Hot Cop: A Brother's Best Friend Romance

by Natasha L. Black

  The same could not be said for my interview with Laura Vance. I tried my damnedest to pay attention, to check off the questions I had set forth for all the applicants. But the minute I laid eyes on her, I was screwed. Her strawberry blonde hair had grown darker, closer to auburn now. Her eyes were just as sharp and expressive, missing nothing but showing exactly how ridiculous she thought I was for calling her Ms. Vance.

  I’d never paid the girl much attention. When she left for college, she was nothing but a gangly kid, my best bud’s baby sister, and I was a married man. I remembered her stubbornness, her smart mouth, how she was damn near fearless. That had been what I knew about her when we were growing up. I remembered the day Damon told me he had a baby sister, disgust in his voice as we sat outside the second-grade classroom before the bell rang. He’d been hoping for a brother to take fishing, not a ruffled and whining girl. Neither one of us knew at the time that not all boys fished and not all girls wore ruffles, or that whining wasn’t confined to either. And we didn’t expect the force of nature that Laura Sue Vance turned out to be. Skinned knees, loud mouth, and always running with her sloppy ponytail streaming behind her. She’d never missed a dare that I knew of, and by the time she was in fifth grade and we were graduating, she was legendary in Rockford Falls as a daredevil as likely to ride her bike through your granny’s flowerbed as she was to climb a too-tall tree and save the same granny’s kitten.

  Now she was fit and strong, curvy in the right places. Her laugh was big and joyful, and when she shook my hand, the spark of her touch seemed to go straight to my cock. I had been glad to retreat behind my desk. Because her husky voice and her straightforward answers, the full pink lip she bit when she mentioned my marriage—all of it tugged at the hard length in my jeans. I wasn’t a man who got hard when a waitress smiled at me or when I saw a pretty woman on the street. In fact, I didn’t get turned on that easily any longer. From the time Missy got sick, that part of me just seemed to recede. Not to say I hadn’t been with a couple of women for a night, since my wife died a few years ago, but it wasn’t an urge I felt that often anymore. Definitely not out of nowhere and while I was at work. Lust surged through me, and I scolded myself.

  No. Absolutely fucking no. Or rather, absolutely no fucking. Not with her. Not with Damon’s little sister. Not with my newest officer. No way. My body was going to have to calm down. I could master a stray jolt of attraction, I told myself. It was a fluke. Phase of the moon or something in her perfume or whatever that I reacted to. It wasn’t her. Because that was impossible.

  I had forced myself to listen and to review her impressive credentials. I tried not to sound like a backwater hick when I spoke to her. Even though she was a hometown girl, she was more than that, too. A decorated and award-winning city officer, one that department had been devastated to lose. She could be our gain, if I could keep my dick in my pants. That had never been a problem for me. I had been loyal to my wife, had been loyal to her memory. I didn’t give my heart and had rarely given my body either.

  Laura was going to be a capable and welcome addition to the RFPD. We needed her, her experience and expertise. And she had answered all my concerns readily. She was here to stay. The job was the right fit for her. I just had to put up a wall between my consciousness and the driving impulse to see if I fit inside her like she was mine. The thought shook me, made sweat come out on my palms. She was the first person I’d felt a stirring of anything for since Missy died. But she was going to work for me, and she was Damon’s sister. I scrubbed my hands over my face and told myself to snap out of it.

  I didn’t know what to do with this heady combination of attraction and lust. I sure as hell couldn’t let it continue. Maybe I would spend an extra hour on circuit training tonight, see if I could sweat out the impure thoughts.

  5

  Laura

  I went straight to the diner and made a beeline for a booth in Rachel’s section. I didn’t even pause to say hi to the people I knew—Trixie from the flower shop sitting with the librarian whose name I didn’t remember, and Drew and one of his employees from the auto body place. I just waved to them, in too much of a hurry to do more than nod in acknowledgement.

  Rachel hurried to my table and poured me a cup of coffee, “So?” she demanded. I nodded, grinning broadly.

