushed past him and went to stand over his mother, reaching down to wiggle the baby’s tiny, pink fist and coo. Cooing must be contagious.

  Hell, if he knew the kid would be at the farm, he’d have gone straight home. “I guess you lived through your concussion,” he stated to Carly.

  “I didn’t have a concussion,” she responded, not bothering to even look up at him.

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “Uh huh.”

  Concussion or not, the bump on her head remained only slightly visible, but the bruise looked horrendous. Definitely not an attractive look for her.

  He couldn't deny he found what she wore attractive, though. Denim sheathed those lengthy legs of hers and she sported a worn V-neck T-shirt in a blue color that enhanced her complexion and made him realize how blonde her long hair really was.

  He wondered if the color was natural.

  Did he want to find out?

  No.

  Maybe.

  Damn it.

  “Why are you staring at her like that?” came a low murmur behind him. He turned his head to look at his brother
, Marc.

  “I’m not.”

  Marc chuckled and entered the room, pushing past Matt.

  “You’re next,” Mary Ann said to her middle son and Marc paled.

  Matt took his turn chuckling.

  He finally gave up his position by the door and joined his family. He moved behind Amanda, putting his hands on her shoulders and leaning in. “So how’s the demon spawn?”

  She laughed, her eyes crinkling, and glanced over at her kid. “Perfectly healthy. And has all ten fingers and toes and, surprisingly, not one cleft hoof.”

  “Well, that’s a good start.”

  “Thanks for getting me to the hospital.”

  “What else was I gonna do? Deliver the kid myself?”

  Carly snorted from across the room. He had no clue why the woman remained at his parents’ house.

  “And why are you here?” he asked her.

  His mother gasped, quickly handed off the baby to Max, and came over to thump him upside the head. “Mind your manners, boy.”

  Matt rubbed his aching ear.

  “Is he always such an asshole?” Carly asked.

  A resounding yes sounded around the room, flanked by Amanda’s laughter.

  “Ever since he’s gotten back from that godforsaken—”

  Matt stiffened and cut his mother off. “Ma! Don’t start. Please.”

  “Fine,” she sniffed. “You have issues.”

  “We all have issues,” Matt told her.

  “If you’d just get married, settle down, and have a family, you’d be fine.”

  His mother’s answer to everything was to provide her with grandchildren. Her ultimate elixir to any problem. He’d told her plenty of times to look at his brothers for children to spoil, not him.

  “Are you staying for dinner?” Pop asked.

  “I was, but you guys are busy. I’ll head out.”

  “You don’t have to, son. You’re welcome to stay.”

  “I know,” he answered.

  His father nodded, knowing how Matt felt around a bunch of people, activity, and noise. In fact, if Max hadn’t been the chief of police, he might have never gotten his job back when he returned from overseas. He might have been put on leave or even let go.

  Matt knew Max took a risk by handing him back his badge and gun. But his family seemed determined to get him back in the swing of things, back to a normal life as soon as possible.