Uncovering Officer Smith (The Discovering Trilogy #2)

by Sheena Hutchinson

  “John Smith.” I nod. “So we meet again?” My tone is mocking when he finally smiles.

  “Becca.”

  I feel my brother’s eyes on me. “You two know each other?” Bedford’s a little uncomfortable, apparently knowing John’s reputation.

  I pat my brother on the back. “That’s the thing about small towns, Beddy.” I lean over and steal a beer sliding from John’s hands before mockingly saluting him and spinning on my heels, heading down the deck stairs to the backyard.

  I tried to avoid interaction the entire night. I made the mistake of texting Meg that John was here, and I’d wished she had come. Just one text brought on an onslaught of them, which I’m still trying to respond to. She asks me more questions than my law school application and above all, she’s trying to convince me to talk to him. I know I want to. I know I should… but it’s going to take a little liquid courage. So, that’s what I’m doing as I sit here in the green and white-checkered lawn chair, staring out at the lake. Games of beer pong are being tossed around behind me, and I’m noticing others taking a long stroll through the foliage beside the lake. I’m watching the couple out on the edge of the dock kissing, when my mind wanders enough to realize the things missing from my life. I have a plan and know what I want. I promised myself I wouldn’t let anyone get in the way of that, but would it kill me to have a good time occasionally? Am I going to become a boring old stiff no one wants to be around? What I would give to have a man look at me—with desire. I’m at a point where even my vibrator has given up on me. Even all my desire and needs went into hibernation mode. Will I ever get it back? Will they make a movie about how I got my groove back? Meggie jokes that I won’t even remember how to do it… maybe she’s right. Maybe I'm a lost cause. I was so hurt, so closed off after my high school boyfriend, that I focused on my schoolwork and it turned out to be a good thing. My grades soared and so did my goals and confidence. Now, schoolwork has become my crutch. I swig another bottle of beer before stumbling out of the chair and calling dibs on the next game of beer pong.

  This party is the most fun I've had since college. I met Bedford when I first learned how to party. Now, he's rocking the big job in the city, while I'm stuck patrolling the streets of this town for a mediocre salary. My attention is lost once I hear shouting coming from below the deck. I lean over the railing to see Becca jumping around with her hands up in the air. Who would have thought she was Bedford’s sister? Talk about a mind fuck. There's something about this girl, something I can’t take my eyes away from. I use the railing to get out of the chair, making my way down the stairs to the beer pong game that seems to be drawing all the remaining partiers’ attention.

  “Just like old times, Rod. Getting your ass kicked by a girl.”

  “I don’t see a girl here,” he mutters, throwing back another cup of beer.

  Becca shoots him the finger before tossing the ball behind her back. It hits the edge of a cup, spinning once before falling in. Cheers erupt around us.

  “What was that?” She tiptoes dramatically over to the other side, placing her hand to her ear. “Huh? I can't hear you?”

  Her opponent is silent to the mocking. She saunters back over to her side and her partner hands her the little white ball. “For the win,” she announces before posting up on the balls of her feet. Her face scrunches up in a focused stare, one eye closed as she bites her bottom lip slightly, setting herself up. Then her arm swings up and with a flick of her wrist, the ball flies into the last remaining red cup on the table.

  “Boo-ya!” she screams. The yard once again erupts and she smacks her partner on the ass in celebration. She starts going around the table handing out high-fives like flyers. I can’t help but notice she hesitates slightly when she stands in front of me. Holding up her hand, I think it trembles before I gently meet it with my own.

  “Don’t worry,” she whispers, leaning in slightly, “I’m not driving.”

  I try to hide the ridiculous smile that’s coming. “Don’t worry, I’m not on duty,” I whisper back.

  She nods before continuing her circle until she gets back to her partner on the other side.

  “Now, who’s the next victim?”

  Hours passed and more people began to trickle out. I’ve definitely had too much to drink. I think I’m sleeping on the couch again, having seen too many accidents to risk driving. Bedford comes stumbling into the room with a full beer this time. “You staying here, Smith?”