  “I got the job,” I whispered.

  “It doesn’t do you any good to whisper around here, girl. This is Rockford Falls. Everybody in here probably already knows you got hired—the grapevine here is short and effective in case you forgot. Let me get you some pie and I’ll take my break.”

  I smiled as I watched her head to the kitchen. Rachel and I had been friends since we were little, and I loved being back in town where I could see her more. FaceTime just wasn’t the same. She’d worked in the diner forever, just biding her time and saving up to buy it when the owner finally retired. You can’t fake that kind of loyalty. She was the best.

  She slid in across from me and passed me a fork, bringing a slice of warm apple pie with a scoop of vanilla sliding across it into cinnamon-y melting puddles onto the plate between us. I took a bite and made an appreciative noise. Delicious.

  “They do not have your pie in Charleston,” I said with a sigh.

  “How many sit-ups do you have to do to work that bite off?” she teased, indicating her own more generous curves.

  “Babe, if I worked here I’d weigh three hundred pounds. Everything is too good. All they have around a police station is stale donuts and Diet Coke. Nothing to tempt me. This place—that’s a different story.”

  “So, what’d you think about Brody all grown up?” she asked with a twinkle in her eye.

  “I think he’s the chief and my new boss,” I said.

  “Are you saying you didn’t get so much as a twinge of that old crush? You had the biggest thing for him growing up. I swear you kissed his yearbook picture every night before bed.”

  “I did NOT!” I said, laughing. “I may have gazed at it and had conversations with it—his picture always agreed with me and thought I was gorgeous even when I had braces and bangs. But I never kissed it.”

  “I am pretty sure you used to kiss it.”

  “Nope. I’ll deny it to my grave. Maybe my Nick Jonas poster but not Brody’s yearbook pic. Besides, what about you and that guy on the basketball team, the one that moved away our junior year? You used to prank call his house.”

  “Yeah, but he’s not my new boss, is he?” she asked.

  I dropped my head onto the table for a second and groaned. “It won’t be a problem. It really won’t. I’m not twelve. I’m thirty. I don’t have crushes anymore, and even if I did, I wouldn’t waste them on him. They don’t come any more off-limits than your widowed boss who is also your big brother’s best friend. There might as well be a barbed wire fence around him as far as I’m concerned.”

  “Yeah, keep telling yourself that, girlie,” she said mischievously. “Because it’s not like you ever found the forbidden appealing or did anything you shouldn’t, right?”

  “That’s right. I was a good little rule follower.”

  “So when you broke into the bio lab and let the frogs loose before the dissection, that was totally in line with the rules?”

  “I was a child,” I protested.

  “What about when you kissed Abel Trench even though he was going out with Kelly?”

  “That was just a shitty thing to do. I have no excuse for that. But I regret it. And I apologized. And washed my own mouth out with soap, which didn’t make me feel any better. I was a sophomore, and I was pissed at her because she made volleyball and I didn’t. So I did the crappiest, most immature thing I could think of. But thanks for reminding me of that. Please tell me she moved away, because if I have to run into her at the grocery store or something, I’ll die of embarrassment,” I moaned.

  “She moved. Pretty much everyone did, except me.”

  “That is not true. I’ve seen a bunch of people we grew up with since I
came back. What about Michelle what’s-her-name from the library? She was always really smart and won that speech contest in school.”

  “Stout. Michelle Stout. She’s still around.”

  “Noah is still in town. I know that because I saw him at the hardware store. He said he’s doing remodels and building now. He’s still around. And he was cute.”

  “So you’re suggesting I should date Noah or Michelle?”

  “Either one you want,” I said with a shrug. “Although Noah was more your type. Since you liked boys the last time I checked.”

  “Still true. Unfortunately. It’s not like there are a lot of choices in Rockford Falls. It’s like I hang around here, waiting for the diner to come up for sale so I can buy it—and hope that some handsome, cold-hearted businessman shows up from the city threatening to shut something down so I can go Hallmark movie all over his ass and live happily ever after or something.”

