by Rose, Ranae
Her entire body heated as he drew her closer. “You’re on.”
“Perfect,” he said as he began his last turn, “you fell right into my trap.”
“Trap?”
“I’m a champion Ms. Pac-Man player – a god, practically. I only pretended to suck so you’d agree to my terms. And now, I’m about to have quite the evening, thanks to you.”
“We’ll see,” she said as he narrowly avoided colliding with the orange ghost, only to back into the red one, earning himself a game over. “I hope your busted lip isn’t too sore – that would interfere with the favor I have in mind, and I’d hate to have to take a rain check.”
* * * * *
“Wow. I didn’t expect you to dress up.”
Abby blinked, her eyes glittering gold beneath long, thin stripes of kohl that extended far past the edges of her eyes. “This is my default costume. I keep it in the back of a drawer and break it out every year.” She ran a hand over her sleek black sweater. “Best part is, the only thing I needed to make it into a maternity costume was a new top. My black yoga pants still fit.”
He stepped back, holding the door open for her and taking a look at her yoga-panted rear end. A generous helping of Spandex had the pants clinging to her ass, showcasing every curve. A plush black tail hung right down the middle, obstructing his view and nearly brushing the ground. “What’s in those bags?”
“Candy.” She sat three shopping bags down on the counter and began to empty them. “Do you have a bowl?” Her expression was serious, her eyes questioning above the whiskers she’d painted across her cheeks. The cat ears she wore on a headband – complete with earrings – contrasted with her pale hair.
Sam stifled a grin and adjusted his jeans as inconspicuously as he could, trying to hide the growing hard-on her skin-tight costume had inspired. “It’s on top of the fridge. There’s already candy in it, actually.”
He retrieved the bowl and set it on the counter, where Abby peered into its depths, shook her head and hurried to empty more treats into it. “With the candy I brought, I think we’re more likely to make it through the night. Do you get many trick-or-treaters here?”
He shrugged. “This is the first year since I moved in that I haven’t been working on trick-or-treat day.” It was actually early November, not Halloween, but that was when the city had scheduled official trick-or-treating hours.
“I hope we have enough.” She carried the bowl to the counter nearest the front door and flipped on the porch light before turning her attention to him.
“We still on for that movie?” His gaze was drawn automatically to her curves; she wore all black, but the dark color did little to downplay the swells of her breasts and hips.
“Of course.”
They settled onto the couch together but were only five minutes into the movie when the first knock came at the door.
Sam paused it and followed Abby to the kitchen, where she scooped up the candy bowl.
“Trick or treat!” A group of kids had queued up outside the front door. Judging by their exclamations, the candy Abby had brought was the good stuff.
The kids kept coming, and Abby’s prediction was proven true – they would’ve burned through the single bag of candy he’d bought in no time.
They watched the movie in increments of minutes and seconds, constantly interrupted by knocking and chanting at the door. The evening wasn’t what he’d expected – he’d figured they’d have a movie night together and keep a little candy on hand just in case the occasional kid stopped by. Dealing with all the trick-or-treaters was like working second shift in a candy factory.
Watching Abby glitter and smile at the door, her arms full of the big candy bowl, he couldn’t bring himself to mind the interruptions. Briefly, he thought of his life a year ago, last Halloween, and almost laughed. He’d still been with his ex then, and she never would’ve voluntarily spent an evening handing out candy to kids, and she definitely wouldn’t have put on a costume.
Abby was loving it. She smiled at all the trick-or-treaters and didn’t get mad when some of the wilder ones took an entire handful instead of the two pieces she offered.
“You know,” she said to him after offering candy to a group of miniature pirates, “if you put your uniform on, that would be sort of like a costume.”
“I’m sure those kids would much rather have you answer the door than me.”
She donned an exaggerated frown. “I see how it is – you’re too manly to dress up for Halloween?”
“Not too manly – too old.”
She play-hit him on the biceps. “You’re barely a year older than me. What are you saying?”
“That you look way better in a costume than I could ever hope to.”
“Maybe in a costume,” she said, arching a brow, “but not in a uniform.”
“I guess if you really want me to, I could put on my uniform later, after the kids are off the streets.” No way was he putting it on for Halloween. For her, though…
She grinned.
He’d do anything that might inspire her to peel off her spandex-y cat costume. For that matter, he’d do anything to keep that smile on her face.
“Deal. But you have to help me hand out the candy.”
He helped her until half past seven, when official trick-or-treating hours ended. After locking the door and switching off the porch light, they settled back onto the couch. As Sam turned the half-finished movie back on, she leaned against him.
Her heat radiated through her stretchy sweater and pants, and one of her cat ears tickled his chin. He reached below, brushed aside the velvety tail she’d attached to her pants and squeezed one half of her ass just like he’d dreamed of doing when trick-or-treaters had been mobbing the house.
She leaned more heavily on him, resting one hand on his thigh.
His cock throbbed as he pressed his other hand against her body, cupping one of her breasts and palming it through her sweater, already fully hard.
A knock at the door came just as he found her nipple and rubbed it lightly, his mouth watering as he felt the stiff bud hidden by clothing.