  “Looks that way.”

  “Grab a blanket from the closet upstairs. Me and Court are going to play one last game of pong.”

  “Will do.” I head upstairs. It takes me a few tries, and one very awkward encounter, but I find the closet and steal a blanket before heading toward the couch. Rod is already facedown on the short side of the L-shaped sectional. I shake out the blanket, preparing to get comfortable, when I see someone at the edge of the dock, alone. I blink a few times until my eyes make out a shape. It’s her.

  Plastic crunches under my feet as I make my way across the yard. My ears vaguely recognize the ping of a ball hitting the side of a cup because my eyes are focused straight ahead. She’s like a beacon and I’m honing in on my target. The planks of the dock creak under my weight, but she never turns. Her long blonde hair cascades down her back, ending in a slight V, and her white shorts show off how smooth her legs are. Not knowing what else to do, I walk up to the edge beside her. Her arms are folded across her chest and her face never turns to meet mine.

  “You’re still here?” It is a dumb question; obviously, she’s still here. Stupid question.

  “Yeah, I don’t think I should be driving.”

  I nod in acknowledgement, trying to come up with something else to say. My feet shuffle awkwardly, whether from nervous tension or drunk legs, I don’t know. “Where’d you learn those pong skills?”

  A smile, finally. “I’m the younger sister to a legend. You learn things.” She shrugs. “Why didn’t you play?”

  “I didn’t want to get drunk—But I guess that ship has sailed.” I wobble again—Definitely not nerves this time. I lose my balance, arms flailing like a spaz before I fall headfirst into the lake. When I burst through the surface, I hear nothing but laughter.

  “Are you okay?” she asks between giggles.

  “Yeah.” I shake water from my ears. “Come join me.”

  Her face scrunches up into that funny, focused face again before she slips out of her flip-flops and takes a running jump. Her body flies over mine and she drops into the water behind me.

  “Whoa.” She wipes the water from her eyes, treading closer to me. “The water is actually kind of nice.” She pauses. “What?”

  I didn’t realize I was making a face until she said something. “Nothing, I just didn’t think you would do it.”

  “Why? I can have fun. I wasn’t always this stuffy.”

  “I didn’t call you stuffy.”

  “You were thinking it; everyone does.” She looks across the lake.

  “Becca, every time I see you now you’re drunk. I don’t think you are stuffy.”

  She nods. “You’re right—you’re the stuffy one.” She splashes me.

  “Hey, not fair!”

  “Just calling it like I see it, Mr. Stuffy-Pants.” She’s got her feet up on the ladder before I can utter a response. I watch as she climbs up and twists the water out of her hair. The bulge in my pants grows when I glance up from her dripping wet legs to notice her shorts have gone see-through. Her pink panties are all my eyes can focus on, as if it were glow in the dark.

  “I’m so not stuffy,” I call.

  “Prove it.” She turns and heads back down the dock. Holy crap. I scramble to the ladder and slip, trying to get up it fast enough. My shoes slosh down the dock, clothes also heavy with water.

  “Hey, wait up.”

  She glances back once before closing the sliding door behind her. I slip as I run up the deck steps but recover quickly and kick off my shoes before headi
ng in the house. Rod is still facedown on the couch, but Becca is nowhere to be seen. I debate whispering her name as I continue to walk deeper in the house. I hear the floor creak upstairs. I catch sight of light from a door cracked open slightly, and I can’t get up the steps fast enough. I pause before it – something about this should bother me. There is something wrong with this. I don’t have time to think about it because the door opens. Becca has a yellow towel over her shoulders. Her see-through shorts peek out from underneath it. Her eyes are almost crystal clear when she tilts her head to the side.

  “Took you long enough.” With that, she turns and heads back inside. This girl, I think I’ve had her all wrong. I follow her inside. When she turns back around to me, I notice she’s biting her lip. “You’re going to get sick—Do you want some dry clothes?”