  I snorted, “That is the best. And really specific. I wouldn’t probably count on it though.”

  “Are you kidding? It has happened hundreds of times. Mostly to that girl from Wonder Years and the one that was on Party of Five. Cute, thin has-been TV stars get all the sexy Scrooges.”

  “My has-been brings all the rich boys to the yard?” I teased.

  “Yeah, pretty much. But I’ve got dark hair, and if I develop really stupid optimism pretty quickly, we could have a cozy Christmas romance around here.”

  “Do you have a lot of oddly flattering red holiday sweaters? I’ve watched a few of those movies and you have to have red sweaters and mistletoe.”

  “How about thong underwear and vodka?”

  “Wrong channel,” I said, “they’d never wear thongs on Hallmark. Not even bikinis. Maybe like a full brief, or just long underwear because it’s so cold in the converted barn that’s now a bakery employing half the town.”

  “You’re right. Only Land’s End long underwear. Red, of course, because of Christmas cheer.”

  “And it matches the sweaters,” I pointed out. “God I missed you when I lived in the city.”

  “They say there’s no place like home,” she grinned.

  “Rach, I liked it there, truly. But I feel like I’m ready to slow down again. It’s just—this feels like the right fit for me at the right time. How often do you get that in life?”

  “Not very damn often, I can tell you,” Rachel said.

  The back of my neck prickled with an unpleasant awareness. Even lulled by pie and conversation, my cop’s alertness was always humming. And something was pinging on my radar. I felt like I was being watched, like if I were on the street, I’d think somebody was following me. Somebody who was up to no good. After a few years on the force, it’s an instinct you develop for survival, a sensitivity to something being off in an otherwise normal situation. You may not be able to put your finger on which detail is amiss, but you can sense it. And I sensed it crawling up the back of my spine like fifty centipedes.

  I said something to Rachel and casually bumped my spoon, knocking it to the floor. When I dipped my head to pick it up, I stole a glance behind me as I brushed my hair back out of the way. Some guy in a back booth was looking right at me. He didn’t seem out of place, but he was setting off my spidey senses for sure. I turned to Rachel.

  “Who’s the guy in the back?”

  She shrugged, “I never saw him before this week. But he gives me the creeps a little, if I’m honest. He turned up about four days ago. Came in Monday, skipped Tuesday, then he was here Wednesday and now today. He shows up at different times, too. Not just a lunch person or a coffee and pie customer. He doesn’t tip worth a shit, and he doesn’t care much what he orders, just stares at the menu and then orders soup or the special, whatever’s easy. I don’t know. I’ve been doing this a lot of years and I know my business. He’s not your typical diner customer.”

  “If he was a trucker he wouldn’t be here all week,” I said.

  “Right, and he didn’t order breakfast. Those guys—the women too—always want a big old breakfast with biscuits and gravy and ham and everything, no matter what time of day. Just hot, home food and plenty of it. I love to feed them. And he didn’t come in with anybody, so he’s not visiting friends. So my question is, why the hell come to Rockford Falls?”

  “Maybe he’s a scout for that Diners show on the cooking channel. You could be famous.”

  “That grouch? No way. He’s not slick, he’s not curious. He doesn’t even finish his food,” that seemed to disgust her more than anything.

  “Does he stay long?”

  “Yeah, that’s the other thing. People come here to visit and have a good meal. If they’re by themselves, they usually just eat and leave. He hangs out forever when we could use the table. He may take a refill on water or something, but he doesn’t want anything, just wants to sit here and freaking loiter.”

  “He could be visiting family he doesn’t like much, or here on business or something.”

  “We have the bed and breakfast and the motel out by the interstate. He’s not at the B&B, or I would’ve heard by now. Plus, don’t you know anytime there’s a visitor, we have to show them the city hall and the library and the diner and all, and parade them around like show dogs cause we got somebody to come here for a change?” Rachel joked.

  “Okay, okay. So maybe he’s a serial killer who hunts for his next victim in rural diners and only orders the special,” I said.