“Trick or treat!” A faint cry came from beyond the front door.
He groaned. “Stragglers.”
Abby pulled her hand from his lap, and his dick twitched in protest.
“Be right back,” she promised, hopping up as lightly as a cat might have. He didn’t try to stop her, especially since she seemed to be feeling better than usual.
He followed her to the kitchen, lurking behind a counter, where his erection was hidden.
“Don’t think I forgot,” she said when she’d closed and re-locked the door. “You said you’d put on your uniform.”
He went to his bedroom closet and pulled out the uniform he’d ironed for his next shift. When he was dressed, he found Abby in the living room. “Well?”
He’d put on everything but his duty belt.
“You look great. I don’t know why you wouldn’t put it on earlier.” She came to him, wrapping her arms around his waist.
His cock pressed against her belly, growing even harder as her embrace created friction between them. Other reasons aside, putting on his uniform earlier wouldn’t have been fair to the kids. If she’d come onto him like this then, he would’ve had to lock the door and carry her back to the bedroom.
He did that now, lifting her carefully and refusing to let go until they reached the bed.
She was still smiling as she peeled off her sweater and pants, revealing lacy black lingerie underneath.
His dick throbbed at the sight of her nipples pressing against the dark mesh swirled with a floral pattern, the scalloped edges of her bra cups low enough to tease with a generous view of cleavage. “You forgot your ears,” he said, reaching for them and caressing the tip of one soft black triangle. “I don’t mind if you want to leave them on, though.”
She laughed and readjusted the headband, but didn’t remove it. “With this make-up on, it’d look stupid i
f I took the ears off.”
Reaching for him, she gripped him by the belt, tucking her fingertips into the front of his pants. “I’ll be glad to help you take off your uniform, though.”
He sank onto the edge of the bed, holding her by the hips and tucking his thumbs into the sides of her panties as she gripped his belt tighter. Heat spread through his groin as he anticipated her unbuckling it and touching the hard shaft of his cock.
For a second, the only sounds were of breathing – his and hers – and then harsh noise shattered the near-quiet.
The sound of breaking glass echoed in Sam’s ears.
Abby froze. “What was that?”
CHAPTER 6
Sam was already on his feet. “Window, probably.” He grabbed his duty belt from on top of his dresser and slung it around his hips. “Abby, go to the bathroom and stay there until I come for you – now.”
There was no window there, and nobody would be able to get to her without going through him first.
She listened, hurrying wide-eyed down the hall in her panties and bra.
He made his way to the kitchen, weapon drawn, just in case.
The break had happened in the living room. Broken glass glittered beneath the windowsill, spread across the carpet, some fragments lying sharp and shining on the couch. A large rock lay in the middle of the room.
Sam’s gut clenched as anger heated him from the inside out. What if Abby had still been sitting on the couch, or standing in the room, for that matter?
He proceeded outside, through the front door, ready to confront whoever had thrown the rock.
There was no sign of anyone. He checked and double checked every square foot of his small yard until he was sure whoever had broken the window had left the area.
Inside, he re-locked the door and made a call. Knowing some of his fellow officers were on their way to file an official report, he retreated to the bathroom, his blood still several degrees hotter than usual.
“What happened?” Abby asked as soon as he opened the door.
“Someone threw a rock through the living room window.”
“Who?”
He shook his head. “Whoever did it is gone. A couple officers are on their way now. Maybe it was a kid who thought it’d be funny to play a Halloween prank.” Maybe. Or maybe not. His ire rose as he tried to imagine who’d shattered his window – not knowing was like having a splinter he just couldn’t work free.
She nodded, her eyes still a little wider than usual. “See, you should’ve put on your uniform earlier. If those kids had seen that you’re a police officer, I bet they would’ve been too scared to throw anything at the house.”
He frowned.
“You don’t think it was a kid?” she asked, sitting down on the edge of the bathtub.
“I don’t know. I wish I did.”
“You don’t think it was some criminal who’s figured out where you live, do you – someone you’ve had a run-in with at work?” All traces of teasing were gone from her voice.
“I hope not. Just to be safe, after we file a report, I’m going to take you home. Don’t stand too close to any windows until then.”
When a knock came at the front door, Abby crossed her arms over her chest and hurried in the direction of the bedroom. “I’m going to get dressed.”
He went straight to the door, where two officers waited.
“Mackenzie,” said Vierra, the older one, “what are you doing in uniform?”
The back of Sam’s neck heated instantly. Shit. He’d forgotten he was still wearing it – or rather, he’d forgotten that he wasn’t supposed to be wearing it.
The soft sound of Abby’s footsteps announced that she’d entered the kitchen behind him, no doubt dressed in her cat costume.
Vierra’s expression transformed into a mile-wide smirk, and his partner’s was nearly identical. “So, what happened here tonight?”
* * * * *
“Mackenzie, you coming to Lieberson’s birthday thing next Saturday?”
Something clicked inside Sam’s head, bringing back a memory from weeks ago. He’d totally forgotten that a bunch of officers were planning to get together for dinner and drinks to celebrate Lieberson’s fortieth.