  “You have clothes here?”

  “No, but I can dig through the dressers.” She bends over slightly, tossing around things inside the drawers until she finds what she’s looking for. Her nimble fingers shake out the hoodie before she tosses it to me. “See if that fits.”

  I try to meet her gaze again, but her head is turned, looking for something else. Becca pulls out a navy sweatshirt for herself. My eyes can’t seem to look away when she pulls the wet shirt over her shoulders, exposing the back of her baby blue bra. The sweatshirt slips over her head and she wiggles it all the way down over her hips. I don’t know what size it is, but it covers pretty much half her body. Next, her fingers unbutton her shorts and she steps out of them. Unfortunately, I never get to see her pink thong because of that darn hoodie. I don’t realize I’m staring until her head twists to the side.

  I’m totally caught.

  Instead of drawing attention to my lack of discretion, she begins laying out her wet clothes over a chair. Coming back to reality, I rip my wet shirt off and toss it onto a chair in the corner. I slip my arms into the sweatshirt. It’s tight against my biceps, but it seems to fit. She turns at the sound of the zipper sliding down the track. Her blue eyes are a little hazy as they only shoot me a passing glance before she slips into the comforter. I kick off my soaking wet shorts before sitting down on the bed beside her, not really knowing what to expect.

  I’ve done my share of one-night stands, but this somehow feels… different.

  “You know, I’ve heard all these stories about this college legend named Smith, but I never would have guessed they were all about you.”

  “What kind of stories? I’d love to hear all about this legend.”

  She giggles, and that laugh of hers causes a smile to spread on my own face. “Well, I’ve heard about countless football plays. Then there was the girl you made jump out of your window. Oh, and who can forget the pledge that walked the campus stark naked across the hill?”

  I glance past her. “Yeah, those were some good times. And in my defense, I didn’t make that girl jump out the window – I just told her to hide. I wasn’t allowed overnight guests when I was only a pledge. She chose to jump.”

  “Such a gentleman you are.” Her sarcasm only makes her more attractive. There’s nothing sexy about a robot that says what you want to hear.

  My shoulders shrug. “I try.”

  “Well, the infamous Smith, enlighten me with some other stories.”

  Those were the last words I remember her speaking. The rest was me, blabbing on and on, story after story. She listened intently to everything. I don’t think I’ve ever talked this much to any girl. Her eyes are warm and my drunken mouth doesn’t seem to want to stop. I told her guy stuff – like crazy one-night stands and the pube-waxing incident in the frat house. She actually laughed at that one.

  It isn’t until her hazy eyes start to drift, that I notice she hasn’t spoken a word since she asked me that question. “I’m sorry. Am I talking too much? I guess I’m just a chatty drunk.”

  Her eyes perk awake again. “It’s okay. I don’t mind listening.”

  “You’re good at it.”

  “I like to think life is in the details. It’s all about what you know. People fascinate me. I live for crazy stories like yours. Unfortunately, I don’t have very many of my own.”

  “Really?” I don’t know why I sound so surprised. This is little Becky. I knew Bedford came from some money. He was always complaining about his overbearing parents, but he never forgets to mention he had it easy compared to his sister.

  “Yeah, I’m focusing on school right now. I have my whole life to be crazy.”

  “I think you’ve got it all wrong. High school and college are for experimenting and making mistakes. The rest is just icing on the cake.”

  “I guess you’re right.” She begins biting her lip like she’s thinking about something.

  “Hey, don’t worry about it, you’ve still got time.”

  “Not really. I’m already into my junior year.”

  “Right, a year and a half of partying – believe me, that’s all you’re going to need.”

  “Are you all partied out?”

  “I work too much to be out partying, but occasionally I let loose – like today.”

  She looks at me. Her blue eyes lose all traces of sleepiness when she responds, “I want to do something crazy.”

  “Like what?”

  I barely get the words out before her lips are against mine. They are soft and perfect. I open my mouth, welcoming her. Her body slips closer, and her hands fall onto my chest. She’s so close I can feel her heart beat on my shoulder. She tastes slightly like a strawberry Jolly Rancher.