  “No more crime docs for you. Ugh. Now I’m not gonna sleep.”

  “Whatever, get to work. I’m heading home. I have to email my sizes for uniforms and shoes to Mrs. Rook at the station.”

  “If they ask for your bra size, it’s a trick. Brody probably just wants to know.”

  “I’m a 34C. Feel free to spread the word,” I laughed.

  6

  Brody

  A phone call at three in the morning was never good news. I rubbed my eyes and blinked at the lock, groping for my phone on the nightstand.

  “Brody here,” I said, clearing my throat.

  “Chief, this is Heather at Dispatch. I hate to bother you this time of night, but Carl called in something I knew you’d want to know about.”

  “What’s up?” I said, sitting up in bed, rubbing a hand over my face. Carl was my officer on duty that night, and if he called in, it was more than one man could handle.

  “Becky Simms is missing. Her mama called and talked to Carl. He went over there, and there’s just no sign of her. Looks like she was studying at a friend’s house and was supposed to be home by midnight or something, and she never turned up.”

  “Thanks, I’ll be out there soon. Tell Carl I’ll meet up with him at the station later and get up to speed.”

  I jumped in the shower and threw on some clothes. I grabbed a protein bar and my holster and headed to the Simms house. I didn’t know them well, but I knew enough about the kid to know she was on the straight and narrow. She wasn’t one to run off like this, and something didn’t feel right about it. I knew I’d read about her in the local paper getting some award at honor’s night last spring at the high school. Her parents had to be beside themselves, and I knew my presence would reassure them. If your kid goes missing, you’d want the whole force on it and the top guy gathering the evidence. I could do that much for them.

  The tidy split level off Walnut Street had all the outside lights on. I pulled in the driveway. Patrick Simms and his wife Kayla were out the door in a flash. She turned to shoo the younger brother back inside. They both had faces pale and drawn with worry, and she kept tightening the belt on her bathrobe.

  “Thank you for coming, Chief. We just—” she faltered, and her husband put an arm around her.

  “Becky never takes off like this,” Patrick Simms offered, “it’s not like her at all. I don’t know what to make of it. Can you put out an Amber Alert?”

  “Well, Pat, how old is she?”

  “Eighteen last month.”

  “Unfortunately, I can’t. S
he’s a legal adult. She hasn’t been gone long enough to file a missing person’s report, but that doesn’t mean we’re not going to go ahead and do everything in our power to find your daughter. Rockford Falls may be a little town, but we take care of our own. Paperwork isn’t gonna block us from putting all available men on this. Now I need you to help me out.”

  “Anything,” he said.

  “Does she have a boyfriend? Anybody maybe you didn’t want her seeing anymore?”

  “No,” Kayla said, “she was seeing a boy, but they broke up a couple of weeks ago. She hasn’t been seeing anybody new. She’s got a chemistry test tomorrow. It’s a midterm. She wants to be a radiology tech,” Kayla said. “She can’t miss the test.” She sniffed and I felt for her then. The fact her kid was gone, could be dead by now, and she knew she was supposed to take a big science test the next day. That it wasn’t fair, and that kid should be in the classroom ready to ace her exam, not God knows where with some asshole ex. Sure, it could be a stranger that picked her up, some CNN story waiting to happen about human trafficking coming to a small town. But odds were it had to do with the boyfriend. If there was an ex in the picture, that’s usually where the needle pointed in the end—some little prick that couldn’t handle getting dumped.

  I asked a few questions about her friends and her daily routine. I got them talking about her class schedule and about the Harry Styles concert tickets she got for her birthday.

  “She’s so excited. She and her friend are going to drive to Charleston—she’s going to take the minivan—and spend the night and go to the concert and do some shopping. It’s her first real trip away from us, and she’s been planning it—where they want to eat and everything.”

  “I see,” I said, because what are you going to say to a mom whose daughter is missing and she’s talking about birthday plans? I noted the names and numbers of friends and wrote down what they thought she was wearing and what she usually carried with her in her purse or book bag.