“His wife says she needs a headcount so she can make the reservation,” Cohen said, closing the door to his cruiser and standing with his boots planted on the asphalt outside the police station.
“Yeah.” Sam nodded. “I’ll be there. You going?”
“Yeah. You bringing anyone – your girlfriend?”
“I’ll have to ask her if she’s working.”
“Isn’t she a secretary or something – she even work weekends, ever?”
Realization rippled over the surface of Sam’s mind, inciting a spark of reality not unlike an electric shock. “I’m not with Trish anymore.” No one from work had met Abby yet – no one knew. Damn, did they really think he was still with Trish? The thought made his skin crawl. Being with her had been rough; now that he was with someone he was actually happy with, the memory was repellant.
“Oh, shit. Nobody told me. You just break up or something?”
He’d mentioned his break-up with Trish to a couple guys – that seemed ages ago, now. It was surprising that everyone didn’t know by now, really. “No, we split up months ago.” Maybe his fellow officers disliked talking about his ex as much as he did.
He hadn’t told anyone exactly how or why things had ended between him and Trish – the thought of admitting what had happened filled him with a boiling sort of shame, and the absoluteness of her betrayal still stung. He was beyond caring about her, but the months-old scar of what she’d done still twinged, sometimes.
“And you’ve got a new girl now?”
A wave of heat and pride struck Sam somewhere in his chest, dispelling any thoughts of his ex. “Yeah. You’ll like her.”
Cohen’s expression remained neutral, and a few seconds of silence ticked by. He was probably remembering how rude Trish had been on the few occasions Sam had brought her to anything with his co-workers.
“Really,” Sam said, ashamed that Trish’s bitchiness might cast a shadow on Cohen’s imaginings of Abby. “She’s great. I’ll see if she can make it next Saturday.”
Cohen nodded. “I’ll tell Lieberson to put you down for two.”
Sam nodded too, his consciousness still prickling with the pleasure thoughts of Abby brought. He didn’t say anything about her pregnancy, about how she wasn’t just a new girlfriend, but a woman he was building a life and a family with – everyone would see next Saturday.
* * * * *
Weeks had passed since Abby had shared her pregnancy news with Jed and the rest of the Hot Ink staff, and she still wasn’t any less on edge about how her impending motherhood would change things between her and her co-workers. She’d told Jed after her deli dinner with Zoe, and everyone else soon after. The entire staff had been nothing but kind and congratulatory. In a way, that made her even more uneasy.
She’d already had several inquiries from clients about spring appointments, around the time of her due date, and had had to turn them down. Hot Ink was a busy place, and it was aggravating to not only have to disappoint her clients, but to know that the shop would be missing out on revenue with every request she denied. It didn’t seem right that such an in-demand studio should have an empty chair.
“Hey, Mina.” Abby exited her booth and approached the counter, where Mina was kneeling in front of a few drawers, digging inside one for something. “When you get a chance, could you bring up my schedule and tell me what I’ve got booked for next Saturday?”
Mina stood, a sheet of paper in hand, and reached for the laptop that rested on top of a glass display case. “Sure. Is everything all right?”
Abby winced inwardly. Even though she was only in the second trimester, sometimes it felt like everyone was walking on eggshells, waiting for her to pop. “Everything’s fine. Sam mentioned wanting to do something that day, if I was free.
I know I’ve got some mid-day appointments, but I thought that if my evening was open, we might go out.”
“You’re in luck,” Mina said after a few moments. “Your last appointment is at two thirty.”
“Thanks.” Abby leaned forward, taking a hasty step back when her belly bumped the counter. “What’s that?”
“This?” Mina waved the sheet of paper, simultaneously reaching for a roll of tape.
Abby nodded.
“Just a little flyer. We’re getting a guest artist in a couple months. Danny Sorrento.”
“From Boston?” A little light bulb went off above Abby’s head. “I’ve seen his work. He’s coming here?”
“Yeah. He and Jed met at a tattoo convention a couple years ago, I think. He’s doing a tour this winter and will be tattooing here for two days.”
“Wow. Cool.”
Mina smiled. “I just put the notice up on the website this morning. We’ve already had several calls.”
“I can imagine.” There was a reason Abby knew Danny Sorrento’s name – his work was amazing.
With a last glance at the flyer, she drifted back to her half-booth, her mind whirling with possibilities. What if Hot Ink didn’t have to have an empty chair every day while she was on maternity leave – what if she could arrange for some other reputable artists to visit as guests while she was gone? If she could pull it off, Hot Ink wouldn’t have to bear the financial burden of her absence. It wouldn’t help with her own lack of income, but at least she wouldn’t feel guilty about passing money troubles on to her co-workers.
* * * * *
Sitting in front of a stop sign in his cruiser with the November sun shining down on one arm was about as boring as police work got. The sign, located near a busy mall and several shopping centers, was notoriously ignored by the consumers that poured in and out of the area. The drivers who sped through without stopping – or often, even slowing at all – couldn’t see his car until they were already past it, and the deed was done.