  I pull away, leaning nose-to-nose. I need a few breaths. My eyes flick up to hers. They are closed as she breathes deeply. Suddenly they open, staring into mine. Those eyes are beautiful, as if they hold the entire sky within them; endless as the sea and gleaming like stars. One look silences my thoughts. Her long legs wrap around me, pulling herself on top of me. I place my hands on her tight ass. Her panties only cover about half of it. The lace under my fingers teases me.

  She’s sitting on my lap when her hands cup the sides of my face. I can only watch her lean down, kissing me again. Maybe it’s the liquor, or maybe it’s this girl, but I don't feel like myself. It's like I’m a bystander, watching some stranger being kissed so tenderly by some girl. As if reading my thoughts, the kiss goes from tender, gentle, to deep, and passionate within seconds. Her body moves closer to me, hands tangling at the nape of my neck.

  My hands explore her body. They slip under her sweatshirt. Becca lets out a little gasp against my lips, but she never stops. I don’t want her to. I want this girl right here and right now, more that I’ve ever wanted anyone, ever.

  Slipping my hands out of her shirt, they continue further north.

  My fingers wrap in her long, still damp hair, as her hips begin to move slightly against mine. Then, just as quickly as it starts, she pulls away, biting her lip. I stare at her—Don’t stop now.

  “We need to stop.” Her words echo what I didn’t want to hear.

  “What? Why?”

  She spins off my lap in one swift motion, propping herself on the pillow beside me. “Because I don’t do casual, remember?”

  Something inside me seizes. I just want her lips on mine again. “What if it wasn’t casual?”

  She giggles. “Then you won’t mind waiting until tomorrow, when I’m of sound mind.”

  My eyes scan up to her face. Becca holds my glare, even gives one slightly back to me. Even drunk, this girl is stubborn. I’m not going to get any tonight and a huge piece of me, not just my blue balls, is disappointed.

  A sigh escapes my lips before I finally collapse onto the pillows. “I don’t like you of sound mind.”

  That fantastic giggle comes again. “I don’t like you sober, either.” I turn slightly just to shoot her a look, but she turns, facing the ceiling as well. “You’re a lot more fun when you’re drunk.”

  I hide a smile before my eyes grow heavy and I give in to my drunken stupor.

  The sun makes me turn away from the wind
ow and rub my eyes. Damn, what time is it? I peek my eyes open to see a pile of blonde hair next to me. I’m immediately awake. What happened last night? Did I really just sleep with a girl and not screw her? What the hell is going on with me? I’m about to get up and sneak out when Becca sighs in her sleep. Her blonde eyelashes are soft against her pale cheeks. Her lips are still pouty but not red from all the kissing we did last night. I can’t believe she made me feel passion without even having sex. Connection: isn’t that what she was talking about? Is that what this is? Blonde hair cascades down her neck and swirls all around her breasts. She’s still in the hoodie from last night, long, smooth legs tucked under her as she sleeps. Something inside me aches for her. I need her like I’ve never needed anything in my life. I want to find the idiots that planned to hurt her and kill them with my bare hands, and yet I want to hold her and kiss her pain away. I find myself wanting to know what kind of joke she’ll tell me when she wakes up, or how deep she’ll smile if I bring her coffee just the way she likes it.

  Oh, fuck. I’m in trouble. This is April all over again. I fling my arm over my eyes. This can’t happen. I have to distance myself from her. I need to focus on the case at hand. Once I solve this case, I’m done with her. Done.

  “Morning, Sleeping Beauty!” Bedford prances into his spare bedroom before locking eyes with me. “Smith?”

  I’m immediately on my feet. “It’s not what it looks like.”

  “My… my sister, dude?”

  “No… I…” I sigh. “Nothing happened.”

  “Yeah, like I believe that!”

  “Relax, Beddy. He kept it in his pants,” Becca mutters from the bed behind me.